are we friends?

i recently got a request from a girl who had been in my youth group to be my friend on facebook.
a girl i haven’t spoken with in quite some time since she quit coming to the youth group, not associating with kids from my youth group, and i haven’t seen or heard from her since…nor really then anyway.

i found it ironic.
ironic because we weren’t friends in real life, but now we are on facebook.
ironic because friends usually spend time with one another, talk to one another, or even acknowledge one another (but this of course is using “friend” in the traditional sense of the word…but what about facebook is traditional?).
ironic because out of all the people on facebook, could she not find someone else better–or with more of a connection–than me to ask to be friends?

i accepted, of course, because really…how good of friends are people on facebook anyway?
no commitment,
no required communication,
no interaction,
no real relationship.

but, hey, at least i’ve got “friends,” right?

week three reflection.

i just finished my third week of class, so with that, i post last week’s reflection.

week three reflection
Barry began class Monday with a series of questions, engaging us in theology, culture, and the church—all of the contexts in which we navigate. I actually found the “what is going on in your church” question challenging. I guess it is not a question I think about myself, nor do I engage others around me in similar questions. And it seems like an odd question for me since I work many weekends and only go to church about twice a month, making it hard for me to actually know what is going on, at least consistently. But this question caused me to think about my answer, which has nothing to do with what has been taught at church lately, but rather, what is being lived. There was a death of a man in the church and I received numerous emails about what the church was doing—services, food, parking, et cetera—in order to aid this family in their grief. This was such a new experience for me having always attended massive churches where death was more of your own business, not an event that the entire community celebrated. I am amazed that a group of people could live like this; it is new to me.

Death…seems like a subject I have been faced with numerous times over the past 9 days—beginning with Michael Clayton and commencing with The Divine Bell and the Butterfly (In Bruges in between as well as this man in my community). I am ready for a little more light-hearted reading, viewing and discussion…at least for a few days. I am emotionally spent. I just don’t think I could handle it if something tragic happens to Jack on Lost this week.

I haven’t given myself much space or time to process the latest film, The Divine Bell and the Butterfly, for numerous reasons. I knew the movie wasn’t going to turn out good from the beginning when the first doctor promised Jean-Do he was going to get better, looking down while he said the words completely avoiding eye contact. And I am not sure how I feel about this—things not working out well, life not ending expectedly. I think it is because I am wrestling with this myself—not death, but the loss of control, the death of my own dreams, the surrendering what I’ve always wanted unsure if I will ever receive it. As I wrestle with this, I mostly keep it to myself—rarely sharing it—thus, remaining in my own mind, leaving me to my memories and imagination. But seeing the story of Jean-Do Bauby beckons me to look outside my diving bell, seeing the butterfly that seeks to emerge out of the cocoon, beckons me not to abandon the dream of writing a familiar story in a new way but rather to write my own story in my own fashion, even painfully blinking it out one letter at a time, yet not giving up. This seems like such a superficial reflection on the film, a film that is so much bigger than my own struggles with death and life, but the most personal reflection nonetheless.

As Amy began class on Wednesday with her story and the experiences with the junior high and high school girls not feeling good enough, not feeling worthy, not feeling like they cut it, not feeling beautiful, not feeling like they measure up, I could totally relate…and not just with the girls with whom I worked, but in my own life as well. I know how I should see myself, but I fail to do so. I know the truth, but I choose to reject it. Amy said that as women, we base our self-esteem on our appearance…so true. But I wonder how can we—or more personally, I—accept ourselves as we are? How can we see we are good enough as we are, flaws and all?

As Kristin shared her experiences last quarter of this body theology “rocking my world and turning it upside down,” she made the comment that the only answer is Jesus. I am a bit confused by this, as it seems like a little churchy. What is Jesus the answer to? How does Jesus answer this specifically? I mean, it seems like a good answer, it seems like the right answer…but I am just not sure what the overarching question is.

the trip.

the arrival.

the much anticipated, long awaited (for those stuck in traffic on the freeway and for those waiting outside baggage claim) arrival.

the new experiences.

blood oranges, samosas, and mr. miyagi

the new store.

on the corner of 16th and montana in santa monica you will find “a room with a view”…and new owners for the view. it will serve as the new store location in the fall of 2008.
what a view…
what a store…
what a dream…
what a reality.

the views.

from above, from below, from vertical, from horizontal, from the ground, from the air, from the feet, from the face.

the direction(less).

i’ve been here before but i’m not sure exactly where it is. it is around here somewhere…maybe on this street.

oh yeah, this is the right way. you can totally tell we’re in hollywood…[few minutes pass] do you know where we are? we are in stinkin’ santa monica. i went the wrong way on wilshire and we are exactly where we went yesterday. we totally went the wrong way.

funny that this street tile in westwood marked the first conversation. it caught my eye as we were, indeed, going the wrong direction.

the theater.

well maybe this wasn’t high culture, but some culture it was.

the pampering.

everybody’s talking about dashing diva…including us.

the paparazzi…and the famous.

were we part of the paparazzi or the famous?
…only time will tell.

the end.

what an amazing ending to time well spent.
time spent with another who refreshes you like no other.
time spent with another who knows you so well, loves you as you are, and celebrates you for who you are.
time spent with another who always encourages and challenges you…on all levels.