Friday Fun Time

Often I post of my weekend travels, which aid in the keeping of my sanity. However, most of you that have never really lived here in Bakersfield probably wonder but what does she do for fun in Bakersfield? Friday night, do they play in the oilfields? Pick oranges by moonlight? Chicken fight with tractors? So I hereby introduce Friday Fun Time (previously known as the hour my mom's 4th graders look forward to all week) in order to put all your minds at ease. And to reassure my own mind that yes, I do have fun, at least once a week. Although when you hear about the fun, you might still wonder... wouldn't tipping cows be more fun? NO WAY. The first Friday Fun Time is:

Sinaloa's & Central Park

Sinaloa's is a mexican restaurant that's been around for over 50 years here in Bakersfield, which is rare. We walk in early - the family is getting old - and enjoy a meal of quite delicious mexican food, surprisingly fresh. The old, old house in which we are seated is simple and pretty cool - the kind of place I'd like to shop or browse through books in - but it has that musty smell that just does not go well with food. I'm not sure I like the combination. Still the building is pretty cool, and it made for a new adventure in town. And they served bread and salsa, which is totally Basque but it's Bakersfield so it made sense. The salsa was GOOD.

Stuffed, we ventured out for a walk in the small but lovely Central Park, recently redone and the new place to be. It even has wireless! They pretty much turned a section of the canal (that runs underground through most of town) into a stream through the downtown park next to the art museum. There's even a covered bridge. But the absolute best part of the night was when I heard the "dingdingding dingdingding" and spotted this:

I had just said to the folks and Jill, "oh man, I was really hoping we'd see the LaRosa Man* here. I had it all planned out in my mind, and now he's not here." He must have heard me. We bought coconut creme bars - the yummiest popsicle I have ever had. Almost like gelato on a stick.

We even checked the wrapper to be sure LaRosa Bars are made here, and they are - right on Niles Street. It was an authentically Bakersfield evening.

And then we went home and watched Definace.

*For some reason it is always the LaRosa Man, instead of a LaRosa Man. It just is.

Under the Influence

I just watched Revolutionary Road. If ever there was a time to Do As Beth Does, THIS IS NOT IT. Don't watch it. It depressed me for a couple days. Basically this is the plot - we are a young, vibrant couple and our life will not look like others' do but then we get stuck in suburbia and it gets worse and then we get entrenched even more in suburbia even though we hate it and then we die. Seriously suffocating. At the end this is what went through my mind: I just bought a freakin' pastry blender. What the crap is happening to me? What was I thinking? But for reals, folks. My life will not look like that.

on the other hand...

Dear Jesus,

It would be really crazy awesome if you could make me (well, hopefully he's already made) a man like Daniel Craig's character in Defiance. Mmmm-hmmm. That loves you a whole lot. Because Daniel Craig as Tuvia Bielski + Christ follower = the man I want to marry. Like you didn't know that already. But I'm just sayin'.

On Majesty

My subtitle speaks for itself, but the thought behind it is it's own story. I've become content here, in this place God has me - not a stagnant content, and not incredibly happy, but joyful. It's taken some time, but it's been worth it.

Even in the contentedness, it felt for a while like something was missing- I just couldn't put my finger on it. Then someone said the word "majesty" and I pretty much jumped out of my chair. I've been missing the majesty. So I've tried to keep conscious of the majesty that is God whom we worship, and the way his majesty is displayed through his creation. It helps, try it. Let's not miss the majesty.

We've been reading Tozer's Knowledge of the Holy, my friends and I, and it is very good at keeping the majesty of God front and center. Consider the reason, to begin with, that we seek the majesty:

The yearning to know What cannot be known,
to comprehend the Incomprehensible,
to touch and taste the Unapproachable,
arises from the image of God in the nature of man.

Deep calleth unto deep, and though polluted and landlocked by the mighty disaster theologians call the Fall, the soul senses its origin and longs to return to its Source.

At the GYM

yesterday they were playing pump it up music, as usual, and I being the anti-trend person / idiot who forgot my ipod was able to enjoy some greats. Namely R.E.S.P.E.C.T., to which I literally could not not move to a little bit. That song just calls for some booty-movin'. And I looked around, and NO ONE else seemed the least bit affected. Seriously, fellow gym goers, how are we ever going to act out my musical fantasies if no one is even listening? Such as the one in which everyone jumps off their machine at the exact same time (on the downbeat of the R on the second chorus, to be exact) and does a little dance? That song just longs for group participation.

Ever since seeing the T-Mobile commercial I have wanted to see such things. And participate. Lead them, even. If I had had a partner in crime yesterday we just might have started a literal movement.

This is all I have to say today

And Vikki Cook and Charitie Lees Bancroft say it so much better than I ever could

Before the throne of God above,

I have a strong, a perfect plea,

A great High Priest whose name is Love,

Who ever lives and pleads for me.

My name is graven on His hands,

My name is written on His heart.

I know that while in heaven He stands,

No tongue can bid me thence depart,

No tongue can bid me thence depart.

 

When Satan tempts me to despair,

And tells me of the guilt within,

Upward I look and see Him there,

Who made an end of all my sin.

Because the sinless Savior died,

My sinful soul is counted free.

For God the Just is satisfied

To look on Him and pardon me,

To look on Him and pardon me.

 

Behold Him there the Risen Lamb,

My perfect spotless righteousness,

The great unchangeable I Am,

The King of glory and of grace,

One with Himself I cannot die.

My soul is purchased by His blood,

My life is hid with Christ on high,

With Christ my Savior and my God,

With Christ my Savior and my God.

 

One with Himself I cannot die.

My soul is purchased by His blood,

My life is hid with Christ on high

With Christ my Savior and my God,

With Christ my Savior and my God.

THERE IS NO... ARIZONA...

Oh wait actually there is. That's a country song if you missed the reference. On that note if anyone in my life feels like they're missing the reference it is pretty much always a country song that you don't know. Just assume, go ahead. Oh and this will be long so, um, thanks for reading?

Ok, so I went to Arizona for a week with my BigKids the week before Easter. It was fantastic, for me, and it was pretty darn good as a youth group missions trip as well. It was awesome to be able to focus on ONE thing, instead of three or four as I usually do, for a week. I mean, we did a lot, and I was going going going and making sure the girls were doing okay, but they were all I had to focus on and it was a nice break. And it combined the two things I love most - missions and the Church.

I'm not sure how to describe this trip. We were a large group of people for the amount of Apaches around the ministry we worked with, and even larger once word got out that all the white people were there and all the Apaches disappeared. Sad day. We did get to build relationships with quite a few of them, though. What poverty they live in on the reservation - 65% unemployment, 70% living below the poverty level, alcohol, drugs, crap family lives, no transportation off the reservation, you name it- it's bad. I truly enjoyed getting to know the few Apaches that I did in that short amount of time. We were able to work with a family of new believers in restoring their walls (filling holes, painting over nasty graffitti inside) and in prayer marathons, all so they could get their kids back and be growing in the faith. This couple literally showed up at the door of the missionaries' place and said, "we want to come to Jesus. we've tried and tried to change on our own (from cocaine, alcohol, etc.) and we can't do it. We need Jesus. Will you pray with us?" Wow. It was pretty rad to participate in the work the Lord is working in their lives. And updates continue to let us know how well they're doing. Praise Jesus for changing lives!

Because there were a lot of us, and 25 high school students on about three acres + free time = trouble, we did a lot of construction/cleanup/painting/literal trailblazing. We worked HARD. Exhaused at the end of the day. I was super-proud of the students. For me, it felt so good to work that hard, and see results. I love love loved being able to serve the missionaries there so that we could enable them to be doing the work they were there to do.

I braided many, many heads of hair into french braids. I had good one-to-one conversations with several of the young women who were struggling with something, and good times of prayer with them as well. I was excited to see how the students were able to get over themselves enough to let God work through them in all the different things we were doing. Church was an experience. An elderly Apache woman who was short with a flat, wrinkled face and long, thick black-grey hair led worship, song-to-song without a break for about half an hour. It sounded like a cross between the early "worship music" and something you'd hear an Apache singing at a powow. It was awesome. Sometime in the middle of some service, I almost laughed out loud. I love following Christ. How else would I end up in the middle the desert at a pennecostal service led by Apaches?

We climbed the hill behind the church and watched the sunrise over the mesa-moutains every morning, because the first morning, it was red. The whole sky. And then orange, and then pink. And we went back to bed (had gotten up to use the bathroom which was outside). Idiots. So every day after that we got up to wait for it to be the same color again. And it never was, but it was beautiful every morning. And it was refreshing to get up that early, praise God, think of the possiblity of the day to come, and sit on a log in the middle of an Apache reservation in Arizona and watch the sun rise.