Holy Observer, How I've Missed You......

The Door's Interview with Rob Bell

"This idea that the Church waits to see what the culture is doing, then produces a D grade version with some sort of clever Jesus twist to me is utter blasphemy..."

WITTENBURG DOOR: Everything is spiritual? Even the Roseanne marathon on TV Land?

ROB BELL: There's a Roseanne marathon on?

DOOR:—

BELL: Sorry if I seem a little spacey. I woke up this morning and looked out the window at this huge Country Music Hall Of Fame thing and thought ...

DOOR: Welcome to Nashville. Tell us about your tour.

BELL: It's just for one month and we're in a different city every night. An hour and 45 minute talk-message, experience and um, a sermon on steroids. I don't even know what it is. Thelonious Monk says that talking about music is like dancing about architecture. I've learned on this tour that trying to explain what it is doesn't work well. And generally people get different things. But that's what we wanted.

DOOR: You talk a lot about storytelling—reclaiming the art of preaching away from the engineers and back to the artists.

BELL: Preaching is one of the original art forms, kind of the original guerrilla theatre. A sermon was an electric event; Martin Luther King Jr. changed the whole shape of American culture with a sermon. John Wesley out in a field in England, the Hebrew Prophets, (and) great movements like women's rights were often birthed through preaching. In our unbelievably wired culture, nothing is more foolish than somebody in a room standing alone insisting that God has spoken. So it's either brilliant or absolute foolishness. And I am open to both. Originally, the word "sermon" meant you'd have no idea what was coming next. It was theological but also political and economical and obviously highly creative because if it didn't engage, then you wouldn't listen and you wouldn't be provoked or challenged or comforted. So in some ways for me my life's passion is to pursue this art form. Pump some electricity into it.

DOOR: The Church hasn't always been kind to artists. Especially ones bringing electricity.

BELL: Our assumption is that Church is where you say the things that have to be said. So people will speak but say, "Oh, I wouldn't say that in church." Well then, where would you say it? To me, it's the place where you would push it the furthest. A faith community should be the place with the most honesty and vulnerability and prophetic culture—calling things what they are. So when I hear people say, "That's nice but you really couldn't do that in church," I can't even fathom that. My understanding is it would lead the culture in reality. I talk about having the first word. This idea that Church waits to see what the culture is doing then produces a D grade version with some sort of clever Jesus twist to me is utter blasphemy. The DaVinci Code, for example. You wait for a C grade movie with stars with bad haircuts and then gear your church teachings around a movie that many people aren't even going to see? That seems absolutely anemic.

DOOR: Welcome to our world.

BELL: I don't believe in Christian art or music. The word Christian was originally a noun. A person, not an adjective. I believe in great art. If you are an artist, your job is to do great art and you don't need to tack on the word Christian. It's already great. God is the God of Creativity. Categories desecrate the art form. It's either great art or it isn't. Followers of Jesus should have the first word instead of coming late to the game with some poor quality spin-off. Let's talk about things before everyone else.

DOOR: Most preachers never get to see their good theories make it to practice—are you seeing change?

BELL: Oh yeah—there are huge things going on. Like micro-finance. I was in Rwanda—essentially you take someone in poverty and give them a couple of bucks so they can start a business. We met a woman who started a business, built a house, fed her family and her business was now self-sustaining and growing—on a $40 dollar loan. A Western church gave this woman forty bucks and look what she's done. Economically speaking, that's one of the hopes of the world right now. We have more money than we know what to do with. American churches have more concentration of wealth than any time in history in a world with massive poverty. But some are exploring with micro financing, working with ground churches and trying things that could help save our world. They are so far out front. I was hiking through these slums in Nairobi where people are dying of AIDS and it's the Church figuring out how to give them medication, how to prevent and educate, to help give people an honorable death. The Church is on the front line.

DOOR: As a pastor, how do you motivate people to the front lines?

BELL: First, the scripture always bends towards the oppressed and the marginalized. Beginning in the Torah—take care of the widow, the orphan, the stranger among you. The story is written by oppressed minorities. And it continues, no room in the inn, they follow Jesus because they are hungry. The story always goes towards the underside of the Empire. I think it is sometimes hard for the American church to understand the Bible because we are the Empire. We are the ones in power, the ones with wealth. I think in some settings that's why the Bible has such little power—because it's an oppressive narrative. There are six billion people in the world, three billion live on less than $2 dollars a day, 800 million people will not eat today, and 300 million in Africa alone do not have drinking water. So we as Americans are six percent of the population yet we consume 40 to 50 percent of the resources. We are the upper, upper, rich elite. And our way is taking over the world. So we have to first ask the question—how can we take all this wealth and give it away? All the technology and beautiful parts of capitalism and bless the world and the poor—or else we're in deep trouble.

DOOR: Sometimes the issue of the poor gets lost in all the left vs. the right crap in this country. How do you cut through that? Serving the poor is not a new message.

BELL: The issue is not saving the poor—it's saving us. When Jesus uses the word hell, He does not use the word with people who are not believers or not believing the right things. It is a warning to religious people that they are in danger of hell because of their indifference to the suffering of the world. So the parable of the rich man and Lazarus is not what heaven and hell are like. It's a parable to rich people warning them that their apathy has them in danger. Heaven and hell are present realities that extend into the future. For a lot of Americans, this is about the saving of their own soul. Recapturing God's heart for the world. Otherwise I will end up not caring and not passionate. At our church, people are desperate to understand this culture of excessive materialism. We were made to bless the world. The original call is that blessing was always instrumental. When that blessing gets misconstrued as favoritism you have a very toxic thing happening. Our people are desperate to give, hardwired for it. I assume that people are good and just need opportunities.

DOOR: Um, we're getting the impression we might not see you on TBN anytime soon.

BELL: Ha. I think that's one of the most warped ideas—that God just can't wait to bless you. God blesses you so you will bless the world and if at any point I keep that for myself, then I am in trouble.

DOOR: Speaking of trouble, the Church hasn't always been the safest place to be real. You've gotta be catching some heat ....

BELL: Hmm. I don't read reviews, but apparently there are some people out there who feel that God or Jesus is being threatened. I catch wind of things, some people are pretty cranked up but it's not something I spend any time on. You can't take people somewhere they don't want to go. For every fundamentalist you piss off there are probably five more who start listening. For a lot of people it's like, "Oh, we can talk about that? Well, now you've got my attention." You know the issue is whether or not it's true and whether or not it's compelling. Someone asked me the other day, "What's the demographic of your people?" I was like "I dunno—sinners?"

DOOR: Actually, your church is one of the hottest churches in America.

BELL: I don't even know what that means. I know there's a woman in the second row in the second service that has cancer for the third time. I know there's a single mom named Erin who needs a place to live. I know this guy who just got custody of his kids and he's trying to figure out how to be a single dad. So to me a Church is real people trying to figure it out. The word hottest isn't really a word I associate with a community of Christians. (laughs) For my wife and me it's very important that we live as close as possible to a normal life in our city. So words like hottest and up and coming are not reality and not a place to live. It's a dead end road.

DOOR: What about the labels of Emergent, Neo-realism, Relevant, Post-modern? I've seen your name associated with all those movements.

BELL: I don't use those words. It's easy for that to become "Are you in or out?" A friend of mine calls it a conversation. Which I think is a much healthier way to think about it. There are all these people who are having a conversation about these pressing matters of theology and practice and I'm all up for that. But when it becomes some sort of label—are you with us or them?—that seems so destructive. But it's a discussion that needs to be had. I haven't heard anything dangerous. It's necessary for each generation. I'll take the Christian/Jesus label. Other than that, it seems a lot of labels really don't help anybody.

DOOR: Why do you think we have so many Jesuses? My Jesus vs. your Jesus, Conservative Jesus, Liberal Jesus, Pentecostal Jesus, Episcopalian Jesus ...

BELL: People will grab all aspects of the truth. I guess it would be hard for one person to wrap their arms around that much truth. Easier to grab small pieces, I suppose. I'll take all the good. I want the best of the Assembly of God Jesus, the Latin America Jesus; I want the best of all of them. Jesus talked about fruit, told great stories—you can say anything, but its actions that you can't argue with.

DOOR: How did this Mars Hill thing happen, anyway?

BELL: Seven years ago, a group of friends were just dreaming of something better. I guess the natural evolution of each generation is to explore what it means. How to live the way of Jesus here and now. So we started and it now feels like fifty years packed into seven. Mars Hill is an old mall. Our "architect"—I say that as a joke—says everything about the church should scream "Welcome to our church service! Now get the hell out of here." We say, "This isn't the church, this is a church service. It's just an hour where we have some teaching, some singing and you'll hear about things in the community." If there are 43 "one anothers" in the New Testament—serve one another, carry one another's burden's, confess to one another—you can only do a couple of those in a church service. Until you have a community that you are journeying with, please don't say you are a part of this church. You just come to a gathering. We are very intentional about that. The question is, "Who do you call when your brother ODs on cocaine? If your mom is in the hospital, who comes and sits in the waiting room with you? When you cannot pay your rent, who do you go to and say please help me out?" That's your church.

DOOR: Sometimes it seems the world gets that concept better than the "church." It's difficult to have community when you feel pressure to put on an act.

BELL: Oh yeah, that's not something we would ever place a value on. I don't understand why a Christian would ever put themselves in that sort of environment.

DOOR: What background did you come from?

BELL: I think if you are a follower of Jesus, everything you do is a life of mission and ministry. I actually think the "call to ministry" language was invented by Christians to excuse the disobedience of everybody else. If you are thinking of going into full-time ministry—are you a Christian? Too late. My parents are very passionate, curious Christians and intellectually amped up. They were committed to their faith but very restless with the current manifestations of faith and spirituality. So I think I grew up on the edges with the idea that things could be better. I grew up in a nondenominational church but with the troubling thought that "Something's not right." There's a bass note missing, there's a poetry, a passion, a world-changing impulse that I don't see here. So I grew up compelled with Jesus but not particularly enamored with his followers. So I decided to change it! (laughs) I stumbled into something I love. I went to Wheaton College and I played in a punk band and I ended up preaching a sermon for some bizarre reason and it was a moment. I thought, "I could give my life to this even if I wasn't very good at it. Even if I totally suck at it, I'd rather pursue this preaching thing." So I've been on a tear ever since. Um, can you pause this for dramatic laughter?

DOOR: We're still trying to wrap our brains around the idea of a punk band at Wheaton!

Bad Spellers of the World, Untie .... Then Learn to Spell

Work today had been typical; I had loads of paperwork and was working my way through it when I came upon a most interesting item, a photocopy of a deposit cheque.

Now, I see these every day, multiple times a day. You may think from my title that said cheque was written: "Reality" instead of the correct: "Realty." I see that (and roll my eyes) all the time.

But no, this one was a real gem.

It was made out to "Remax Relestate."

A person that dumb should not be allowed to purchase a house.

Billy Ivey's Open Letters to Trojan, Part 7

11-18-06
Dear Trojan…
A hormone ate my dinner roll.

We were having dinner the other night — me, my three children, my wife and the fetus — when I asked: “Hey, is there any more bread? I didn’t get a roll.”

You’d have thought my words had been: “I have been thinking about having an affair with the African-American checkout guy at the Shell gas station…”

The look I received was without description. And it cannot be explained. Not with words, anyway.

The fact is, I never received a dinner roll. My oldest daughter ate one. My son dug a hole in his with his pointer-finger and stuck green beans in the middle of it. The one-year old gnawed on hers for a few minutes and I found it an hour later stuck to the side of the fridge.

My wife ate two. I watched her. In fact, witnessing the butter melt over top of the second one is what triggered my initial inquiry…

“What do you mean, ‘Is there any more bread’? You ate your bread…”

No I didn’t.

“You most certainly did.”

“Nope. I had two helpings of beans, but I never got a roll.”

“Yes you did! I made 5 rolls… you must’ve already eaten yours.”

“You made 5 rolls?”

“Of course I made 5 rolls. There are 5 of us in this family!”

“But you had two…”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“You had two rolls.”

“I did not!”

“I promise. I just saw you eat two ro…”

(crash, bang, car noises and then silence)

The kids and I cleaned the kitchen together, I gave them baths and then put them to bed. All in all, it was a pretty quiet evening.

I ended up eating the roll that was stuck to the refrigerator, so everything turned out OK in the end.

My wife came back home a couple of hours later. She said she just needed to get away for a while. She and the fetus stopped for ice cream on the way home.

I asked if she brought any back for me, but I don’t guess she heard me…

*****12-06-06
Dear Trojan…
Her “milk ducts” are forming.

(thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou)

I still do not like you, and I hope bad things happen to you and your company.

*****
12-20-06
Dear Trojan…

Happy Holidays, morons. It’s a good thing Baby Jesus came into the world to save your ashy, black souls.

A Little Cross-Cultural Lesson

Next Spring Break our youth group will be joining about 50 other local high school students for a 10-day mission trip to Mexico. We'll be primarily doing construction work.

Lark News has beautifully addressed a common concern regarding such a trip as they detail a letter from Amy; she is seeking advice from a full-time missionary.

(She lives in the States, so there are minor variations, but the same principles apply.)


Q: Dear Missionary,

Help! I took a short-term missions trip to Honduras and really bonded with the people. But one of the boys tracked me down when I got home and wants to marry me and live with my family while he attends college! He has called me several times to tell me I am his family's "angel."

What do I do? What if he comes to visit me? My parents and I are freaked out!

Amy, 19, Memphis, Tenn.


A: Dear Amy,

What a wonderful experience you must have had! Too bad you contracted a bad case of "native-itis." But it can be remedied — with some tough love.

Get out your favorite pen and write a letter to this over-zealous youngster — using a fake return address, of course. Explain that, as admirable as you find his little dreams of a better life, you are not responsible to help him. Be clear: You are an American. He, by chance, is not. You owe him nothing beyond that week of intense bonding and camaraderie you shared in the jungle. If this boy and his family had any manners at all they would say, "Thank you for building the cinderblock church sanctuary for us." And then they would leave you alone.

You see, many non-Americans don't understand that Americans have our own "issues" to deal with, like rising home equity rates, credit card bills, gift shopping at crowded malls — the list goes on. They see us on missions trips and assume charity work is all we do! If only it could be so.

If your letter doesn't work, and his unwanted advances continue, send him the book Boundaries by Henry Cloud, which is available in Spanish. I assume the poor fellow can read. But do NOT send money, or you will attract not only him, but many of his cousins, like cats to a saucer of milk on the backporch. As a last resort, consider that you live in Tennessee, which has a liberal concealed weapon law, if this makes you feel safer.

Good luck and God bless.

This is Why I Love The Door Magazine

Have You Had Your Porn Star Today?

The day was a Friday, and it was beautiful outside. I needed a tasty beverage after work, but I had to drink it rather quickly because my sister and I were about to leave to see a high school basketball game; a girl from our youth group would be playing. I weighed my options: Should I pour my drink into my water bottle and nonchalantly sip it through a straw while watching the game? Could I bring my glass in the car with me? My conscience wouldn't allow either, so I drank it quickly before we left.

The evening was still beautiful when we got home, and our basketball-playing friend was arriving too, soon after her game. I wanted another tasty beverage, but seeing as it was technically a youth group night - even if only one girl was coming - I wasn't sure I should indulge.

I asked my sister, "Is there such a thing as a virgin porn star?"

"No."

Billy Ivey's Open Letters to Trojan, Part 6

10-20-06
Dear Trojan…
You know what makes you not the worst company (and product) to have ever been let through the patent office?

Nesting.

You read correctly. “Nesting.” That’s the only redeemable thing about what your crap product allowed to happen to me about 3 months ago.

She’s starting to clean, and I freaking love it! Drawers, closets, the kitchen cabinets and pantry. She even sorted my sock drawer.

Nesting is wonderful, and I guess - at the end of a long weekend - I owe you guys a debt of thanks.

So… thanks.

Douchebags.

*****
11-14-06
Dear Trojan…
…sorry I haven’t written in a few weeks. I’ve been busy.

Don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten about you. The odds of that happening rank down there with me waking up from this very real and lengthy nightmare.

It aint happenin’.

But this particular love note has nothing to do with an update of any kind. I need to clarify a few things. My hate and disgust and rage toward you and your cheap-ass product have no reflection on how I feel for or about my wife. Any anger that you “perceive” regarding our correspondence should be absorbed and taken to heart by you and you alone.

And George Bush.

I love my wife more than I love beer (and I tell her so on a regular basis)! I just hate what you have allowed to happen to her hormones. Those little demon-bastards are what make me pray for death.

For me, not her.

It’s not her fault, and I know that. And I also know that I’ll one day learn to love the little miracle that’s dancing around in her belly. This has nothing to do with my family - current or impending. It’s about YOU.

So, thank you and screw you. You’ll be hearing from me soon.

*****
11-16-06
Dear Trojan…
Tell me something… since you guys are the supposed “experts” in the area(s) of whatever the hell you do: Is it normal for me to actually be able to SEE hormones? I’m not kidding. En Masse, they form something that looks almost exactly like my wife. Except for the eyes are fire and they yell a lot. I’d just like to know; I might need to consult a doctor. Or a minister. Or an exorcist.

Anyway, we’re making progress with all of this. We’ve decided on a name. If it’s a manchild, we’ll call him “Abe” (after someone named Abraham). If it’s a girl, my wife can call her whatever she wants, because Ben and I are leaving.

I hate you.

The Landlord

I'm sure glad I own my own house; I wouldn't want to deal with a drunk, nasty landlord like this...

Billy Ivan's Open Letters to Trojan, Part 5

09-27-06
Dear Trojan…
She’s being very, very nice. I do not know what to say. I’m scared. I’m puzzled. I’m… still pissed off at you, but at least she’s acting human.

More later…

*****

10-03-06
Dear Trojan… I’ve been in Chicago for 3 days… with her. You were off the hook in the Windy City. She was wonderful. We ate, (I) drank, ate, (I) drank, saw cool things, went to a Cubs game, ate… (I) even got to scotch whiskey with a 70-year old Presbyterian minister (from Scotland) in a kilt at the top of the University Club for three hours on Saturday night…

He wore the kilt. Not me.

Point is, we had one of the best weekends my memory will allow me to locate.

But now we’re home, and she hates me. And I still hate you. And I want to move to Chicago.

*****
10-06-06
Dear Trojan…
So, where should I send the remaining condoms from the ill-fated pack that I purchased to help make sure my wife wouldn’t turn into a bloated Mommy Deaest?

Seriously.

I’d just throw them away, but I’m afraid an unsuspecting homeless person might find them and further ruin his life by trusting you sonsabitches with what’s left of his manhood.

A prompt reply would be appreciated. I want these things out of my house.

*****
10-16-06
Dear Trojan…
She tosses and turns and tosses and turns and bounces and wiggles and exhales (loudly) and squeaks and screams in her pillow and bangs the bed with her fists and throws the covers and cries and then laughs maniacally and then falls asleep for a few minutes and then comes back for more. Sounds pretty awesome, doesn’t it?

Nope.

She can’t effing sleep! And guess what that means, Trojan?

That’s right… Daddy can’t sleep either. Unless, of course, he’s at a stoplight on the way in to work this morning.

The police officer understood my predicament and did not issue me a ticket… But I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

So tired…

Happy Easter!

(Curtesy of The Door)

Billy Ivey's Open Letters to Trojan, Part 4

09-15-06
Dear Trojan…
OK, OK… That was a little harsh. It is a miracle. I mean look! It’s only been 10 weeks and the little bastard already has hands. That’s cool! But that’s not the point. If you lived here you’d understand. We made a very intentional, mature and confident decision based on our trust in YOU… and you failed.

And because of your failure, I get to live with Beelzebub for the next five months and 13 days. That’s all I’m sayin’.

She knows it. Just ask her.

But be careful in your approach. She’s kind of pissed off, too. Have I mentioned that she threw up in the refrigerator?

Yeah. Walk softly and carry a big friggin’ stick, there, Skippy.

*****
09-21-06
Dear Trojan…
She’s feeling better during the daytime. She even claims “energy” between the hours of 8 am and about 5:30 pm.

I get home from work at six.

And that’s precisely the time of day she remembers that you suck, and everything becomes my fault… again.

When she broke the dish last night, I got slapped because I put it on the wrong side of the correct cabinet the night before. She used to give me sex because I put them up at all. But that’s where you pricks came in (i.e., Benjamin and Merrie Cannon).

Thanks for nothing.

*****
09-23-06
Dear Trojan…
Mornin’ dickheads.

I get to change all diapers. All of ‘em. I got called on my cell phone last night so I could rush home to change a Pamper… “Hurry! Ben just wet his diaper!”

A wet diaper. Pee, not poop. Baby-boy urine. That’s all.

But, if I’m within 2 miles of a diaper in need of discard, I’m the go-to guy.

And, thanks to you no-good crapbags, there’ll soon be more diapers to change! But for now let’s focus on the problem at hand… and on hands and clothes and beds and floors and…

*****

09-25-06
Dear Trojan…
She gags, Trojan.

And I mean gaaaaags. These aren’t the “brushing your teeth and accidentally go too far back on your tongue” kind of gags. These are doubled-over, lurching, back-breaking, turn so red you get purple and almost fall down, body heave kind of gags. It’s like Amityville Horror every time somebody takes a leak!

You should see these gags.

Oh, and I pray that you will, Trojan. “May your wives be impregnated and your houses full of kicking, screaming, peeing, pooping bundles of ‘joy’.”

The No Good, Very Bad Day (by Colleen)

"We’re getting a new security system here, but this morning when we came in, the installers had activated it already when they shouldn’t have, so the people on my side didn’t get into our offices til after 10am.

Then I discovered that my underwear was inside out. I feel like a 5 year old. Wouldn’t have been so bad if I was wearing cotton, but I’m not."

Billy Ivey's Open Letters to Trojan, Part 3

08-19-06
Dear Trojan…
I know you are probably sick of hearing from me, but you should get used to it. Tonight, as I was washing dishes, my bride and I were taking about…cake.

I like cake. A lot.

Anyway, for some reason, the word “cake” sounded “gross” to her. Not cake itself. Just the word. I thought I was being cute and started laughing and saying the word “cake” over and over. She told me to stop, but, c’mon, I was just saying “cake.”

She threw up, Trojan. She ran out of the kitchen and hurled.

“Cake.”

Say it with me: “cake.” Say it five times, fast.

Funny, right?

And yet another thing you’ve taken from me… just by being the evil bastards you inherently are.

*****

09-01-06
Dear Trojan… I think she’s coming out of the proverbial woods. It seems the worst part of pregnancy is over.

I’m sure there’ll be many, many pitfalls between now and the due date (and I’m sure I just jinxed the rest of my day), but she’s been in a good mood now for 27 hours, 16 minutes and 41 seconds… that’s a record, I think.

She did "vurp" yesterday whilst changing a wet diaper, but I’ve done that before, too.

I still hate you.

09-01-06
UPDATE: THE MOOD LASTED 11 MORE MINUTES. THEN I ASKED “HEY, HOW WAS YOUR DAY?” BAD MOVE.

THE PAST 19 HOURS AND 14 MINUTES HAVE BEEN NIGHTMARISH. HATE, HATE, HATE… YOU, YOU, YOU.

*****

09-14-06
Dear Trojan…

“Oh, look! What a little miracle…”

(Here, we would’ve posted a picture of a sonogram if we were that technically savvy.)

Blah, blah, blah.

YOU did this to me!

Billy Ivey's Open Letters to Trojan, Part 2

08-07-06
Dear Trojan…
She went to bed at 9:00 PM and I got to fold clothes, clean the kitchen and vacuum the living room.

I’m just sayin’.

*****

08-08-06
Dear Trojan…
I just thought you’d like to know that she threw up on the couch. She didn’t just throw up, while on the couch. She literally threw up…on the couch.

I hope you die.

*****

08-10-06
Dear Trojan…
Well, the saga continues…. I passed gas last night, and she kicked me out of the house. That’s right, she told me I could come back inside when I could “learn to not be so gross.”

You’ve even taken that from me, you sonsabitches.

*****

08-17-06
Dear Trojan…
Thanks to you, I evidently do not do anything to “help out around the house” these days. In fact, just this morning, I was yelled at through tears because the dishes I washed last night hadn’t been put away.

Yes, that’s right. The dishes THAT I WASHED were left on the counter all night long.

They were DRYING, you miserable sacks of ineffective crap!

Thanks.

Theft and Greed and Grace and God

When you live or work with others and there's food involved, things tend to get a little sticky. Back when I lived in a college dorm, we had one fridge in a common room, and it was usually filled with delicious food - the kinds that were not served in the dining hall. I envied the girls who had a carton of milk in the fridge, as breakfast was the only time we were served milk in the dining hall (until my third year), and I never got up in time for breakfast because I valued my sleep more than a 7am breakfast (except my second year, when I lived in a 4 bedroom house with 19 other girls where the logistics of bathroom use demanded I get up at 6am in order to shower - I did go to breakfast on these days). I was also jealous of the girls with homemade food in the fridge, and those with yummy snacks like pizza pops.

In my third year I was out of the ever-expanding House of 20 Girls (where no man should dare to tread, and not just because it was against the school rules) and back in the dorm, where I probably had less square feet to occupy, but it seemed like more space because there were not bunkbeds everywhere you walked, and the classrooms were now only a few feet away, instead of 200 miles through deep snow or on planks across a 50 ft deep boggy marsh in the spring.

Now in the dorm once more, I became aware of a Food Thief. It came up in a few dorm meetings that someone was stealing other people's food from the fridge in the girls' lounge (our only common room besides the laundry room), and one day something of mine was stolen too. I must have been momentarily rich because I had bought a box of pizza pops and would microwave one for dinner whenever I was too busy with homework to eat a real(?) supper in the dining hall. But one fateful day when I went to the fridge to retrieve my last pizza pop, I found the box empty in the freezer, and boy, was I was pissed. My name was clearly written on the box - a must when you share a fridge with a million other girls - so that no one would mistakenly eat them thinking they were their own, but how do you take someone's last pizza pop and think it's okay? And LEAVE the box as evidence! Like I said, I was pissed.

These things still happen, though it's now 5 years later. I still live and work with others, and we share fridges. I have two roommates and a big fridge at home, where I spend half my time and 30 workmates and a small fridge at work, where I am the other half of the time. And the thefts still occur.

If I was going to steal someone else's food - though I don't think I would, but if I did - I'd try to cover my tracks, make it hard to detect. ("Hmmmm... did I have 8 or 9 cookies left? I'm not sure. I probably only had 8.") I wouldn't take someone's last pizza pop and leave an empty box, and I wouldn't open a sealed package, which is a terribly obvious move. But recently someone opened my sealed coffee cream and I knew who it was: the one who mooches.

I was angry, but calmed down and was kind to the person. I nicely told her that I would have happily shared with her if she had asked, and that I had been surprised to find it open when I looked in the fridge. I got my point across without being mean or sarcastic. And she was sorry.

Yet I didn't feel better. And I don't feel better. I can't help but think of the Bishop in Les Miserables, who, when he finds Jean Valjean stealing his silverware, gives him his candlesticks too. He could have had Valjean arrested, but he doesn't believe it will change his heart.

Likewise, Jesus said, ""If anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, let him have your coat also. Whoever forces you to go one mile, go with him two. Give to him who asks of you, and do not turn away from him who wants to borrow from you."

Where do grace and justice intersect? I think I was just by confronting the thief, but it probably wasn't the best course of action; I could have offered her my coffee cream - I even knew she wanted some, but I didn't want to share. It was mine, I had paid for it and wanted it to last; this is responsible adult behaviour. But grace sets aside responsible adult behaviour and is generous to the undeserving.

Part of me wants to end with a trite little saying to show how wise this experience has made me. But it hasn't - I'm still greedy most of the time. But I do know I'll share a fridge for a long time to come and it's no longer appropriate to label my food. Christ says it is appropriate to share.

Billy Ivey's Open Letters to Trojan, Part 1

I discovered these gems a while ago on the Burnside Writers Collective. Billy's wife is pregnant with their fourth child (unplanned). Billy blames Trojan.


"Edwina’s insides were a rocky place where my seed could find no purchase."
-Raising Arizona

Lucky sumbitch.

*****

07-25-06
There's no easy way to say this out loud, so I thought I'd write it down and then accept your commiseration throughout the days/weeks/months ahead.

I will need your support, prayers, understanding, and beer now more than ever before. Here goes:

My wife is pregnant. She is due some time around Valentine's Day. And don't say "Awwwww," because we do not consider that cute, romantic, "fun," or "how appropriate."

Yes, this will be child number four. No, we were not trying to get pregnant. And, yes, we know what causes this sort of thing.

In fact, if anyone asks me the question, "Don't you guys know what causes that sort of thing?" I might stab you with a pencil. We've been asked that question as a reaction to our previous three "announcements" innumerable times, and it is quite frankly getting a little old.

Anna Beth, Benjamin and Merrie Cannon are all wonderful kids. They are beautiful, smart, individual and perfect in their own little ways. So, it's difficult to not be a little bit excited about bringing a new Ivey into the world; we just weren't counting on it any time soon (at all, really).
Let's just say that TROJAN is gonna get a nasty little note from Yours Truly throughout the next 18+ years.

*****

07-26-06
Dear Trojan… Thanks for nothing, a-holes.

99.9% my hairy, white arse.

*****

07-29-06
Dear Trojan… My wife threw up in the kitchen sink last night.

Our disposal is broken, you bastards.

Thanks a lot.

When a Bad Day is a Good Thing... (?)

His setting: a downtown Winnipeg bus stop at 11:30 pm.

My setting: hemming curtains on my living room floor.

The following is a text message conversation.

R: Guess what? A guy just pulled a knife on me.

Me: What?!

R: Yeah. He wanted my backpack and wallet.

Me: What did u do?

R: I told him 2 screw off & pushed him out of my way.

R: He wasn't that aggressive. He was wasted.

R: He's lying on the ground where I pushed him, whimpering.

R: Now he's taking a piss.

Later....

Me: Maybe it was kind of good you'd had a bad day...

R: He's lucky I didn't grab his knife and stab him with it.

Some Lesser Known Tidbits (Revised)

7. There are two sides to my bath towels, which may be obvious, but not for the reason you're thinking. The side with the tag is the Face Side while the other is the Ass Side. As an environmentally conscious person, I use my towel for a few days in a row before washing it, and to eliminate drying my face with the side I've previously dried my ass on, I've coined the names. It makes perfect sense.

And woe to anyone who uses my towel.

On the Ryan Smyth Trade

Me: How can he be any happier now? What can he buy with X million that he can't buy with 5.5 million? Really, what does he have his sights set on?

Lisa: You know what he hasn't bought: Teeth.

For Your Viewing Enjoyment....

It Rings True During My Times of Doubt

"Like all true believers, I am truly skeptical of all that I have said."

- Over the Rhine, The World Can Wait

"As an act of love, prayer is a courageous act. It is a risk we take. It is a life-and-death risk, believing in the promises of the gospel, that God's love is indeed operative in the world. In prayer we have the courage, perhaps even the presumption and the arrogance or the audacity to claim that God's love can be operative in the very specific situations of human need that we encounter."

- John E. Biersdorf, excerpt from Healing of Purpose

Some Lesser Known Tidbits (Tagged)

I was tagged a while back by Joy and I put off posting because I had a hard time thinking of six interesting things to say. All I wanted to do at that time was complain, but I don't think pet peeves should count (and I have much more than six of those).

Here are the rules: Each player of this game starts with the 6 weirdest things about them. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own about their 6 weirdest things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment on their blog that informs them they are tagged and tell them to read your blog.

1. I have licked a salt block. It was blue, like this one.

2. I'm not a masochist, but I like bruises, especially big purple and blue ones. I take pictures of them. (See profile.)

3. Unless someone has just exercised, or is standing right next to me, I don't like hearing them breathe. I'm glad they're breathing and that they're alive, but I don't want to hear it.

4. I have been cursed in the hair and teeth department. I condition my hair every day and get regular hair cuts, but I always have split ends. I brush my teeth multiple times a day, floss, and visit the dentist every six months, but I'm diagnosed with at least one cavity every time.

5. My 24th birthday was the worst day of my life, for reasons other than turning 24. My 25th birthday was one of the best.

6. I love the Paul Frank brand of clothing, and my favourite characters are the Hot Cocoa Rapids Riders - by day they're EMTs, and by night they're adventurers seeking mini marshmallow mayhem.

I'm tagging: Alanna, Jenn.

Push Someone Today

'Cuz it's Shove Tuesday!

I mean, Shrove Tuesday - pancake day. Ask Rudy how many of his mom's pancakes he can eat in one sitting; it's in the double digits. Me, I can eat two... maybe three. I should start training to compete with him.

An aside: I didn't mean to make it sound like he lives with his mother. He doesn't. But, there is a funny story about him being hit on a while back and declining the woman's offer for dinner because he already had plans to go to his parents'. However, it came out as: "My mom's making me dinner."

Happy V.D.!

I (heart) a good pun.

In Memory of a Wonderful Exchange

Rudy's blog has been home to a number of insightful comments between him, Joy, and myself in the last few days. Witness the wisdom and hilarity.

A quote to summarize:

You haven't had a night 'til you've had a Mennonite.