Jesus is a Snowbird

Mary and I live in a condo-complex in which the average age of residents hovers just under 72 (although Betty's birthday is coming up and we're hoping that will push us over the top!) We have noticed that we are often looked at by the other residents with a combination of fascination and suspicion -- it is similar to the way I imagine I would look at a monkey riding a unicycle wielding a pocketknife; amazing, yet somewhat terrifying at the same time.

This unicycle monkey-pocketknife effect is magnified two-fold during the fall and winter months when the population of our complex swells to twice its summer size. The first falling leaf in their respective states signals that the time has come to head south for the winter. The Snowbirds have arrived! -- crowding our otherwise ample parking with their Winnebagos and Buicks; hogging the complex's four washers and dryers (which we had grown accustomed to hogging); and, clad in their overalls and sun hats they sit at the outdoor patio set which sits on a concrete slab adjoined to the walkway which leads to our steps. As we daily walk by they ogle us with their cataract-clouded eyes which seem to always be silently shouting, "keep on moving Unicycle-Monkey!"

It's not all bad though; I've found that amidst all of the suspicious septuagenarians comes one you wouldn't expect. As it turns out, Jesus is a snowbird. Now, I know what you're thinking, "Jesus can't be a snowbird; He's everywhere!" Wrong! If hell is described as a lake of fire (Rev. 20:14), and hell is separation from God, and Phoenix is hot as hell in the summer, then it logically flows that Jesus must not live in Phoenix in the summer. In addition to my impeccable logic I have other compelling evidence that Jesus is, in fact, a snowbird.

This evidence mainly consists of the fact that when I go outside this time of year, especially in the early morning and late evening, rather than feeling the burning heat of Hades seeking to consume my dried-up soul, I am greeted by a familiar yet distant joy welling up inside of me (similar to how the smell of no-bake cookies takes me back to my grandmother's house around Christmas time in my childhood), which I can only assume flows from the Spirit within me...

...He must have gotten in from Wichita sometime after 11:15 last night.

Delicious Bowl of I Would Never

The chicken tortilla soup is simmering on the stove and I'm waiting for the husband to come home. There was a time when I would scoff at anything "domesticated." It was some sort of sign of weakness, and I planned to be an independent woman, too busy for the kitchen.

Cooking was at first a skill only acquired for survival. My mom's parting gift to me was a Chinese cookbook. It was just something she grabbed out of the cupboard as we walked out the door with my life in boxes, loaded into a minivan and my Ford Escort. A long drive awaited me and Joel. The cookbook was stuffed into the nearest open box. I forgot about it until weeks later, as I unpacked and organized the last of our belongings.

The first dish I made out of the book was Mapo Tofu, a spicy tofu dish made with black bean paste and ground pork (I used turkey). I can't describe it very well, but Joel calls it a "delicious bowl of goo." That doesn't make it sound very appetizing, but everyone who has tried it likes it and understands when I call it "comfort food." You just have to take my word for it until I have the chance to make it for you someday.

I was terribly homesick, but creating those dishes from the cookbook made me feel better. It affirmed who I am and taught me that I am capable of creating a home. Ironically, it made me feel independent. There is something rather calming about something as mundane as peeling potatoes and mincing garlic. The more I cook the more I am at awe at how creative God is. I am reading through the book of Genesis and often wonder how food tasted in the Garden.



Change is OK, especially when you've got Mapo Tofu, tortilla soup and cream cheese swirled brownies with toffee pieces and pecans along the way. I've once heard it said that God is in the business of changing plans. I couldn't agree more. I wonder what other unexpected things I will find myself doing five years from now. God must just chuckle and shake his head when I utter the words, "I would never...."

The Accidental Basil

The name we chose for this blog comes from a basil plant which planted itself in our "backyard." Our backyard is really a very small, brick-enclosed area where protective hedges are used, ostensibly, to keep would-be predators out of first story condos in the complex we live in. For the Summer of 2008 through Spring of 2009 we had an "on-purpose" basil (along with an on-purpose green onion plant) in the same enclosure. Then, when our downstairs neighbors left town with the first hint of heat (like the good snowbirds they are) another set of neighbors thought it good to retrieve the small planters they believed our downstairs neighbors had left behind and put them to "good use" -- effectively stealing our basil and green onion. Worse, they supplanted our perfectly good/healthy basil and green onion with fake flowers! Honestly! Who would replace a perfectly good basil plant with an array of fake flowers??! (For whatever reason we have yet to steal back our planters). Fortunately, to our surprise another basil grew near where the on-purpose basil had been, watered by a PVC pipe designed to divert condensation from the air-conditioners on the roof above to the soil below. Our on-purpose basil clearly had the foresight to circumvent his cruel fate and ensure a lasting legacy!

Mary and I have talked about our accidental basil on occasion, and, while we don't want to take the analogy too far, we feel that in some ways it reflects the Kingdom of God; it showed up in a place that no one was expecting, it blessed those few who knew of its presence, and while it is fragile, it is clearly not to be underestimated as its continued presence demonstrates.

This blog will primarily be about our humble attempt to live in the Kingdom of Heaven which we affirm is already present (but hiding in unexpected places). We believe that the Kingdom is about seeking peace, justice, love for God and love for our neighbors -- here and across the world. It is a Kingdom composed of the foolish and weak; of those who believe against all hope that peace can overcome war and love can overcome hate; where to serve is far better than to be served; where love for our neighbor and love for the planet our neighbor lives on are not separated; where the old is made new and the broken is restored; where independence is left behind in the name of interdependence; and where the One who embodies all of this is present, here and now, ushering us all to come and live in this Kingdom.

We hope you'll journey along with us as we strive toward this Kingdom reality -- a Kingdom where old pipes, carrying along runoff water, can spring-forth new life, blessing those around it.