thirty years old!

I'm just finishing the celebration of my birthday weekend- the big 3-0! I've been nothing but excited to turn 30, and was a little put off by the Maitre'D commenting on how now I'll have to lie that I'm 29...as if that's where a woman would want to stay - hah! As fabulous as the 20s were, I am looking forward to my 30s. Whatever is in store for the next 10 years!?!

The first half of Saturday I spent doing things I like to do around the house (reading the FT, lollygagging, crafting) and then I went up to the Griffith Observatory in Griffith Park. This had been closed down for 4 years undergoing renovation, but has been re-opened for nearly 2 and I hadn't make a trip up there yet. I instantly fell in love with it. From the fantastic drive up there to the views to the old-school-ness of it. A really fabulous place to hang out for awhile. I appreciated the perspective it gave me of my own incredible smallness in this vast universe of ours.

In the evening I celebrated with dinner and frivolity at The Dresden I hadn't had a "party" in years and years, and it was really fun to have so many people I know and love gathered in one place! It was a truely fabulous time and I'm thankful to have so many great people in my life.

On Sunday I didn't feel like doing anything too spectacular...just things I liked. So Kim and I moseyed on down to the Hollywood Farmer's Market. Where there happened to be 2 guys by the name of The Petrojvic Blasting Co. playing music that really did help make my day. They basically were most always playing 2 instruments at a time, some combination of drums, accordian, trumpet, trombone, tamborine, and singing of course. Their music was delightful and cemented the day early on as fantastic. After that we spent some time combing the music archives of Amoeba (where Kim bought her 1st CD ever and I bought a 45 record whose song title will be my mantra this year..."ace in the hole"). Then came back home for hanging out, making non-wheat chocolate chip cookies, and so forth.

All-in-all a very successful birthday weekend. Thanks to all of those in my life that make me feel so loved! Mmmuuuuuaaaaaahhhhh!

For a complete look at photos...click here for my facebook birthday album

What does it mean to love?

While the rest of the world is concerned with financial stability, baseball, elections, or what be it – I find myself engrossed in an (arguably) more sober topic. Violence. Not towards me, to put loved ones at peace. But around me. Somehow in the past week I’ve crossed paths with quite dramatic violence a handful of times. Combine this with an unintended conversation on what the Bible says about war – and you have the ingredients that necessitate much mulling over and pondering.

The snowball of violence began slowly rolling in when my friend Chris emailed prayer letters from Guatemala. He was there doing work among imprisoned gang members. His talk of both the violence and the hope experienced have primed my outlook on the following encounters.

• A very interesting conversation about gangs with young men at the continuation school I've been teaching at.


• A disturbing conversation with a 16-year-old pregnant student. She looks to be 5-6 months along and it somehow offhandedly came up in class that her “babies daddy” (aka: Father of her child) was shot and killed recently by a gang-related incident. I don’t know which concerns me more – the fact that he was killed or that her remark was so flippant and un-emotive…like that’s just what happens.


• Two friends-of-friends were violently killed last Saturday. I’ll spare you the details.

One of the men killed is named John McGrahm. (click here for LA Times article) He was a homeless man who had been sitting on the same corner in Koreatown for years. Apparently he had piercing blue eyes and was a known and gentle presence in the neighborhood he inhabited. My friend Jonathan used to live nearby him and when he heard about what went down, he wanted a way to memorialize and celebrate John’s life. Jonathan created a poster using a portrait of John along with the letters RUOK (read: Are You Okay).

Making wheatpaste and heading out with Jonathan late Sunday night seemed like a burden when I could have easily been in bed sleeping. But it ended up being a solemn and hopeful activity that I feel privileged to have taken part in. As I read notes left at the shrine erected on the sidewalk dwelling place that was John’s, an awe and confusion filled me. Awe because we so seldom express our regard for one another’s humanity…but somehow this awe that’s in all of us somewhere gushes out when a human life is lost. Confusion because some of the messages left seemed awfully at odds with each other. Compassion for a life lost, prayers for peace, and regret for not expressing more love while John lived—in contrast to calls for justice and violence to whoever perpetrated the crime.

Which makes the poster seem like a succinct statement in response. Seeing John’s face will be a reminder of peace and kindness to those who miss him as well as a bitter reminder of humanity destroyed to those involved in the crime.

I have a hope that violence is almost never aimed at destroying humanity. As I talked with the young men at the continuation school about gangs, we came up with the realization that aggression isn’t based against a person, against a human being. Aggression shown by gangs is against where you’re from or who you’re associated with. While it pains my heart that such violence is created because of things outside of personal control, it also grows hope in me that man, humanity, is a much harder target to aim disrespect at.

So what is my place in shedding light on the humanity of different human beings that may have been forgotten as human? In war we no longer have to see the eyes of the person we kill. In business we no longer have connections to the person we rob. In our lives we no longer have much contact with the disinherited, disenfranchised, damned, different.

In the Bible we see two contrasts. The Old Testament with God standing behind armies and the New Testament with Christ disappointing the Jews waiting for a triumphal, conquering Messiah. It’s quite easy for me to say I’ll certainly never go into the military. But can I say that I’m ready for our whole military to stop working? Am I ready for the repercussions of treating each and every human being on earth as a unique, distinct creation of God worthy of love and having their basic needs met?

I feel like until I can answer those questions it’s somewhat extraneous to figure out for myself the Biblical stance on war. Christ took God’s laws and cut to the heart of them. The heart of God is love. Which is why I’m so thankful for grace – because I know I will never love perfectly. But for now I feel reawakened to ask my self some difficult questions about what it means to love. But for now I feel reawakened to ask some difficult questions of myself about what it means to love. To love in people and places around me. To keep my eyes, ears, and heart open to the undercurrents running beneath day-to-day happenings and people’s facades.

What does it mean to love?

Today began the first day of my teaching classes since last January. It was splendid! The classes I taught today are being held at a continuation high school in Watts. I usually begin my first class with a little get-to-know-you game. Students pick two cards, each with a question. They then choose one question to answer themselves and one to ask me.

A put-together young lady in the back row, looking to be in 11th or 12th grade, read her first card, “If you spend a week doing whatever you wanted, what would it be?” She said that if she were 21 she would spend the week clubbing, because she really like dancing. When I asked if she would stay in Los Angeles or go somewhere else to do this, she thought for a moment and replied, “Well maybe like Inglewood, Carson, or Long Beach.”

For those of you who aren’t from the LA area – all of these places are 5 to 15miles away from Watts! Given the opportunity to go anywhere and do anything…she chooses to stay very close to her small world.

One could read this and conclude that this young lady must really love her home. Unfortunately, I don’t think her answer is so heartwarming. Although kids from the inner city live in and near places where worlds meet and diversity abounds – they themselves are usually drastically confined to their own personal complexes walled within their neighborhoods. Sometimes to extents that may cause disbelief. Such as a kid from MacArthur Park never having been to the beach (merely 15 miles away.) Almost like living at the base of the Alps and never having seen snow!

The smallness of their worlds worries me. How can one dream of a world of opportunity when one isn’t even able to dream of venturing out of one’s own town? I have a feeling my challenge is cut out for me…to open the door of opportunity and encourage these students to dream of making life and sexual choices different then the oppressive and unhealthy situations they have been forced to grow up amongst.

A Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over--

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?