I want more

I have to believe that the desire I have is good and righteous, holy and unselfish. If so, it must be from God, or at the very least, I have to assume the appetite I have can be fed, somewhere, or else why would I have it?

I have to believe that the longing I have for more of God in ways that don't bore me or feel like the script of a Disney movie, full of predictability, is okay to have. I mean, it's not God I'm bored with.

But I don't believe it. I want to. But I don't. Not yet. For now I'm still scared. Certainly scared to share it. What a risk I take in even blogging it! What will people think?

I contemplated the risk at a women's study yesterday. Prayer request time. I was third up and one woman had offered the typically safe family-member-health-issue and another had ventured a little deeper with feelings toward her husband over a family decision. I knew what I was thinking... I am bored! I am having a hard time coming to this study and this church and doing this bible study and singing these songs and I really just want something MORE but I can't articulate it and I am afraid you will be insulted if I do and that I sound arrogant for my boredom, but I'm thinking about Egypt and the protests and the Muslims and Christians covering for one another and what that says about their faith and where God is at work in that country and about my new Iranian friend and the book on the Congo I just finished and where God's handprint is in the Congolese and how surely there is a deeper more meaningful way to worship than the way we do it week after week and where are we going to find it and so can you pray for me, that I do?

And then it was my turn.

I wanted to believe that all those thoughts and longings were really from God, that I could be transparent because I really am praying for some answers, that the women at the table could handle it, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't take the risk. I shared the most surface thing about someone else I could think of in the moment, and every woman after followed suit. It was horrible! A table of women floating in the shallow space of the very opposite of intimacy, authenticity, transparency, and worship! Yuck!

I have to believe I am not alone. And I have to decide I am not going to perpetuate that space any more. I suppose this blog is my accountability. My public confession to stop participating in the Disney version of life. I am looking for more. And I would love to hear from you if have found yourself having similar longings.

Salaam!

I am finally learning Persian! (Well, I thought I was learning Farsi, but according to my sweet language tutor, Maryam, Farsi is the Arabic term for Persian, and Iranians (and Afghans) refer to their language as Persian.) After meeting an Afghan woman at the park this week, my understanding that Dari (the language spoken in Kabul) is a dialect of Persian was also confirmed. SO, I am well on my way to being able to say hello if I were to land right now in Tehran or Kabul. Salaam!

I have a long way to go. Turkish suddenly seems easy. There are sounds I physically cannot make with my throat! But I am delighted. I can't stop smiling. I am taking baby steps to fulfilling a dream.

Rest assured, my husband and brother (who just spent a year in Kabul) have strongly urged (read: forbidden) me to not go. And there are no plans. But one day that region will be different. One day I believe Iran will open up and Afghanistan will stabilize and the doors will fly off...

and I will be ready!

Sub-cultures

Learning about culture is fascinating to me. I think it's what I like about big American cities and college towns: diversity and ethnic pockets. When I get around to it, I'm determined to find a Persian student here at CSU and start learning some Farsi!

But here in Colorado, there's another sub-culture I have to learn... cowboys! I got my first peak at the National Western Stock Show and Rodeo this past weekend. And, ooh, I wish I had the guts to get down on the ground and photograph the boots I saw!



Have you ever seen cows so shiny? Or so large! The cabinet below is full of black spray paint and shiner paint!







I'll admit, I would have worn some of those cowboy boots if I had had them, but I'm much more at home in the streets of ancient Constantinople than the stock show!