Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Being Bold
I have a favor to ask. Lately, I've boldly been asking the people in my life how to get to heaven. Can you please share the answer with me? I know the answer but I would like some thoughts about sharing it with other people and what your answer is when someone asks you....how do I get to heaven. I'm bringing this up because the more people I've been asking...the more answers I get like this: I don't know. I want them to know.
February 22, 1976
Today was my birfday. I turned 30. I'm in a new club. Truth is, I'm fine with turning 30. It is a new stage in life and God has given me the opportunity to experience it. I've been thinking a lot about life lately. A triathalon has been coming to mind...all of the hurtles....the swimming leg...the long jump. There are events I don't want to participate in but I will if it is God's wish that I do. All of these events make me stronger in Him. They grow me up.
I had a good birfday. My desk was decorated and people brought in treats. Talked to a lot of friends via e-mail and some friends I haven't talked to in quite awhile. Went to Bennigan's for lunch and then met my moms for dinner in Okemos. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my day...with her.
Anyhow, I'm tired and probably am not making a lot of sense. I'll blame it on my age.
I had a good birfday. My desk was decorated and people brought in treats. Talked to a lot of friends via e-mail and some friends I haven't talked to in quite awhile. Went to Bennigan's for lunch and then met my moms for dinner in Okemos. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my day...with her.
Anyhow, I'm tired and probably am not making a lot of sense. I'll blame it on my age.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Friday, February 17, 2006
Jimmy Soprano
My friend committed suicide on Wednesday. That was difficult to write. People usually don't talk about suicide. Close your eyes or hit the back button.
We know how he did it but we don't know why. That's the thing with suicide. If there isn't a note, you're left with confusion. Even with a note, a giant question mark seems to hang over head.
Jimmy was 33. He went to high school with my roommate. He lived across the street from us. He had a really nice, $300,000 home. His parents were born in Sicily. He was Catholic. He had a lot of friends. He drove an H2. He was a big boy. He took Krissie and I to the Chop House. We made him dinner. He loved my bruchetta. He couldn't stand cilantra. He always said, "hey beautiful. When are you going to marry me?" He said this to all the girls.
His closest friends are shocked. They insist he wouldn't do something like this. Jimmy didn't believe in suicide. Someone said, "there's no way he killed himself. You don't go to heaven if you kill yourself." I felt like people turned and looked at me, as if I'm closer to God because I talk about Him all the time. I raised my eyebrows and fumbled through something about destroying something made in God's image, but then I finished with "I can't pretend to know what happened to Jimmy during his judgment. I can't pretend to know what God will forgive. That is between God and Jimmy. I only hope I'll see him again someday."
There is so much pain surrounding this death. People are hurt that Jimmy would do this. People are angry at Jimmy for not asking for help. Maybe he did. Maybe his mind was made up. People blame themselves for not seeing the signs. I even threw myself a brief pity party thinking, "oh yeah, Holly...probably the only Christian in his life. Did you really give all you had to him?" No, but I didn't hide it, either. We talked about pre-marital sex. We talked about porn. He knew where I was standing. Still, none of us could have cured his issues. We didn't even know all of them.
The last time I spoke to Jimmy was the day before the Super Bowl. He called me to invite me to his party.
"Wow. Thank you so much for inviting me to your party...THE DAY BEFORE. I had to go and make other plans because I got tired of waiting for your invite. You've changed."
He laughed and said, "I don't even know you anymore."
We then pretended to break up for the next 5 minutes. At the end, we were laughing. This is what I'm trying to hold on to...not the final minutes before he made the decision to pull the trigger. My mind can't understand that. It is difficult to walk out of my front door and be staring at his house, knowing what happened in there. Dare I say...it was a .22? Yeah, I probably went to far with that one. But the "coincidence" is strange.
I left for work late on Thursday morning. People had been coming and going in our condo until 2 am. Crying, laughing, sharing...I could see the healing trying to start. Still, there was so much hurt and confusion. When Krissie told me, I dropped the mail and my purse, walked up to her and hugged her...while saying, "this must be a joke." When I left late for work on Thursday, I saw Godiva, Jimmy's chocolate lab. She was at the garage door and then ran to the front door. She was looking for him. No one told her. I know, I know. She wouldn't understand. But I don't understand, either.
I'm tired right now. It has been a long confusing week full of trivial bullshit. Yup, yup. I wrote it. I said it. It is. Will my life ever become so depressing that I'll think about ending it? Will I reach out for the help I need or keep it all inside? I do know God is the author of my life. He decided when to start it and I'll carry out His plan until the end...even if it is killing me...I cannot kill me because I am not my own.
Please pray for Jimmy's family and friends.
We know how he did it but we don't know why. That's the thing with suicide. If there isn't a note, you're left with confusion. Even with a note, a giant question mark seems to hang over head.
Jimmy was 33. He went to high school with my roommate. He lived across the street from us. He had a really nice, $300,000 home. His parents were born in Sicily. He was Catholic. He had a lot of friends. He drove an H2. He was a big boy. He took Krissie and I to the Chop House. We made him dinner. He loved my bruchetta. He couldn't stand cilantra. He always said, "hey beautiful. When are you going to marry me?" He said this to all the girls.
His closest friends are shocked. They insist he wouldn't do something like this. Jimmy didn't believe in suicide. Someone said, "there's no way he killed himself. You don't go to heaven if you kill yourself." I felt like people turned and looked at me, as if I'm closer to God because I talk about Him all the time. I raised my eyebrows and fumbled through something about destroying something made in God's image, but then I finished with "I can't pretend to know what happened to Jimmy during his judgment. I can't pretend to know what God will forgive. That is between God and Jimmy. I only hope I'll see him again someday."
There is so much pain surrounding this death. People are hurt that Jimmy would do this. People are angry at Jimmy for not asking for help. Maybe he did. Maybe his mind was made up. People blame themselves for not seeing the signs. I even threw myself a brief pity party thinking, "oh yeah, Holly...probably the only Christian in his life. Did you really give all you had to him?" No, but I didn't hide it, either. We talked about pre-marital sex. We talked about porn. He knew where I was standing. Still, none of us could have cured his issues. We didn't even know all of them.
The last time I spoke to Jimmy was the day before the Super Bowl. He called me to invite me to his party.
"Wow. Thank you so much for inviting me to your party...THE DAY BEFORE. I had to go and make other plans because I got tired of waiting for your invite. You've changed."
He laughed and said, "I don't even know you anymore."
We then pretended to break up for the next 5 minutes. At the end, we were laughing. This is what I'm trying to hold on to...not the final minutes before he made the decision to pull the trigger. My mind can't understand that. It is difficult to walk out of my front door and be staring at his house, knowing what happened in there. Dare I say...it was a .22? Yeah, I probably went to far with that one. But the "coincidence" is strange.
I left for work late on Thursday morning. People had been coming and going in our condo until 2 am. Crying, laughing, sharing...I could see the healing trying to start. Still, there was so much hurt and confusion. When Krissie told me, I dropped the mail and my purse, walked up to her and hugged her...while saying, "this must be a joke." When I left late for work on Thursday, I saw Godiva, Jimmy's chocolate lab. She was at the garage door and then ran to the front door. She was looking for him. No one told her. I know, I know. She wouldn't understand. But I don't understand, either.
I'm tired right now. It has been a long confusing week full of trivial bullshit. Yup, yup. I wrote it. I said it. It is. Will my life ever become so depressing that I'll think about ending it? Will I reach out for the help I need or keep it all inside? I do know God is the author of my life. He decided when to start it and I'll carry out His plan until the end...even if it is killing me...I cannot kill me because I am not my own.
Please pray for Jimmy's family and friends.
More 222
This is getting weird.
On Valentine's Day, my fortune cookie had the number 22.
While driving, there were two vehicles in front of me with license #s ending in 22.
I saw a necklace I liked and Joey said, "guess how much it is?" "$22."
The next day...
Brian asked me how he would know if a certain conference room was upstairs or downstairs. I said, "the conference room downstairs is #22."
I received a pdf from a client. I opened it and it was at 122%.
Last night, Joey and I went to Darb's. When we got our receipt, I took a look and gasped. "Joey, look." He looked at the receipt and then looked at me weird. "Wow. We're sitting at table #22."
Do you believe this is getting creepy or am I insane?
On Valentine's Day, my fortune cookie had the number 22.
While driving, there were two vehicles in front of me with license #s ending in 22.
I saw a necklace I liked and Joey said, "guess how much it is?" "$22."
The next day...
Brian asked me how he would know if a certain conference room was upstairs or downstairs. I said, "the conference room downstairs is #22."
I received a pdf from a client. I opened it and it was at 122%.
Last night, Joey and I went to Darb's. When we got our receipt, I took a look and gasped. "Joey, look." He looked at the receipt and then looked at me weird. "Wow. We're sitting at table #22."
Do you believe this is getting creepy or am I insane?
Sunday, February 12, 2006
222
Can you help me figure this out?
Superbowl game, Joey won $222.00.
Tuesday morning, I woke up at 2:22 a.m.
My birthday is 2/22.
Someone was making lemonade for the Acts 29 people and I asked how many scoops they had to put in. 22
I went to Baja Fresh. They called out order #22.
I feel like there is more then just what I listed. Am I missing anymore?
Superbowl game, Joey won $222.00.
Tuesday morning, I woke up at 2:22 a.m.
My birthday is 2/22.
Someone was making lemonade for the Acts 29 people and I asked how many scoops they had to put in. 22
I went to Baja Fresh. They called out order #22.
I feel like there is more then just what I listed. Am I missing anymore?
Riverview
Yeah, yeah...I always talk about how cool my church is but really...it is. But it seems like every third or fourth series becomes what I like to call...in my oh-so-"Christian-like"-way...a spiritual ass-whopping. Yes, this series on Resolutions has been challenging me in positive ways. The biggest lesson is not doing things for me, others or even God but because of God. I'm wondering how I can incorporate that into my daily decisions. "Can I somehow buy this dress because of God?" Just like me to take this to extremes. Makes it more interesting.
JAC and I went to Riv on Saturday night. As I sat there drinking my Coke, watching clips from Office Space and relaxing in my jeans, I felt so safe and happy. After the service was over, JAC and I sat for a few minutes in our seats. When I looked around, I realized everyone was still sitting. People weren't leaving. They were talking, laughing and making plans. I love God!
Oh, and thanks, Noel for once again incorporating something I've told you into a message. I love it when God uses me like that :o)
Oh! And for those who don't go to Riv, on April 9th, there will be one service at the Wharton Center, 10 am. Pass it on...
JAC and I went to Riv on Saturday night. As I sat there drinking my Coke, watching clips from Office Space and relaxing in my jeans, I felt so safe and happy. After the service was over, JAC and I sat for a few minutes in our seats. When I looked around, I realized everyone was still sitting. People weren't leaving. They were talking, laughing and making plans. I love God!
Oh, and thanks, Noel for once again incorporating something I've told you into a message. I love it when God uses me like that :o)
Oh! And for those who don't go to Riv, on April 9th, there will be one service at the Wharton Center, 10 am. Pass it on...
Updates
Sorry for silence. First I want to apologize for the lack of updates. I can't update during the week...unless I go to a wireless cafe. No internet at home. No internet at work. Speaking of work, I got transfered to a new department. More on that later. The impetigo is gone but I have three pink scars on my chin. Such fun just before I turn 30.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Acts 29
"So, do you know exactly what we are doing?" I asked.
"It's a free store. That's all I know."
"God said, 'get out of bed at 6:30 a.m., drive to a not so great part of town through a minor snow shower, and just trust me."
"Right."
As Yi and I exited onto McNichols, we realized immediately this inner city had been forgotten. Every other stop light was burned out. Barbed wire scaled the tops of fences. Overgrown weeds, boards on businesses, vacant cars...no we weren't in the suburbs anymore. We found the building without trouble and entered with an open mind.
We were standing in what was once "the place" to buy your car in Detroit: Century Chevrolet. Big glass windows and mirrors along the wall somewhat resembled the old showroom. On the large wall opposite the windows was a giant mural of downtown Detroit with the Chevy symbol hanging like a cross over the city. This was Acts 29.
Pastor Mike greeted us and we secured our stuff upstairs. Joining the other volunteers, we received a crash course orientation. There were going to be three stations: working in the free store, serving meals and acting as host. Of course, Yi and I were picked for host. We both quickly declined not feeling quite ready to sit and talk with people. How funny. God had just sent me to Germany to talk to people and yet I couldn't do it here. Yi volunteered in the free store which was in an adjoining building. I stood behind the food and served the Lord from there.
I saw many hungry people come through the line. There was no racial or age discrimination. Muslims, Christians and the hopeless wandered through the food line patiently and with a smile. During small breaks in the flow of people, I got to know an Indian woman named Aparna. She told me about the Acts 29 vision: to reach out to the inner city community. Her stories told of a woman in a wheelchair who only asked for some fresh fruit and company. Another story was about walking the street doing outreach and coming face to face with gang members.
"You just look them in the eye," she explained. "Don't show them fear even if you are crying to the Lord on the inside. They wonder why you are there but they let you go by."
Her pastor would come by to check on us and I noticed he was wearing the ugliest, orange, gardening shoes. These shoes didn't go well with the nice coat and jeans. I actually wondered if he knew he had them on.
We spoke to Cathy who passionately runs the free store. Her vision is to train people and branch out to other communities. Providing clothing, toys, dishes and other basic needs is Cathy’s vision. “It really is easy to do,” she said. “Just ask people to donate the goods about two weeks before the store opens. Then, you let people know. They’ll show up.” In fact, one family showed up three hours before the store opened. They patiently waited in the car: one mother, three kids.
Before we left, Pastor Mike gave us a tour of Acts 29. He led us upstairs to the women’s ministry office and the nursery. To my amazement, we then followed him down a hallway which opened up into four more rooms: the future ESL classroom, prayer room and another office. The open room was to be used for various events. We then went up a set of stairs into an unheated, vast area. “The third floor vision is to make these into dorms for interns and addicts. We want to provide a place for people, help get them back on their feet and teach them skills they can use.”
Pastor Mike led us back to the first floor into a room they are converting into a kitchen. Presently, it is doubling as a bike shop. A couple of guys drive around various cities looking for mangled bikes. They repair the bikes and bring them to Acts 29. “Some of the kids who came today rode up on bikes given to them by our ministry,” Pastor Mike said. “This is one of the ways we are reaching out into the community. We want people to remember us so they can contact us again. Anyone notice our Pastor’s shoes?” We all nodded. “Pastor does that so people will remember him and be able to approach him anytime.”
The support Acts 29 is receiving is a testimony for Christ. There are so many areas any of us can support financially, through donations, prayerfully and rolling up our sleeves. The opportunities are abundant.
Yi and I left with eager hearts. “Quick, let’s read Acts 29,” Yi said as we got into the Trailblazer. As she grabbed the bible (I keep one near me when I can), I said, “I’ve never read all of Acts…but someone mentioned there isn’t an Acts 29 or something.”
“That's right!” Yi said, “it ends at 28 but it ends kind of abruptly. It is so we can write our own Acts 29…all of us. Holly, let’s write our own Acts 29.” We discussed our excitement to help out with the ministry while we sped back to the suburbs. The Lord had sent us to the other side of the world to help people and now we were sent into our own city. God had touched our hearts by bringing us to a place Detroit had forgotten but God hadn’t. And the biggest gain of the whole trip?
“Someone got saved today,” Pastor Mike said.
Check out www.acts-29.us to learn more about this ministry.
"It's a free store. That's all I know."
"God said, 'get out of bed at 6:30 a.m., drive to a not so great part of town through a minor snow shower, and just trust me."
"Right."
As Yi and I exited onto McNichols, we realized immediately this inner city had been forgotten. Every other stop light was burned out. Barbed wire scaled the tops of fences. Overgrown weeds, boards on businesses, vacant cars...no we weren't in the suburbs anymore. We found the building without trouble and entered with an open mind.
We were standing in what was once "the place" to buy your car in Detroit: Century Chevrolet. Big glass windows and mirrors along the wall somewhat resembled the old showroom. On the large wall opposite the windows was a giant mural of downtown Detroit with the Chevy symbol hanging like a cross over the city. This was Acts 29.
Pastor Mike greeted us and we secured our stuff upstairs. Joining the other volunteers, we received a crash course orientation. There were going to be three stations: working in the free store, serving meals and acting as host. Of course, Yi and I were picked for host. We both quickly declined not feeling quite ready to sit and talk with people. How funny. God had just sent me to Germany to talk to people and yet I couldn't do it here. Yi volunteered in the free store which was in an adjoining building. I stood behind the food and served the Lord from there.
I saw many hungry people come through the line. There was no racial or age discrimination. Muslims, Christians and the hopeless wandered through the food line patiently and with a smile. During small breaks in the flow of people, I got to know an Indian woman named Aparna. She told me about the Acts 29 vision: to reach out to the inner city community. Her stories told of a woman in a wheelchair who only asked for some fresh fruit and company. Another story was about walking the street doing outreach and coming face to face with gang members.
"You just look them in the eye," she explained. "Don't show them fear even if you are crying to the Lord on the inside. They wonder why you are there but they let you go by."
Her pastor would come by to check on us and I noticed he was wearing the ugliest, orange, gardening shoes. These shoes didn't go well with the nice coat and jeans. I actually wondered if he knew he had them on.
We spoke to Cathy who passionately runs the free store. Her vision is to train people and branch out to other communities. Providing clothing, toys, dishes and other basic needs is Cathy’s vision. “It really is easy to do,” she said. “Just ask people to donate the goods about two weeks before the store opens. Then, you let people know. They’ll show up.” In fact, one family showed up three hours before the store opened. They patiently waited in the car: one mother, three kids.
Before we left, Pastor Mike gave us a tour of Acts 29. He led us upstairs to the women’s ministry office and the nursery. To my amazement, we then followed him down a hallway which opened up into four more rooms: the future ESL classroom, prayer room and another office. The open room was to be used for various events. We then went up a set of stairs into an unheated, vast area. “The third floor vision is to make these into dorms for interns and addicts. We want to provide a place for people, help get them back on their feet and teach them skills they can use.”
Pastor Mike led us back to the first floor into a room they are converting into a kitchen. Presently, it is doubling as a bike shop. A couple of guys drive around various cities looking for mangled bikes. They repair the bikes and bring them to Acts 29. “Some of the kids who came today rode up on bikes given to them by our ministry,” Pastor Mike said. “This is one of the ways we are reaching out into the community. We want people to remember us so they can contact us again. Anyone notice our Pastor’s shoes?” We all nodded. “Pastor does that so people will remember him and be able to approach him anytime.”
The support Acts 29 is receiving is a testimony for Christ. There are so many areas any of us can support financially, through donations, prayerfully and rolling up our sleeves. The opportunities are abundant.
Yi and I left with eager hearts. “Quick, let’s read Acts 29,” Yi said as we got into the Trailblazer. As she grabbed the bible (I keep one near me when I can), I said, “I’ve never read all of Acts…but someone mentioned there isn’t an Acts 29 or something.”
“That's right!” Yi said, “it ends at 28 but it ends kind of abruptly. It is so we can write our own Acts 29…all of us. Holly, let’s write our own Acts 29.” We discussed our excitement to help out with the ministry while we sped back to the suburbs. The Lord had sent us to the other side of the world to help people and now we were sent into our own city. God had touched our hearts by bringing us to a place Detroit had forgotten but God hadn’t. And the biggest gain of the whole trip?
“Someone got saved today,” Pastor Mike said.
Check out www.acts-29.us to learn more about this ministry.
Friday, February 10, 2006
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