to my millions of followers worldwide!!!
just kidding.
to my faithful few 
I am relocating. come visit.
why you should not switch from the wordpress tab to the facebook tab.
my night of blogging was ruined by facebook and its news feeds that are infiltrated with brainless status updates that make me want to disconnect from social media altogether.(and vomit in large quantities) perhaps tomorow will be a better day to blog.
grace and peace.
these recent days
I suppose I should write in more of an update format, at some points on our journey. I say ‘our’ because I have now been married for almost one month. It is scary how quickly time goes by. Anyway, today, my beloved husband is at work, and I am at home, and for the first time in MONTHS, I am by myself, sitting on my couch, trying to write. In front of me is an empty coffee cup and Thomas Merton’s The Seven Storey Mountain. I started reading, then started writing, then drank some coffee, and then tried to pray, all in various orders, most to no avail. (or at least, that’s what I think- which is mostly always wrong, or skewed, in some form or fashion.) So…. Anyway, we moved into Birchcroft, and our apartment is looking more and more like our home, and less like a storage facility, as of today. Because yesterday, the apartment complex was coming to roach-kill, and we had to remove everything that was finally placed in its proper place, out of its proper place, so they could kill roaches. Which is a very, very good thing (considering I was putting on my shoes the other week and a huge roach crawled out of it, and then I spent five minutes trying to chase it along the walls before I finally crushed it (sorry) and blood went everywhere. Pleasant.) I digress. We are finally moved in. It feels like home. And yet, I am left with a resounding question. “Lord, what are we doing here? What am I doing here?” We didn’t really come with a plan. And I know the Lord has a plan. I hope, hope, hope, (I know) He does. Because its one of those things, like marriage, like life, like any leap into unknown waters, if He doesn’t have a plan, we sure as heck don’t. I sure as freaking heck don’t. I can’t come up with anything creative enough, I don’t have the resources, and while I have ideas and things to do, it seems like I am at some sort of inexplicable standstill, waiting, for something. This may all seem pretty vague to you, and that’s only because it is pretty vague to me.
Its funny because people say, and I said, “we want to do MINISTRYYYYYYY.” Well that’s great, because you know what? MINISTRY is usually very low key and behind the scenes, and dare I say, not so sexy? And we are ALL called to DO ministry, and so its not really all that special and unique, it’s the Lord who makes it special and beautiful and unique, because that’s what He created all of us to do in the first place. And you know what MINISTRY looks like most of the time? Hanging out with people. And you know what? That can be really hard sometimes. Because there is no quick fix for people. For people who are broken and marginalized and oppressed. Or for people who are wealthy, and hurting, and supposedly don’t “need” anything. There is no quick fix for me. For any of us. So building relationships, and keeping them well, is no easy thing. Throw in a language barrier, and it can be rather overwhelming. [end of rant] And so I ask myself, “What exactly do you mean when you say you are called to do ministry?” And then I answer myself, “What everyone is called to do. Love God and love others.” And I think there is a reason why it sounds so simple. Because its so difficult. And so easy. So natural, and unnatural. Its so rewarding. And so not. Its so selfless. And can be so selfish. Its fulfilling and exhausting, its beautiful and messy. And so I am beginning to think that this word, “ministry” is not a calling only some have, or something people do but something that everyone is – and that it is supposed to look so much like Jesus. (I know I am making some deep discoveries here 
) The not flashy, not rushed, not stressed out Jesus. It looks like the Jesus who takes his time with people, who isn’t in it for the result, but just for the person. It looks like the Jesus who is not pre-occupied with what title he has, what his next big venture is going to be, or what people thought of the “job” he did, after it was all said and done. It looks like the Jesus who is captivated by the moment, yet so assured of the future. It looks like the Jesus who laughs and eats and shares willingly. I have a lot to learn.
to be…inept?
reading through the
bible can be so beautiful, mysterious, and complicated. reading the Bible while taking a Judaism class, which follows after my Islam class is especially…..there are no words. Being married and trying to figure out finances, is enlightening, but it is way more enlightening to see that God certainly has a sense of humor when it comes to these endeavors. Example: Today: Isaiah 55: “and he who has no money, come, buy, eat! Come buy wine and milk without money and without price!”
With a slight smile towards God, I told my best friend I am metaphorically inept and literally inclined today.
sam i am.
i must write more, i think, i say. i must write more someday. someday i will write more, today is not the day. too busy. doing what? a conglomeration of everything and nothing. i must write more, i think, i say. this is what i will write about today. about having so much to write about, i think i say, that the only thing i can write about is writing. the. end.
things i wish you knew.
i wish you knew, as you got dressed for the night, that the men looking at you do not know how precious you are. I wish you knew, as you danced the night away, as you forced a smile and removed dollar bills from in between your breasts, that you are worth more than any man could give you. I wish you knew that you were more than a service, an escape, a hidden website, a rundown building, a pair of high heels. I wish I could tell you, that when I look at you, I see a heart, a soul, a body, a mind. I wish you knew that I know you are very tired, tired of painting your nails, of losing weight, of the implants, the smell of sweat and sex, the demands, the confusion. I am sorry you have an audience. I wish you knew that you can be free from the guilt you carry. And sometimes I want to be angry at you, for destroying families, for creating a fictitious idea of what women should look like. I want to be angry at the men and women who hurt you, who told you that you were worth thirty dollars a night. I want to be angry at them for treating you like an object and not a human being. I am sorry that they pay you, that their eyes look at you instead of at their wives or husbands. I am so, so, sorry. I am sorry for the people in your life who spoke death over you, who touched you against your will, who made you feel like the only thing you had to offer was your naked body to a stranger. Sometimes I want to scream for the sake of the people I love. The people that are struggling for purity as you pop up on the screen, as they see you advertised on the street, as they put dollar bills in your hands. And I want to be angry for women who are plagued by the idea that they should look like you. That they need to be better in bed, fit in certain jeans, and not eat when they should. I want to scream. But instead I weep. I weep for you, over you, and sometimes because of you. I weep because the movements that you make on the screen are not really your own. And the eyes that stare at men and women all over the world, those eyes, your big beautiful eyes, are eyes that were created to behold a kind of beauty that is unfathomable.
i dream of justice.
I dream of justice, in the noblest of ways. I dream of justice when it looks like me. When it drips of what I want it to look like. I dream of justice when it is the faces that I want to touch, the wounds that I want to heal, the mouths that I want to feed. I dream of justice when it paints in my colors, when the hues match that of my heart, when I can look at it and say, “yes, this is justice.” I also take great pride in this.I walk around like its not something that’s already expected in being a follower of Christ, but like it is something particular of me. I label myself with signs that say “justice” instead of “Jesus.” If I were to be more sincere, my label would say, “Justice when I feel like it and how I want it.” I parade in my anger at people in the pornography industry, I demonstrate my defiance at modern day slave owners, I am disgusted with men who exploit women and their sacred bodies and I will, mind you, let you know how I feel about all of this. I dream of justice. Or should I correct myself and say, I dream of myself. My voice, my opinion, my fist raised at injustice. He says, “Take heart, I have overcome this world.” He says, “You have been crucified with me, and it is no longer you who lives, but me, and the life in the flesh you live by faith in ME, who loves you.” I am sorry for making this about me. I am taking off the “Justice” label today, and replacing it with some ONE beautiful.
beautiful and devastating.
so here i go with this writing business. write write write. even when i have nothing to say. even when my something wont matter to anyone but me. that’s okay. sometimes it does not matter to me either. Anyway…
I have learned that no matter what I do it will never be good enough for everybody. devastating. I am just me. I will always be a misfit in some circles, a doubtful lover on some occasions, a disappointment in some families, a nomad in some countries. I will always be a mediocre writer in some circles, a mediocre student in some classes and a selfish friend on many occasions. The wild thing is that I do not have to be everything. I am not here to complete anyone, or for anyone’s happiness. I don’t have to be good enough. Good enough? What does that even mean? I will fall short every time. And in some beautiful way, this has set me free. Free from trying to be everything to everyone.
I have learned that I am not saving the world. I have learned that no matter how hard I work, how much I pray, how much I serve, I am not saving the world. Devastating. My love will wither. My strength will fail. My passion will die down and my zeal will flounder. And through all this, I have learned a beautiful truth. It was never in the plan for me to save the world.
I will never be a perfect lover, nor will I find a perfect one. Devastating. I have learned to love a beautiful human being, who is as broken as I am, with a heart and soul and a body, that feels pain and sorrow as I do, and feels joy and embraces life as I do. I have found someone who is willing to release expectations, and let me be who I am, on every single good day, and on every bad day. I have learned that there will always be something to disagree about or an imperfection to zoom in on, if that is what I am looking for. But I am learning to take this lover, strip him of his prince charming costume, and let him be as human as I am. And as I take off my own costume, and take his hand in mine,we suddenly don’t look like such fools.We look entirely human, entirely broken, and entirely being made whole, together.
write. write. write.
Write every day, line by line, page by page, hour by hour. Do this despite fear. For above all else, beyond imagination and skill, what the world asks of you is courage, courage to risk rejection, ridicule and failure. As you follow the quest for stories told with meaning and beauty, study thoughtfully but write boldly. Then, like the hero of the fable, your dance will dazzle the world.
— Robert McKee
Why the heck is this so hard?
martian me.
“But right now, you and me here, put together entirely of atoms, sitting on this round rock with a core of liquid iron, held down by this force that seems to trouble you, called gravity, all the while spinning around the sun at 67,000 miles an hour and whizzing through the Milkyway at 600,000 miles an hour in a universe that very well may be chasing its own tail at the speed of light; And amidst all this frantic activity, fully cognizant of our own imminent demise – which is our own pretty way of saying we all know we’re gonna die – We reach out to one another. Sometimes for the sake of entity, sometimes for reasons you’re not old enough to understand yet, but a lot of the time we just reach out and expect nothing in return. Isn’t that strange? Isn’t that weird? Isn’t that weird enough? The heck do ya need to be from Mars for?”
