ocotillo

morning coffee at the birdsong cafe

The other day I went to starbucks in the afternoon was greeted by "hey, where've you been?, we haven't seen you for a while". It used to be counted on that I could say something like "see you tomorrow" and it would be fairly accurate. It dawned on me that I hadn't been there for about 10 days. I told him I was having my coffee at home, at which I received the disappointed, but understanding, semi-frown. I asked if they had a particular blend of coffee (this being a drive-thru conversation) and no, they didn't. But did I want a free bag of Christmas blend? Yes, please and  thank you very much. Call it good customer service or call it kindness, but I can't tell you how many times I've been on the receiving end at this place.

Places and things can be very symbolic to me. For me, starbucks represents a sort of border-land between big corporate & suburban and comforting local coffeeshop. I think I've learned to accept it as-is. And hopefully I will carry this lesson with me. Part of me, since the very lattermost part of december 2007, has been transitioning out and away from this place we have lived for the past 2 years. I can feel it within me. I feel like I'm slowly saying goodbye.

What I didn't tell my local barista is that I've been having coffee at what I call the Birdsong Cafe. This is a local place which has sheltered outdoor seating and even in 30 degree weather is that wonderful combination of brisk and warm. There are about 30 little birds that serenade the locals at this cafe. I don't know what type of bird they are, but they're about the only ones around til spring brings back the masses of migrating birds. It is quiet here with very little traffic and open views of the ever-changing Texas skies. Drinks are served in handmade mugs with farm fresh milk. The coffee is from starbucks. And you may have guessed that this little cafe is in the small porch-like area in front of our home.

Complain as I do on this blog about this place that my husband & I feel ill-suited to, the Birdsong Cafe is part of our becoming . It was here that I learned to make the cup. Here I learned so much about healthy farms and the products they produce. Here that I forced myself to make conversation with people lest I spend most of the day without speaking to anyone.

I don't know if we're moving on, but I feel that we are. I honestly can't imagine staying. We feel our dreams cannot take root here.

africa, texas and _____________

As I've mentioned in a previous post, Richard & I have been having our ongoing "state of the family" talks (which include all other subcategories). These talks arise of course, when things are out of kilter, or perhaps you could say, when we feel the ripcurrents of life pulling us out to sea.

Richard had a bit of a spiritual awakening a couple of months ago. Meanwhile Sister Cheryl had hit a spiritual slump. Or, more like I felt (feel- this is ongoing) like a mole in the whack-a-mole game. I stick my head out- WHACK! Down I go. Up I come. WHACK! You know the cycle. Anyhow, Brother Richard has moved in and replaced my old sports-watching husband. I've been a terrible Devil's Advocate to him during this time of awakening for him (God forgive me).

Richard found this African church here in our town. Who knew there were Africans here? The pastor and his family are refugees from the Congo. He has a deep voice with a thick accent (French is his first language). He requires attentive listening for a while because the syllables come out differently than we're used to. There's just something about when he says "if a man kills 100 men, the grace of God, he will forgive him" and there is a knowing look in his eye. Gulp, he's talking about something real here. I can't even imagine what horrors he and his family have witnessed, and to still come to that conclusion.

This is the first church in town that I feel compelled to return to.  I don't even know exactly why. Do you ever feel like you are supposed to go somewhere to learn something, but you're not even exactly sure what that something is? Then again, many times I go somewhere, thinking I know what I'm going to learn, and I don't, or I learn something I didn't even know I needed to learn, that was not on my agenda at all. So this is where we're at.

We spend 2 hours with the Africans and leave wondering "where are we?". Oh yeh, we're in Texas. And the second part, "why are we in Texas?" or "how did we come to live here?". After 2 years, my husband and I still feel bewildered by this place. Richard always had in his mind that we would "try it out" for 2 years. I don't think he's ever liked it here. Not Suburbia, not Texas. But I think he has the harder environment to spend time in ("the cube farm").

A couple of times he has brought up moving to the Pacific Northwest. Believe it or not, I was the one making the case that we really should put in a genuine effort to make this place our home. And so we have. We have a few friends, but can't imagine we'll ever have that sense that this is where we're supposed to be. So when Richard, once again, presented his appeal to move to Portland, Oregon, I found myself agreeing. We are under no illusions that there is a "perfect place", but there is where God calls you and there are places the spirit thrives.

I could go on and on about this. For now, this month of January, we are praying about it (and sneaking google peaks at this city and it's people). Creative, green, innovative, gloomy, misty, depressing with beautiful summers seems to be typical descriptions. The children now know this is a possibility and they have mixed emotions. Karina will be entering high school next fall, and Noah, middle school. So if there is a time to go, it seems to be the end of the school year. They need time to process it. I can't imagine if we just popped it on them in April..."guess what kids?". So we have time. And we don't know for sure if it will happen. But it is the direction we are being pulled right now.

the best and worst of christmas

A little late, but it leads into other places I hope to get to.

Best:

Going to the Christmas Eve party of the African church we've been visiting for the past month. Whoever thought that singing the same phrase "Jesu wa kazaka" (or something like that) over and over for 10 minutes would be inspiring? I didn't even know what the last 2 words mean. Maybe I should ask. I wonder what their neighbors thought of the party that didn't really get going til midnight?

Worst:

Being away from family and friends. Probably why I asked for so many books for Christmas.

Best:

A book. Expect Miracles by Rolland and Heidi Baker. An amazing book about Iris ministries who share the love of the Creator in Mozambique mainly among orphaned children. They see miracles all the time (new testament style) and whole villages become followers of Jesus. Really great stuff. If I was 20 something, I'd probably would be applying to help out and packing my bags.

Worst:

Receiving a book I had actually put on my Amazon wishlist some time ago and forgotten. A Martha Stewart book on housekeeping? A 700 page book at that. Something I must have wishlisted at a moment of weakness. A moment when my utter lack of suburbatopian housekeeping skills was glaringly obvious. When I actually cared that my home is far from perfect. The lived-in look is for me. I feel nervous in homes that would get the Martha Stewart seal of approval. What was I thinking? What to do with it? Return to Amazon? Keep as a reference (just in case we do have a formal dinner party....uh, unlikely).

So actually, if that is my worst, I'm doing pretty good. For once, in a few years now, everyone was well and not sick. This is a great thing in itself. Now I need to write another post on the New Year.....