White Bathrobe

I just experienced my first bath in over four months. I am wearing a white bathrobe, lying in a white bed, leaning on a white pillow almost as long as me, on the 12^th floor of a Swiss hotel overlooking the Arabian Gulf in Doha, Qatar. The Middle East. Me. Here. Now. And a bowl of fruit in the living room. The living room.

I love how God knows my heart. I love the knowledge that He is delighting in me, delighting in this haven. I am safe here. I am happy here. I know this little chunk of life is good and pure and true and holy and right, and therefore I know it is from God. He gives the best Christmas presents.

Of course, typically I am a mud girl. I wear t-shirts and sweat, and let my hair create itself, and transform dish-washing basins into little heated baths for my feet. I like clipping my nails and hammocks and ice cream cups and paper plates and adventure. This morning I used the tiny spoon, apparently intended for coffee swirling, in my cereal bowl. Small utensils make food last longer, make me eat slower, taste more deeply.

But after four months of being “out there,” it nice to be in here.

I am with Gifford and Craig, and we are living relationship in this place. This small community (including my good friend Tom Shifley, wish so much you were here) has given me a deeper understanding of what I think Jesus meant by relationship. Of course, somehow I have also experienced some of the lowest lows with these three men, and our friendships are messy and gender barriers exist and we live in Germany and China and Qatar and California, but primarily I have experienced some of my highest highs with them. They name my identity in Christ, allow me to shed my skin of fake and pursue the Alex God has created me to be. They make me want to live a more epic life. I want to sky dive with them over sand dunes, and swim in the ocean at midnight and explore abandoned buildings and read C.S. Lewis and light heart lamps in dark places.

I am fully present when I am with them, because there is no place I would rather be.

Each moment is a Heaven. There is no obligation to do, instead there is complete contentment in being human beings together. I know when I am with them that my worth is not defined by my level of productivity or the numbers on my scale or the things I can do for them. Yesterday I sat reading next to Gifford as he played video games. We did not talk. We didn’t need to. We just felt and tasted life together.

When I am with them, I believe the things God says about me are true.

And I sit here on this white bed with this white pillow in my white robe and I love how God knows my heart. He knows that I am a mud girl. He has to cover me in earthiness for me to understand. I learn through metaphor, and things with shape and texture, and seeing Truth in a tangible situation. Gifford and Craig and Tom are incredible creations, and they envelop my heart with happiness, but they are not the final place of rest and joy for my spirit.

Jesus is.

And He uses my relationship with them to give me a physical representation of His love.

Gah. God is so cool.

The Snippet Stories

Once upon a time there lived a girl who loved to think. One day, she sat and thought about everything she wanted to do in her life, like getting married and owning a cupcake shop and traveling to Italy and reading Shakespeare and buying a painting. She sat there thinking and dreaming and planning and thinking, until, one day, she died. The End.

One day, the little boy had to sneeze.

And out came a spaceship.

The little girl who wrote poems on her shoelaces and the little boy who sketched comic strips on napkins grew up and ran away together.

I run a psychology clinic for monsters and villains.

Bigfoot came in today, told me he never knew his dad.

My heart fell in love with the moon.

I tried to distract her.

Honestly, I did—I tried everything:

Pizza, Chinese chess, bubble wrap.

But she gently shook her head

And pointed at the window.

So I tied my heart to a string

And called her “balloon.”

One day, the country ran out of donut holes.

Cities were ransacked, the economy plummeted, schools closed, once-happy marriages became unsatisfying.

Then, the people elected a new president who promised a better life.

And everyone became happy again.

“I love you,” said the boy to the girl.

“I’d rather date an old boot,” said the girl.

“Oh,” said the boy, and walked away.

Today I opened my utensil drawer and pulled out a fork.

Yesterday I took a rolling pin to my power outlet and called it freedom.

Today my toaster wouldn’t turn on.

A woman in a German hospital made international headlines last Tuesday by laying an egg.

In a statement to the press, she said that she “always knew the father was a goose.”

The woman currently spends her days at the hospital, playing gin rummy and waiting for the egg to hatch.

“If you don’t eat it, I’ll kill the man,” whispered the serpent.

“No! Please, I’ll do it!” said Eve.

She took a bite.

One day I stole Santa’s wallet. He had a business card in there, and some paper clips.

“I have something to say,” said the old man at the nursing home.

“You’re dribbling food again, I’ll get you some napkins,” said the nurse, and hurried away.

Two teenage lollipops tried to kiss and got stuck together.

One day all the spiders in the world turned into chocolate candies. I found two in my bed.

“What sort of condiments do you prefer?” said the reporter to the cannibal.

“Oh you know, nothing too special. Relish, mustard, sometimes mayonnaise,” said the cannibal.

“I can’t believe I’m asking you this, you being a perfect stranger and all,” said the gnat to the elephant. “But how much do you weigh?”

The most amazing, unlikely things in the world happen the day the pig decides to fly. One by one, he passes overhead. One by one, he sees them all.

Sadly, none of his friends believe his stories.

The Cyclops felt very insecure when the optometrist told her she had vision problems.

“Don’t worry, contact lenses will be half as expensive for you,” said the optometrist in an attempt to cheer her up.

The little boy asked his mother for a glass of milk.

“You can have some, as soon as you brush your teeth, sweep the patio, change your sister’s diaper, clean out the garbage disposal, fold your bed, put your laundry in the hamper, finish your math homework, call your grandma…”

(The little boy walks away)

“You know, you could just tell him we ran out of milk,” said the boy’s father to the boy’s mother.

“You know I hate confrontation,” said the boy’s mother.

“I’m going to cut my ear off and send it to my girlfriend,” young Vincent said to his mom one day.

“Good for you, son,” said his mom, her eyes glued to the TV.

One day, the businessman had had enough. So, he quit his job and became a trapeze artist.

The choir suite in the Boston School for Mimes was always very quiet.

An atheist and his apprentice were walking through the park, talking.

“Teacher, how do I prove to the people that the Nurkle-Headed Ant Dragon doesn’t exist?”

“Silly child, you don’t go around saying things that don’t exist don’t exist. Their absence speaks for themselves.

On the day of her wedding, the bride decided she didn’t love her groom. She married him anyway.

When looking through the perspective of an adhesive, you come to see that the world, in fact, is the sticky thing.

A long time ago, the Mirror decided to become a monster. It kills with only a glance.

The only way for the stick to feel like a chameleon was to lay down in some poop.