Meet Ziggy

The Klein's have a kitty. His name is Ziggy. He is slightly insane in his pre-neutered state. He likes to climb on things. In this case, he perches on my sweaty back after a bike ride up the Altadena hill.

I think I might try to rig my little camera onto the bike to tape a short film of the surroundings. I really am so thankful I don't have a car. And I'm not playing happy-Christian and just trying really hard to be grateful, when really I'm insanely bitter. (I have done that before, though.) Riding a bike is so nice.

I like it here.

The First Days

I flew into Burbank on Monday and found the lovely Kleins waiting to hug me. Going from airport to airport, I arrived just in time to find a seat in Dr. Kraft's (somewhat infamous) class at Fuller. (And I've got the picture to prove it.) Smiling with me is Amy G. She's been in my MAGL online cohort, too. Cute that she commemorated my goofy-I've-just-arrived-to-California excitement. And God saw that it was good. The evening and the morning, the first day.

On Tuesday's morning I borrowed a bike from nice Morgan Klein, and happily learned that the ride to school is all downhill. It's about a half-hour joyride through palm-laced streets. I waved to approximately 4.5 grandpas and some smiling children in strollers.

Laying aside my bratty disdain for ugly libraries, I got acquainted with Fuller's antiquated shelves. (The library from my undergrad uni, UMBC, was 7-floors high, filled with light, and immaculate. Beauty makes it easier to study, I say.) Happy as a clam, I checked out a gorgeous old copy of Elizabeth B. Brownings' complete poetical works, inscribed to Sophia (with love) on September 26, 1913. Old Elizabeth's sonnets are so thick. And she knew my Italy very well.

On the one hour evening ride home from Fuller I surmised why they call it Altadena. I will conquer that hill in better time, I will. But all the sweat reminds me that I'm alive. The evening and the morning, the second day.

Streams for Sunday: Wake Her

Next time I post I'll be a little old lady in Pasadena.

No More Whiny Pants

I am moving to California in four days, and I feel like I'm growing up. Two days ago, an eight year old asked me, "Do you think there is still gold on the ground in California?"

I smiled out, "I sure hope so!"

For me, like history's many, going West carries the hopes of a shiny new chapter. I hope the ground is golden there, kiddo.

But I have had numerous freaking-out sessions in the last few weeks. In the old days, I would try to explain these crying-fits and moments of I-am-being-impossible with the phrase, "I am emotionally overwhelmed." But I overused those words so much that they grew really old.

I don't know what to call it. There are moments when I'm just plain freaking out in the inside. I do wonder if that is why my heart has been beating strangely. Certain unknowns (like, "when will my next paycheck be?") have plastered over my waning trust in the Faithful One.

And then, my dear friend Carissa put a book in my hands: Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin's Path to God, by Brennan Manning. I'd found it on her shelf. It was tattered. Tattered books always catch my eye. I like them the best.

I'd never read anything by Mr. Manning before, but I'm finding his writing so excellent and refreshing. I've grown so tired of books on God that are rich in content, but terribly written. There are many. And that makes me sad.

But this book is different. Manning is a writer. And as I was about thirty pages into his book, I started crying these good, healing tears. Not the whiny-pants tears, the nice, soul-opening tears. And something like scales fell from my eyes.

"So often what is notoriously missing from the external, mechanized concept of salvation is self-acceptance, an experience that is internally personalized and rooted in the acceptance of Jesus Christ...Self-rejection in any form is a manifest sign of a lack of trust in the total sufficiency of Jesus' saving work. Has he set me free from fear of the Father and dislike of myself, or has he not?" -Brennan Manning

In fresh terms, Pastor Brennan reminds me of how God sees me, in spite of my failure to trust him. And in spite of the unsuspecting self-rejection that has been creeping up on my thoughts lately.

Giggle, Inwardly

Things That Are Making Me Giggle Inwardly

1. After I've been back in the States for over a year, I get this nice email from the Portuguese embassy asking me politely, "Do you still need a visa for Portugal?" My visa was "in process" for 3.5 years.
2. I am going to be a little old lady in Pasadena in less than 10 days! I will make my home there, with the wonderful Klein family. (Well, it is really Altadena. But who's counting.)
3. I keep talking to people about "my bike" as if I already own a bike in California. (I like imagining me riding to "my new job at Peet's coffee" as if it is also already mine.)
4. I have successfully cleaned out my psychotic email inbox from 1000 emails down to 15. All apologies if you've only just received a reply to an email you sent me in June.
5. Since I had unanswered emails going back to 2006, I learned I've been using a recalled-battery for my iBook (her name is Pearl). For over a year I've used a Pearl that could've overheated and caught fire.
6. I missed a phone date last night at 9pm because I was already asleep. Jetlerium does strange things to little girls.
7. Remembering the size of the produce in England. I left my baby zucchini there.
8. Right now, 100 business cards are being printed for my new freelance writing/editing business...Fresh Green Writing!

Riding the Sky to California

The nice people of Southwest Airlines dropped me off at LAX last night. And then the most wonderful Klein family picked me up from the aeroporto in their rad '90 Volvo wagon. We rode around Angel town with the windows down and I lamented the loss of my old dark green '90 Volvo 240.

Its name was Volvino, as I hypothesized that it was somehow a Swedish-Italian hybrid. We sold it after I moved to Portugal, and after its breaks failed me while driving north on highway 301.

I am happy as a clam in California. The sun is smiling out loud and it is not humid at all. The Kleins left me good coffee and I enjoyed the first responsibility-less morning and afternoon I've found in quite a long time. I went on a little run and the San Gabriel mountains cheered me on through the flower crested streets. I picked up a small flower and ran with it, just because I could.

Tomorrow at (yikes) 8am I'll start two weeks of class in Pasadena with my Fuller cohort. It will be our last two weeks together, and then we'll go on to finish our electives and then graduate like cylinders. I shall be done in the Spring!

(Balloons over California by MS4JAH)