The Great Reversal

Mary comes to a place of complete wonder.

Her eyes, her spirit; all are facing him wholly.
No tone of despair, doubt, or regret  linger in her voice.

She sees only blessings and thus finds herself in a perpetual cycle humility,
which only causes her to see more clearly.

She is content, ecstatic even, again and again in awe of him.
And not as a means to an end. This is the end: his glory.

In a place of incredible inconvenience to the point of persecution,
Mary can only write praises of his goodness and faithfulness to her.

And she begins to see her life as part of the great promise he showered on his chosen people
hundreds of years before and of which he will only continue to fulfill,
piece by piece, until the whole puzzle has been fully completed.

Give us eyes,
Give us hearts,
Give us words like these.

Luke 1:46-54

Hi

Dear Friends,

It's been a while, yes? I'm sorry for my absence but it was necessary for a time as blogging had become some sort of obligatory pattern that was beginning to make writing a kind of chore. And then there are seasons in life when I begin to write whole stories in my mind while waiting for the bus or biking to work and there is part of me that needs to share these treasures with others. Sometimes I feel like I may even stop the next person who happens to pass as I burst with thoughts and words upon words, this ever pulsing river of self-expression welling up inside of me.

But good news. In this long lapse of time, I've finally begun to appreciate contemporary dance. have you ever seen one of those performances where you walk out saying "What the hell was that about?" I've had plenty of those moments in college as humanity classes required students to observe and analyze such theatrical debuts but... they always left me a little annoyed, as if a deep, meaningful message was being kept just out of my reach and only the performers had the inside scoop.

But I think I'm starting to get it. There's an odd sense of release when doing something that isn't. supposed. to make. sense. Perhaps this is the easy way out, as centuries of artists have dedicated years weaving detailed themes together just right so as to create an everlasting masterpiece (Go Les Mis). Or perhaps this genre of seemingly "no-meaning" art is a response to our overly stimulated, highly stressful, ever analytic culture where we spend 99% of our brain power just trying to make sense of life. Perhaps that's why the club scene has been so successful; we just want to be in an environment where we can be utterly ridiculous without providing any explanation. Perhaps that's why sometimes we just want to roll on the ground until we're out of breath or bark back to that annoying dog down the street.

What I'm trying to say is.................... dasiodasnjkdbnhkljklnmk.mk.asjdbnjas.

Just kidding. What I'm trying to say is.... it's about the process! Yes, I think I'm really starting to get it.

Operation Rescue Lox

Good news friends,

Three out of four of the Lawrence street tenants (the fourth shall remain unidentified) have decided that it is time to rescue Lox. We're still forming our plans but fear not animal lovers, justice will be served. Or at the least, Lox will get to go on a walk.

Operation Rescue Lox (ORL) has officially begun....

Details to follow.

Welcome to Lawrence Street

I would like to introduce you to Lawrence Street.

Located in North Philadelphia, this prime real estate is home to 1 day care, a community garden, a women's shelter, a catholic worker house, a thrift store, and a park; all within a quarter mile of street. It is still hard for me to believe that this diverse and mature community is now my home. And in order for me to correctly portray the grandeur of such a place, I've included a detailed collage of pictures in order to fully bring this vivacious community to life.

Top 18 Reasons to live on Lawrence Street

#18. We Appreciate Puns

#17. We protect Historically Significant Architecture

Trailer lot across the street from our home.

Abandoned Warehouse (1 of 2)

#16. We are Responsible Drivers

Notice the orange tap and makeshift bumper

#15. We are Proactive in Ensuring our Safety

#14. We respect the Deceased

#13. We enjoy Outdoor Activities

Rock climbing house! Also falls under #6

#12. We practice Healthy Eating

#11. We are Generous with our Possessions

 Free pair of socks!

Meeting the needs of pirates, one leg at a time.

#10. We are Animal Friendly!

Happy city horse loves asphalt.

 Saddest dog in the world, previously blogged.

Dead rat in our backyard.

#9. We are Sensitive to the Needs of Others

I don't know about you but when summer comes around my grass allergies 

flare up like a dead rats belly. So in order to avoid further 

discomfort, we've decided to take out real grass and

 replace with this almost-real synthetic version. 

And those pesky squirrels! Who can live with 'em! 

Always stealing my nuts and livin in my trees! 

So we voted and went ahead and had them all 

replaced with this definitely not creepy version .....

#8. We are Interested in Proper Hygiene


                                     And will enforce by any means necessary...

What you are about to see is known as a "Pee Bottle". 

It's primarily an urban tradition where, after libations, one then empties oneself 

back into the bottle. Warning: only for men and bold women.

Oh sorry, I thought you said you wanted a closer view.

#7. We are Politically Active

#6. We are Resourceful and Creative

 A fire hydrant AND a trashcan.

What was once a plastic bag is now a man-made nest for endangered birds.

Notice our appreciation for art with the Norman Rockwell picture.

A shopping cart turned into a tiny prison for cats and gnomes.

#5. We are Concerned for the Well Being of Our Children

and encourage only family friendly tagging.

#4. We are Culturally Sensitive

Notice the many holidays celebrated throughout the year...

#3. We practice Environmental Sustainability

 This is a stump if you're unsure.

 My house's garden plot getting ready for spring with winter rye!

Our compost/dead rats last destination.

#2. We are Religiously Tolerant

 Virgin Mary one. Can you spy number 2? Let's take a closer looksy....

.

 There she is! Virgin Mary two.

 Ostracized Virgin Mary three 

(did she really think she could get away with snuggling with Santa?)

 Virgin Mary three and four.

 Virgin Mary six, bonus points for Moses in background.

My personal favorite, Virgin Mary with Tiara.

#1. We Care For Each Other

Love, La Loba

What Has Man Come To?

Dear Readers,

You may have remembered my 9 day blogging commitment and guess what? Today is day 7. I have 2 more posts to make after this (and there may or may not be a surprise finale) and to be honest, it's been rather difficult but a great practice for daily discipline. So today, on my Sabbath, I am going to list my top six (I tried to do ten but couldn't think of enough) favorite youtube videos and let them do the talkin.

6. Sneezes are scary
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzRH3iTQPrk

5. Slow motion makes everything more interesting
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=90VyvOhPmA0

4. What Jesus isn't but oh so funny...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VX-opnLXZLg&feature=related

3. I Love dogs in every form, but especially when they talk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qXo3NFqkaRM

2. Best Dancer I've ever seen
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzI7ji2DStQ

Drum roll please.... And my favorite, Youtube video... of all time IS....
Baby Trashes Bar in las Palmas
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cds7lSHawAw

What am I forgetting??

LOX: the Saddest Story You May Ever Hear

In Philadelphia, all the homes are tightly packed together like sardines in a tin can and therefore our backyards (if it can even be called one) form tetris-like shapes as they meet. And whether we choose it or not, one gets a very personal perspective into the backyard life of the surrounding neighbors. Now, not a lot goes on in Philly backyards, mostly because they are tiny squares of concrete but there are the few who boldly buy patio furniture in hopes of utilizing this honestly useless space. We've decided to use our concrete block as a potted plant garden (currently in deep hibernation) and a small dining area complete with an old wooden table, a fire pit and even christmas lights. But there is something else very special about our backyard that has caused every resident in this home serious emotional discomfort. And his name is LOX.

LOX (as in "locks") is some kind of Boxer mutt probably around the age of 2 or 3 and is an avid jumper. He will eat anything, carries a loud bark, and smells pretty bad. And the only thing separating us from him is a ten foot long chain link fence held up by old bricks. And friends, I can honestly say he is one of the most pathetic things I have ever laid eyes upon. His already cramped space is filled with old wooden posts, rotting outdoor furniture and now that it is winter, ice. He sleeps in a corner where an old piece of tarp has fortunately fallen and if he is lucky, the sun will warm his back as he sleeps. Sometimes we throw over old sandwhiches or scraps of food and when I'm feeling really compassionate I try to scratch his smelly snout through the tiny holes of the fence. And when I do so he tries to lick me in a chaotic rampage and I know he is happy for the moment because his tail wags back and forth. And then I go in and watch him watch us through the three windows facing his side of the backyard (really? we only have 3 windows on either side of our house and they all have to face this poor creature??). We talk to him when we take the trash out and he vivaciously leaps back and forth barking at the foreignness of another living creature. And many days I'll come home and there he is, waiting on his side of the fence waiting to watch us pass one of the windows which I am assuming is his only form of entertainment. One time a leaf blew into his yard and he leapt on it with furious inspection and I imagine him thinking "And what issss this curious object? It is crunchy and smells like dirt. Where could it possibly have come from?" For there are no trees in LOX's box.

Last week, I decided to do something about it. I couldn't watch him suffer in the cold any longer. I had an old feather down comforter that I had put outside to dry months ago and forgot about, leaving it to the rain and dirt. So I boldly grabbed the large blanket, pulled a frozen bucket of water over to stand on, and tried to lay/throw the blanket into the small covered space he had in the corner. Surely this would keep him warm! But before the blanket had the chance to let gravity pull it into place LOX had it in his clamped jaws. Stupid dog, let go! Can't you see I'm trying to help you. I frantically whispered to him "Lox, stop it. Stop it. Let go." and as I attempted to pull the blanket into it's proper space through the chain link fence with two fingers I realized I would not win this battle. I watched before my eyes as my little friend ripped, teared and destroyed his only form of warmth outside of the sun. I ran back into the house, through the house, and outside to our next door neighbors door. There were feathers flying on the front street. Knock, knock, knock. "Hi. I think your dog has my blanket. Yeah, I threw it over... the fence... to dry... and LOX... yeahhhh. I'm Sorry!" She said it was no problem and we ended the awkward conversation there. I returned home and from the safety of the upstairs window I watched as LOX tore the material into tiny shreds, tiny little feathers floated through the surrounding backyards. I could hear the lady next door yelling at LOX "Bad Dog! Bad Dog!" He stops for a moment and stares at the window where the mystery voice is coming from, feathers plastered all over his face, his tongue licking up the feathers around his mouth.

And LOX is happy! He is literally in dog heaven as he forgets his current pain and does what he was created to do: ripp things apart. And I am laughing from the upstairs bathroom window and it is snowing feathers. And I keep thinking how I sure do hope dogs go to heaven because LOX will surely appreciate everything there more so because of his current enslavement. And we are like LOX, persevering in this dreary world, waiting for the Kingdom of God to make all perfect again. So don't fret my little canine friend, one day all will be well.

La Loba

This is LOX.

Robert Frost Had it Right

I had an incredible English teacher my junior year of high school who revealed to me the secret worlds of Emily Dickinson, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Hemingway to name just a few. What was once a literary mystery became real, almost palpable as I imagined Gatsby's Extravagant outdoor parties and sympathized for Edna's suffocated life in The Awakening. I can't even tell you what classes I took the last semester of my senior year of college but I will always remember that Edgar Allen Poe at one time considered using a Parrot as the main figure of his infamous poem "The Raven". And now it is winter. And I think of Robert Frost. Not only because of his creative name, but mostly because of his winter poem called "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" which also has been rooted in my mind due to this same teacher.

Last winter was physically and emotionally disgusting for me. Before last winter, I wasn't aware that when feet are not given the opportunity to air out semi-regularly that the skin between your toes will actually begin to shed. You see, I was continually wearing layers of tights, socks, and slippers. I remember the moment I discovered my rotting feet. I was disgusted and intrigued. My body is literally decomposing because of this horrid weather. All of life seemed gray as if the Earth and it's possessions had no choice but to mirror the skies above. Nothing could satisfy me. There were not enough blankets, the hottest shower could not be hot enough, and I began to despise the inevitable puffs of smoke which my mouth was sure to emit. Spring became a vague myth that I could barely recall and warmth, an always out of reach dream. And I'm not quite sure when this happened but one day I realized this reaction is a choice. I have the option of choosing how I want to emotionally react to this very physical sensation. And I chose to become bitter, both in flesh and heart. So when fall came around this year I made my choice.

I decided to EMBRACE winter this year.

And it's not easy but I can confidently say that this is the most joyfilled, positive winter I can recall as an adult. Ok, so it may have to do a little with the fact that winter thus far has been extremely mild in Philadelphia compared to what it normally is. But I think also, it has to do with my choice. Basically, the rut of this ideaology is based in this one thought: If God created Spring, Summer, and Fall to reflect his Glory then surely Winter is no different. Surely, we can all agree that God does seem a little harder to find in nature during this frigid season but He is surely just as present. Have I really been blind these past 23 winters? Believing God is hibernating along with the furry creatures and trees? But this new mentality has a lot going against it and it takes practice and much intentionality.

The weather in Philadelphia today could be described in two words: scary wind. It awoke me before dawn as it slapped my broken window against the inner pane, demanding my acknowledgement. "Go away!" was my response. Then later I rushed to the bank, moving my little booty feet as fast as they could take me. From inside the cafe I watched, horrified, as people passed by wearing face masks with only their eyes visible. As I headed home from the coffee shop (if you haven't realized yet, I spend a good amount of time in cafes) my body reacted as it normally does under such circumstance; quick movements and tense everything. And about halfway home I remembered. So I slowed my almost-jog to that of a calm-ganter. I relaxed my shoulders which had somehow lifted to ear hieght. I rolled my head around a few times and let my hair free to dance with the sharp movement of the wind. And so I walked the rest of the way home. First I became aware of the difference between the numb-cold of mittened hands and the jagged-cold my face was experiencing. The portion of my legs not being covered by boot or coat stung as if they had been repeatedly slapped and my ears almost burned in pain. But my neck, my neck was so warm! Nestled in three wrap-around layers of wool scarf it actually began to get too hot! And the occasional burst of cold air that somehow penetrated the many layers was welcomed. My nose started to run and I wondered at the homeostasis taking place within me that I didn't even have to initiate! And although I by no means was able to warm myself any further by thus thinking, I did manage to almost enjoy my chilly walk home much as I imagine Robert Frost may have felt when he wrote this poem....

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

La Loba