Christmas and a visit home!

Since my car spent her Christmas in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, my brother came down from Birmingham to pick me up to go home! Yay! We had a wondeful ride back up, (which almost never happens...usually after the sixth hour or so we end up fighting about immigration of socialized medicine or something...) and stayed on pretty good terms through the whole trip.

Going home was fantastic. I haven't been pining or desperately missing home or anything, but it was amazing to remember how many people I love and love me. Even though I felt like I was catching back up with people non-stop, there were still a ton of people who I'd love to see but missed. I'm sorry to anyone I didn't see! But I got to see some of my best friends from college, and lots of people from church I adore.

Also I got my mountain fix! Yay! (In eighteen inches of snow...)

It was a nice and relaxing trip, and I'm ready to get the new year started!

(Oh, the mechanic I want to go to is closed until after New Year's...so that particular problem is on hold for another week. Let's hear it for enabled procrastination!)

My Weekend

SATURDAY


ME: GOOOO APPLACHIAN!

SKY: (rains)

ME: Let's go to a restaurant and watch the game!

ROOMMATES: Um...there's a game?

ME: APPALACHIAN DON'T YOU KNOW?!?!?!

(Drives to Wit's Inn, a restaurant/bar up the road.)

ME: (noms pizza, watches game.)

SKY: (deluges)

ME: Um...there's a lot of water on the porch.

JENNIE: There's a lot of water on the road, too.

CAR: (floods)

ME: OMG MY CAR!!!!!!!!!!!

ROOMMATES: Gasp!

RESTAURANT EMPLOYEES: Well that sucks. At least you can watch the game!

RESTAURANT: (floods)

APPALACHIAN FOOTBALL TEAM: (loses)

ME: (leave my car there, go to Hagar's House, watch cars flood on street.)

SUNDAY

ME: (walk to Wit's Inn to get my car.)

CAR: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!?!?!?!?

ME: I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry please work.

CAR: (cranks)

ME: YAAAY!!!

(Drives to the church, water sloshing about inside the car.)

CAR: (pulls into driveway. Dies.)

ME: Oh noes!!!

(Texts all roommates for help.)

Five of Eight Roommates who responded to an 8:30 AM text on a Sunday Morning: "Here I come to save the day!!!!"

(Push car into parking space)

ME: (Fills a shop-vac full of water from my backseat.)

CAR: Why does she hates us, precious?

Detergent, really?

Laundry detergent is expensive. And we've had kind of an annoying problem of running through it very quickly in the house. So, in a move that everyone on staff hates but is still needed, we now keep the detergent in the office and give it out when a resident is doing laundry.

Last night one of our residents, "Joy," took out the detergent half-full. I mentioned in passing that it was the super-concentrated stuff, so she didn't only needed to fill it up to the first line. (This is very difficult to say without being patronizing, but I think I did OK on that front.)

She agreed, sure, fine, and took it out to do her thing. When she brought it back in, she handed me the bottle with a quick "thanks" and headed away. Then I realized--it was empty!

I talked with the other person on staff about what to do. I mean, I didn't want to talk down to this woman or anything, because a) she's awesome, b) it's hard to care that much about detergent, and c) I hate being like, "This is rule 1, this is rule 2, etc."

Jennie (the other staff person) and I talked about it for awhile. We decided it would be a good idea to dilute the detergent, but I still wasn't sure. Should I say something to her? We had quite a little conference on the stairwell.

Anyway, when I came back upstairs, Joy held up the full bottle. "Want the real one back now?"

And everyone upstairs died laughing.

Have I mentioned I love this house?

Captive Israel

Last night, I went with some of my roommates to a Taize service nearby. If you're unfamiliar with a Taize style service, it's a service of music and silent meditation.

We walked into the chapel to find it full of candles. The first song we were in there to sing was "O Come Emmanuel."

I know this song--I've sung it all my life, I have the words memorized. But last night, repeating the first verse in a chapel filled with flickering candlelight, I heard the words in a new way.

O come o come Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel


In hearing this song, I realized that to me, Israel is now New Orleans. And New Orleans is captive--captive by crooked politicians who sit on federal money and refuse to rebuild. Captive by federal contractors who condemn and demolish sturdy buildings and replace them with shacks. Captive by a devastating housing crisis and crime rates among the highest in the nation. Captive by a levee system only repaired to pre-Katrina strength.

But like Israel, there is joy and beauty in New Orleans. It's a city of joy and love, commradire and struggle. It's a place of music and history. It's a place where people at two seperate tables who have never met strike up a conversation and share their wine.

Rejoice! Rejoice
Emmanuel shall come to thee
O Israel


Emmanual--God with us--comes to this city each time a church opens a food pantry. Each time there is a meeting to struggle for a viable public health care option. Each time there is a festival of music. Each time a community of worshipers comes together regardless of race, class, gender identification or language, God is with us.

And through the captivity, through the struggle, through the fear, God is with us.

Emmanuel.