Conversations Overheard

Dear friends,

[Note (April 27, 2009): If you have your own "conversation overheard" to share - something that made you giggle - please post it in the comments section of this posting.]

One of the perks about traveling on public transportation and walking everywhere is that I hear plenty of conversations. Most conversations are ones that I don't care to listen to, but every once in a while I hear something that makes me giggle. I plan to update this post when I can't help but write down what I just overheard in Portland. (The most recent conversations are at the top.)

[Conversation overheard on TriMet Bus #45 on October 15, 2009. Female passenger is speaking to two male passengers.]
"I think most people have a traumatic childhood experience with sales tax."

******

[Conversation overheard on Yellow MAX Line on April 21, 2009.]
Boy speaking on the phone: "It's an arraignment, dude! You don't have to dress nice for an arraignment, you have to dress nice for a trial!"

******

[Conversation overheard in Bipartisan Cafe on April 17, 2009.]
Girl speaking to another girl: "You should read my blog. It's called...uh...I haven't been to it in a while."

******

[Conversation overheard on TriMet Bus #45 on April 6, 2009. Operator was sharing a few passenger stories.]
Story #1: "A woman got on the bus with her imaginary friend, Laura. She bought two tickets for both of them and even told me not to close the door on Laura. I leaned around her hoping to see Laura behind her, but no one was there. I gave her two tickets."

Story #2: "One day a male passenger, who had been sitting in the very back of the bus, rang the bell to get off at the next stop. Instead of departing out the rear doors, he walked all the way up to the front and then as he left, he called me a "pig." I thought, 'OK, that was weird', but I ignored it.

"A short while later, I had another guy who had been sitting in the back of the bus ring the bell and instead of departing through the rear doors, he walked all the way up to the front doors. As he departed, he called me some other kind of animal name. Soon, every time a passenger who had been sitting in the back of the bus departed the bus, he or she would walk all the way up to the front and call me an animal name as they left.

"Finally, I got up and told all the riders that I had had enough. Just then, a woman in the back of the bus stands up and shouts at me, "Roger! How could you do this to me?" Apparently, this woman had been sitting in the back of the bus all day long telling everyone that she was married to me and that I had cheated on her. All day long I had no idea."

******

[Conversation overheard on TriMet Bus #4 on January 8, 2009.]
Girl (speaking to a friend): "I sometimes wish the bus would go slower so I can read more."

******

[Conversation overheard on TriMet Bus #4 November 27, 2008.]
Passenger 1: "We're all addicts one way or another."
Passenger 2: "I know! Nobody is perfect."
Driver: "My ex was addicted to car racing."

******

[(Middle of) Conversation overheard September 14, 2008. Scene: In Powell's Books in the stacks. Two girls who look about 20 years old walk by; one girl speaking to the other.]
"Part of the reason I broke up with Kyle was because it bothered me when he would chew and then my ears would itch. I mean, I love him, but..."

******

[Conversation occurred August 24, 2008. Scene: Downtown on a sidewalk. Obviously drunk man without a shirt on (#1) pushing a wheelchair with another obviously drunk man with no left leg below the knee (#2). I'm not privy to pass along conversations with drunk people, but some quirky things came out of their mouths.]
Man #1 (speaking to me): "Excuse me, do you have the time?"

Me: "Yeah, it's 3:39 p.m."

Man #2 (speaking to me): "I want to give you everything you want."

Me: "What do you mean?"

Man #2: "Actually, I just want to dress you up like Cinderella."

Man #1 (speaking to me): "Can you keep looking at me because you are like God. You are so beaut--"

Me: "--all right, have a good day."

As I walk away, I hear Man #1 singing an '80s love ballad. He was on key.

******

[Heard August 19, 2008, on the Streetcar (yeah, I know); conversation centered around a very old Southern lady who was not present and her new very old boyfriend]
Very old Southern lady #1: "Apparently she met a guy from Las Vegas."

Very old Southern lady #2: "Her only two criteria for a boyfriend is that he can move boxes and be a good golfer."

Very old Southern gentleman: "She said he isn't a good golfer."

VOS Lady #2: "But she's with him anyway!"

VOS Gentleman: "How's his plumbing? That's the important criteria."

VOS Lady #1: "Yeah, that's right, how is his plumbing?"

VOS Lady #2: "She said that she doesn't know."

[All three laugh.]

******

[Heard August 5, 2008, in front of a downtown hotel]
Valet Guy #1 to Valet Guy #2: "I saw a really attractive she-male earlier today."

******

A.

As If Lyme Isn't Enough

Dear friends,

My dermatologist took a biopsy yesterday. Apparently I have a mole on my abdomen that is an A, C, and E, meaning that it is Asymmetrical, has different Colors, and is ever Evolving. This wasn't a surprise - I've been watching the thing change shape and colors for a while now. The ironic thing is that the mole was not my presenting problem, putting me squarely into the camp of those kind of people. I'm not too worried about the outcome of the biopsy. If it's something serious, I'm sure I can handle it. Besides, the antibiotics have to be taking care of any and all foreign dilemmas in my body, right?

A.

March/Seven

[Note: To make it more readable, I am breaking up my story about the month of March. This is the seventh and last installment.]

Hi everyone,

People are the juice. Without others in my life, without their time, their honesty, their willingness to hear, I am not me. My life would not unfold the way it does without their Love gently pressing me forward into Life. In pure reciprocal fashion, I'd like to think the Life that results breeds Love of others, also encouraging them forward into Life.

Yes, March was characterized by surprises, disappointment, pain, rejection, and confusion. Yet last month was also full of relationships, insight, humor, and wisdom. When I am with people, particularly with people whom I dearly love and trust, those are the times when I feel the most safe.

And the most free.

******

I had an interesting experience with a male friend last month. I will call him Dan. See, Dan and I have been close friends for nearly four years but have known each other for twice that long. We went to college together and even did some ministry together there. And then he and I moved out here within a few months of each other. We were friends. Close friends. We got each other. We spent a lot of time together. When I got sick, he was there. He drove me to the grocery store, to church, to the coast. When I was out and started feeling tired and achy, he'd pick me up and take me home. He hung out with me on my couch, I spent time on his couch, we went to the movies together. He helped me move (more than once). In short, he made me feel worth it.

The problem was that I needed him more than he needed me; I suppose being the sick one tipped the scales a bit. Of course, he told me that he never did anything for me that he didn't want to do; he never took pity on me. But, still, he never needed me - there was always a certain distance between us.

Dan moved away a little while ago and, like anytime circumstances in a friendship change, we grew even more apart. It was a difficult thing but I knew that we both needed room to grow in our own ways.

Last month, Dan called me unexpectedly. We had been emailing back and forth some lately, but nothing tipped me off to his phone call one Thursday evening. Dan called me in tears. He was weeping and blubbering so much that for the first minute or so, I had a hard time hearing what he was saying. Though I didn't know what was wrong at first, the fear and pain in his voice - something I had never heard come from him - nearly made me break down, too.

But he kept going and I kept listening and for the next hour I listened to this man open up to me. He shared with me his grief, his worries, his apathy, his feelings. He told me things I had never known about him before, things few people get to see. He also apologized for hurting me. I had already forgiven him, but the apology didn't hurt. And then we laughed together, encouraged one another, and moved forward. In him, I discovered the kind of humanity I've been looking for in the male species: a man raw and vulnerable, courageous and humble, being whom God intended him to be.

This conversation was nothing short of cathartic: healing for my heart, healing for my mind, and healing for my optimism that shorted out so long ago.

******

I was reeling through the last six days of March. Emotionally, I was drained. Spiritually, I was all out of sorts. Relationally, I was worried I had just screwed up some pretty important relationships. The one bright spot, quite fortunately, was that my body was holding up very well.

Over the next few days, I spent hours speaking with friends trying to answer the question, What does this all mean? I certainly couldn't come up with any answers on my own. All I knew was that life had been dumped into my lap and I was left sorting out the trash from the treasure. Little by little, each conversation with a friend drew me closer and closer to an answer, until it arrived on March 31.

I was hanging out with Gena, a woman with whom I have much in common, save for the fact that she's married, has two young children, and drives a mini-van. Other than that, we are golden. Really, I think we have similar experiences and temperaments. She has some life experiences I can relate with, too. Anyway, she and I were hanging out and I was stealing most of the time catching her up with the entire month of March. I told her about the job and the arranged marriage and the eHarmony experience. She listened intently about my thoughts on marriage and relationships. And, then she spoke:

"Anna, to be quite honest, it doesn't sound like you are ready for marriage."

I almost started crying. I wasn't crying because it was harsh - I was crying because it was true.

"You're right. I don't really want it right now."

For the first time perhaps ever, I felt permission not to want marriage or relationship right now. I felt free. And, to be honest, I have a greater desire to purchase the Togo sofa than to be in a relationship. No joke. That sofa is gorgeous. And kids? Hell no. When I get well, the last thing I'm going to do is get knocked up.

I believe my sofa-lust is a symbol for the freedom I look forward to one day soon. Being healthy means being able to work; working means having my own apartment; having my own apartment means furnishing it with the Togo sofa. Dating, marriage (and inevitably kids), and having a job are a distraction right now. These things won't help me attain my goal of retaining some resemblance of adulthood.

So, I have decided to cancel my eHarmony subscription; I will not date intentionally. I have also decided not to get a job. Rather, beginning in June, I will double up my grad classes, which means that I will pretty much be finished with grad school by Christmas, save for a small internship in the new year. Most of all, I will focus on getting well: taking adventures, living life, laughing, being with people.

Don't get me wrong, I want children and marriage. I know that it's quite possible that God can give me an understanding husband - a "wingman" as someone put it recently. Trusting God means relinquishing control to Him. I believe He knows me better than myself; He knows what I need. So, I will continue to listen and obey.

The story ain't over because the story is the story. And this, I know, is the story: I am free. Free to be me, free to live, free to hope, free to dream, free to invest, free to reap, free to unfold just as the Lord intended it to be.

Amen.

A.

March/Six

[Note: To make it more readable, I am breaking up my story about the month of March. This is the sixth installment; the seventh (and last) installment will come later.]

Hi everyone,

In all of my interactions with James, I could tell he is intelligent, responsible, and goal-oriented. He has a deep conviction for Scripture and high standards. He has a smart sense of humor and a penchant for adventure. He was someone that I could see myself hanging out with.

Our coffee date went well. We were both nervous at first, but we warmed up and had a good time. We talked about all kinds of things and laughed with each other, which is the sign of a good date (right?). I never felt sickly around him. Of course, I never forget that I am ill, but it's a decent sign when I am not reminded it when I'm with others. Or, at the very least, it's a decent sign when I don't use my illness as an excuse to get out of things.

At the end of our coffee date, James told me he would call me. I left feeling that the date was promising and that we would hang out again. Compared to George, my interactions with James were more pleasant. I felt that I had some control; I wasn't asked to do something I wasn't ready for.

******

Back in late November or early December, I made the decision to go back to the Refuge ministry. This is an Imago Dei Community Church ministry that I helped found nearly three years ago. My first meeting with the (what was a small and forming) leadership team was in May 2006, one month before I got sick. Back then, it was called Recovery Communities. We built this ministry on the premise that Christ shows up in people's pain and brokenness in community with others. I become involved in Refuge because I was busy forming a similar ministry specifically to those affected by abuse, called Jane McVay, which naturally slid underneath the umbrella of Refuge. To this day, this is where my heart lies; I look forward to the growth and development of Jane McVay, as well as of Refuge.

When I had to stop working back in June 2008, I left everything, including Jane McVay and Refuge. I had no idea when or if I would be back. But last Fall I got an itch. I got an itch to go back to Refuge, to serve those in recovery, to be around people I considered to be my family. I knew that I could serve in a leadership development and training role. It would allow me to keep flexible hours and be in relationship with others. When I first approached Clark and Heather (the two closest people on staff to me: until December, Clark was the Refuge director and my former boss; and Heather is the women's formation pastor), they turned me down. They told me I needed more time to heal. Some time later, I approached them again and, to my surprise, they gave me the green light.

Due to external circumstances, I was asked to become the Refuge admin again, a job that I am good at, but also a job that I really didn't want to be doing. Nonetheless, I did it because the need was there. For the next three months I was compliant but dissatisfied, mostly because I felt the job warranted pay, a feeling that I made clear. At first, I thought I was fine with not knowing if I would be paid or not, but as my medical bills piled up and my bank account was being drained faster than I expected, I started to feel the pressure. I realized that I need to be paid if I am going to work or put my time into anything. Sick or not sick, I get that choice.

(At this point, I'm going to leave out a lot of details because that conversation is one reserved for me, him, and a few others. Besides, that's not the point of my story.)

And so one Wednesday afternoon I walked into the Refuge director's office and told him if there was no pay, then I have to leave the ministry. OK, it wasn't that easy. I didn't walk into the office saying that so eloquently and I definitely didn't walk in thinking I was going to quit. I did think, however, that we would have a nice, constructive conversation, one that yielded some wonderful compromises.

Right now I'm learning in my communication class that conflict can quickly escalate, even between two normally rational people. Conflict picks up momentum somewhere in the blur of interpretations, arguments, definitions, and strategies. I can say that our conversation was tense and frustrating for both of us. I cried a few times. I didn't tell him what my finances are like (I have since), but I did tell him that I was beginning to feel like I was being taken advantage of. Over the course of our conversation, I grew more protective and secretive; he seemed to grow more frustrated. Both of us were feeling hurt, confused, in shock. (Note: I have no hard feelings towards any individual, just the system. Ben is a great person and strong leader.)

We left that meeting without a win-win resolution. I knew that I was pretty much done with Refuge, yet I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I walked around in a daze for several days; in some ways, I don't think my departure hasn't sunk in for me yet.

******

Less than an hour after my tense conversation with the Refuge director, James called. I smiled. Talking with him should bring me some relief, I thought. I was riding on the bus when he called, so I stepped off to have a more private conversation. At first we made casual conversation, and then he said, "I have been really surprised at how easy it is to talk with you, but I don't have any romantic feelings for you."

Bad timing.

My investment was small, so the loss wasn't too great. Still, at this point, I was starting to feel pretty crapped on, rejected, exhausted, disappointed, and most of all, confused. These experiences - the arranged marriage, dating, my family drama, the job (or no job) - what do they all mean? Fortunately, by the end of March, it would all become a bit more clear.

A.

March/Five

[Note: To make it more readable, I am breaking up my story about the month of March. This is the fifth installment; I hope all the installments will come out within the next week.]

Hi everyone,

At this point in the story, I feel like I have to stop and really ponder how I was feeling that Sunday morning before and during church with George. Before church I remember my sister asking me how I was feeling. "I am afraid I'm going to hurt him," I said. Yet, I was also motivated to see where this would go. At the very least, this would be an adventure, too good to pass up.

I drove to George's house. It was rainy. I arrived a bit early, so I parked around the corner and prayed. As I pulled up to his house and got out of my car to walk to his door, George came bursting out. I think he had been waiting by the window. I said hello and turned around to walk back to my side of the car. As I did so, he touched my back. I'm sure it was a failed side-hug.

We arrived to church pretty early (and by "early", I mean maybe ten minutes). Few people were sitting down in the sanctuary, but we went in anyways as I didn't feel like wandering around the hallways trying to find people I knew because then I would have had to explain who this guy was (I had told few people). I walked down the aisle in front of George looking for just the right row to sit in (as if I had few choices), a row I knew Clark could find us in. I had texted him the night before asking him to come sit with us so that I would have friendly support. Once I found "the row", I said to George, "Let's just sit here." I slid into the row and looked behind me to find him sitting across the aisle and back a few rows. "How about up here?" I asked.

Before the service, I explained the communion style to him (walk up to the front, dip the bread into the wine or juice), as well as the fact that there will be songs he won't be familiar with. (A side note: I seriously dislike bringing new people to church. No, scratch that. I seriously dislike going to church with guys with whom I have a romantic interest/act-like-we're-dating-but-not-sure-what-we-are/you-like-me-but-I-don't-like-you kind of relationship. I like to worship without distraction.) Just before the service started, George looked at me and asked what I was doing on Monday. My eyes darted left. "Uhhh, I have treatment..." My voice trailed off.

Worship started. Then Rick started to speak. And while his sermon was good, it was no match for the thoughts racing through my mind. Because, at that moment, all reason, sanity and emotions began to catch up with me. The main thought that kept coming up was, I can't give George what he needs: the time he wants to spend with me (he told me that since he didn't have a job at the moment - and neither do I - we could spend all that extra free time to get to know each other); the cultural differences (where do I start?); the fact that I really, really like being an American (I like the idea of being attracted to my significant other before I make a commitment); but, most of all, much of my time is spent in treatment and going to doctor appointments. It was just too much.

During communion, I went outside to the lobby, sat down, buried my head in my arms, and wept. I cried because the gravity of the situation had caught up to me and because I was probably letting go of something that could be pretty grand. On the way home, I told him that this wasn't going to work, that I couldn't give him what he needs. I told him that he was a great guy, but he just wasn't for me.

"Is that your final answer?"

"Yes."

******

James called me a few hours later. I felt relieved and excited for his phone call. We spoke for almost two hours and by the end of the conversation, he asked me to coffee. I accepted, and we set a date two days later. It felt much easier than George.

******

The next day, Monday, I felt so exhausted from the Seattle trip and all the boy drama that I decided to skip treatment and take a day off from everything. I didn't know it at the time, but the decision was a wise choice. Because it was only March 23.

A.

March/Four

[Note: To make it more readable, I am breaking up my story about the month of March. This is the fourth installment; I hope all the installments will come out within the next week.]

Hi everyone,

James and I spoke Wednesday night. The conversation lasted an hour and a half to my surprise. I found that it was easy to talk with him. We had a lot in common. I didn't expect to talk about the Lyme, but once we exchanged last names, he joked that he was going to Google me.

"I don't mind if you Google me," I said, "but you're going to find something about me that might surprise you." I then shared that I am, in fact, ill, which affects my whole life right now. He seemed undeterred about this one (really? am I the only one with issues?) and asked if he could call me in a few days.

I did a great job of keeping the George and James situations separate; I did not allow either one to influence the other one. Perhaps the reason I did a good job keeping the situations separate is because I mentioned the James situation to a few people only. Compartmentalizing really does work sometimes.

The day after I first spoke with James, I traveled up to Seattle to see my doctor. I welcomed the time away - it was sort of like the calm before the storm I suppose. I didn't feel anxious about either situation - I felt more curious than anything. I also got a kick out of the fact that suddenly there were two guys in my life - it was just ironic, that's all.

I expected James to call me on Saturday on my way home from Seattle but he didn't. I felt disappointed, but had to forget about that to prepare for my date with George.

******

George arrived at 5p. Shawn had warned me that he may act really shy at first. His experience with women has been limited to family and women in his Jordanian church. He also instructed me not to to initiate contact for cultural reasons - a real bummer because I was thinking about grabbing his bum...

George greeted me with a handshake and a nice smile. I had no idea what to expect, but he certainly was handsome. Or, at the very least, he was not unattractive. (This is a big step up from some of the previous men I've dated. Admittedly, I'm still learning that attractiveness is quite important in a relationship.) Suhair was in the living room holding her baby when I met George, and I suppose the baby's presence initiated our first conversation about the number of children we wanted.

I was conscious to be a good hostess, help set the table, and ask our guests what they wanted to drink. I wanted to set a good impression, yes, but I also knew felt obligated to show off my "wife qualities." Something about a first date creates a heightened awareness of all my senses, keeps me from being able to relax, and completely overloads my mind. It's like getting into a car with an unknown driver to an unknown destination. And by the end of the drive all I care about is getting home safely.

Dinner went well. I expected all eyes to be on us, so to speak, but everybody played it cool. After dinner, everyone stepped into the living room except for George and me; we stayed at the table. For the next two hours, we spoke with each other. Now, I understood that marriage was on the table. But what I didn't realize was that everything would be on the table that first meeting: finances, kids, where we want to live, life goals, plans. No surprise, George was driving the conversation. This was definitely a first date for the record books.

To be honest, I was pleasantly surprised by how much we had in common. We agreed on a lot. At several moments, I found myself thinking, the Lord is being really kind to me right now. On a personal level, the conversation was helpful for me to see what is really important in a marriage and, just as equally, what is really important to me. We spoke about the values, needs and desires that I'm guessing every couple should talk about before marriage. I found that all of the other stuff isn't so important.

We spoke about my illness. He told me that I didn't have to work and assured me that it was not a problem. (Again, little of our conversation was initiated by me.) At one point, George looked at me said: "So, Shawn tells me you can have children in two years."

My eyes darted to the left. I almost covered my uterus with my hands. "Uhhhh, yeah, I suppose so."

I don't want children in two years, I thought. I kept that to myself.

George went on to tell me that we'll take the next two years to court, marry, and save money until my uterus would be good and ready.

"OK," I said.

******

I decided that there was enough there that I was willing to see where this was going, so I invited him to come with me to church. It's important that this guy meet my church family. So, the next morning I picked him up and we went to church.

A.

March/Three

[Note: To make it more readable, I am breaking up my story about the month of March. This is the third installment; I hope all the installments will come out within the next week.]

Hi everyone,

Change is hard, but being honest with yourself is even harder.

After my lunch with Jane, I walked to a nearby coffee shop to study, though mostly spent my time fighting back tears and journaling. I wrote:

I like rules. I like definition. I like facts and concrete things. I like logic and reason and plans. I like non-fiction and dramas that depict reality. I hate fairy tales, cartoons, and period films that don't really have any effect on my life today.

I am afraid that people won't accept my illness. I'm sick! Lord, goodness! Fuck! You really want me to add this extra stress on? What are you trying to make me do?

I am afraid of losing my identity. Will You be with me? (March 3, 2009)

Somewhere in the tussle, I gave up, gave in, succumbed...whatever you want to call it. I decided to join an Internet dating site. It felt logical, risky, and obligatory. I didn't tell anyone for a while.

******

By the end of the first week of March, I had quietly decided not to pursue the arranged marriage situation, even though I didn't have any particular reason for turning down the offer (save for it being quite bizarre). I told few people about my decision and just let the situation fade in my mind.

******

My oldest brother physically, verbally, and emotionally abused me and my entire family for nearly eight years. His actions have left glaring wounds and scars all over my family members, including me. My response to the entire situation was both to fight and flight. I went to the police for help and then started telling my story. I found counsel from wise professionals and older people in the Church. I found truth and grace in Scripture. I experienced open and honest relationships with others. I also left the state, intentionally going as far as I could, telling my parents I would never be back. I was done with everything that reminded me of the abuse.

Being in Chicago was an incredibly positive experience for me, though it was also a very difficult one. The healing journey is terribly painful; it often feels like the wounds are being reopened, again exposing my flesh to pain and suffering. But the difference between suffering and the healing journey is that the former produces hate, darkness, tears, and death and the latter produces beauty, peace, love, life. Unfortunately, the two can look similar for a long time.

Until a breakthrough.

On my birthday, one of my siblings told me I am the reason for all the pain in my family. I just shook my head - as if I was saying 'try again' - and told her, "No, that's not mine to own." Up until these last few months, my typical response to an accusation like that (it's not the first and probably won't be the last) would have been to allow that garbage to fill my spirit. Carrying around a burden not meant for you is dead weight. It neither adds life nor invites love, trust, and respect.

Knowing where I begin and end, who I am, who I am not, how I will order my life; allowing Christ to enter into all of me; and entering into the Story - that is the most pleasant place to be.

******

The first two weeks of Internet dating was, at best, frustrating and annoying. I felt exposed, and I hate feeling exposed. I was conscientious not to place my hope in the website. Also in those first few weeks, I began communicating with a guy named James. I wasn't all that hopeful: how hard is it to get through all four stages? But he kept communicating with me and I kept responding.

******

In the second week of March, my mom called me saying that Shawn called her several times wondering what my answer was. She told him that was my decision to make. I was startled by Shawn's dogged pursuit for an answer; not only had I pretty much forgotten about the situation, I was also under the impression that I had as much time as I needed to make a decision. Anyhow, I asked mom for Shawn's phone number and then promptly "forgot" to call Shawn for several days.

Until Shawn called me.

It was a warm Sunday afternoon and I was on my way to study in my favorite spot in my favorite neighborhood when Shawn called. I was surprised, embarrassed, and glad he called. Now we can get this over with, I thought. My plan was to tell him 'no' but first I had many questions. Questions about culture, gender roles, immigration; questions about George; questions about why they thought of me; questions about what exactly I would be saying 'yes' to.

It was an engaging conversation. I learned the real story behind Shawn and Suhair's courtship. Apparently, Shawn initially turned down the offer to meet Suhair, but he was asked again a year later and accepted that time. Their courtship was mostly over the Internet and phone since she was still living in Jordan waiting for her Visa to come through. I learned that George and many of his siblings had waited nearly ten years to get a permanent Visa to the United States. I learned that he takes the Bible seriously, including deeply respecting women. I could work or not - it was my choice. Sin, including abuse, is not tolerated.

Shawn explained that what I would be saying 'yes' to is meeting him. That's it. It would also be under casual circumstances and suggested that I could meet him over dinner with Saundra, Trent, Shawn and Suhair - not unlike what happens in America when married couples invite their single friends over for dinner. Shawn explained further that a typical arranged marriage/courtship does not depend on the family to approve. The couple would have authority over the relationship. He said that I would have the right to say 'no' at any point in the relationship. Finally, there is always the possibility that the relationship would turn into marriage just as there is always the possibility that it won't.

"So, why did you think of me?" I asked him.

"Actually, Suhair thought of you," he said. "Believe it or not, I don't know too many single women."

"That's odd, because I know quite a few."

"I think I know you pretty well. You are a strong Christian woman who walks upright with the Lord."

He knows me pretty well? I kept that thought to myself.

"So," I said, "can I think about this some more?"

"Yes, but we would like to know by Tuesday."

"OK."

"Call me at any time with any questions. I know this is a serious matter so just bring it before the Lord."

"OK."

I surprised myself by not saying 'no' to meeting George. I was sure to pray, journal, and speak with a few more friends about the information I had just received. (In just about all my written communication to people, I never mentioned "arranged marriage" - I just told them I had a "pressing issue" - it minimized the shock.) By Monday, I was pretty sure that I was going to say 'yes' to meeting George. But I had just one more question for Shawn.

"Shawn, I just want to clarify something: You know that I've been ill, right?"

"No, I didn't know that."

Cue I think I know you pretty well. I still can't believe that he never knew. I'm sure my parents would have mentioned it at the very least.

"Do you mind if I ask you what it is?" Shawn asked.

"No, I don't mind. Now I'm telling you this because I think George needs to know and I completely understand if he does not want to meet me." I go on to explain Lyme Disease and how it affects my lifestyle right now. I told him there is a risk that I could pass it on to my spouse as well as to my children. I also said that I would most likely be "in the clear" in about two years.

"I can't speak for George, but I wouldn't have a problem with that."

Am I the only one who has issues with my illness? I thought to myself.

In the end, Shawn relayed the message on to George, who had the same reaction as Shawn. We set the date to meet each other for that following Saturday evening.

******

The next day, James wrote me to ask to continue the conversation over the phone.

A.

Physicology/Twenty-One

Dear friends,

Like an old friend who pleasantly returns, so, too, my health is making a comeback. And I am welcoming Her with open arms. When She is around, I think more clearly, I dream more brightly, I handle stress more easily. She brings freedom and hope and life. She is a teacher, a friend, an advocate.

I spent most of today lounging around watching "Grey's Anatomy." Somehow I missed most of the first three or four seasons, so lately I've taken the liberty of catching myself up. I am feeling better (a huge step forward!), but I am being careful that I don't overdo it. When I feel good and strong, my tendency is to start doing stuff, but right now my gut says to take it slow. (So, I compromise by enjoying each episode. If that seems odd to you, try doing anything when you feel like crap...no enjoyment there.)

For the most part, I don't feel bad about spending several hours watching "Grey's" episodes, though I do miss my oldest niece, Jazmyne. Because I don't have a relationship with her father (my oldest brother), I just don't get to see her as much. Jazmyne is seven years old, takes pride in her garden, and loves playing with her cousins. She likes to play on swings and dance in puddles. She is taking an art class in school and is loving every minute of it. Her vocabulary is expanding every week; she proudly shares her quiz scores with me. She is sweet and shy but can get a little crazy, too. (Sounds like me.) And after I became ill, for a long while, every time she would see me she would ask, "Are you still sick?" Children have a way of expressing empathy that most adults need to learn.

I suppose I'm writing about Jazmyne and how much I miss her because the illness has always challenged me to place my priorities in the right order. For three years now, the Lord has been ironing out the answers to questions like Who am I? and Into who and what will you place your time and energy? I don't I have all the answers - those, I suppose, are revealed in time - but I am not running from them anymore. At the very least, I can tell you that I'm not as tired as I used to be.

A.

They Know My Name

Dear friends,

My pharmacists know my name. They know which medicine I take, they know the number of refills I've ever had, and they know how often I take the pills. My pharmacists are the kind who wish me a 'Happy Easter' and a good weekend. They are the kind who ask me how well my stomach is digesting the medicine ("Great!" I always respond...my stomach has few issues with meds) and they are the kind who don't ask too many questions beyond that.

My chiropractor asks me how I am doing. She compliments me on my new glasses. She asks me if I felt any pain from our last visit. (I tend to point to my right hip, "but only for a day or two," I tell her.) Her voice is soft and gentle, always putting me at ease.

My massage therapist tells me that I am always feeling less inflamed, less tense. While she lets me go away to another place for an hour, she wheedles out the junk shacking up in my body. She always tells me she hopes to see me again; I always tell her I'm off to schedule the next appointment.

My Rife coordinator sits with me while I go through treatment. She talks me through my week and counsels me on all the hard life stuff. Sometimes I have a lot to say, sometimes not, but she's always there, always willing, always smiling.

My counselor jumps for joy in her chair. She is always smiling, always listening, always reframing. She is my strongest advocate for health, life, joy, peace. And she is always eager to meet, as am I.

I am thankful that I have so many people (and many more) who genuinely care about my healing. They, too, are participating in this journey with me. In these moments, it is impossible to feel alone.

A.

March/Two

[Note: To make it more readable, I am breaking up my story about the month of March. This is the second installment; I hope all the installments will come out within the next week.]

Hi everyone,

What do I want? That was a difficult question to answer, so I asked friends what I should do about the offer to enter into an arranged marriage. One friend suggested I read Leap of Faith: Memoirs of an Unexpected Life by Queen Noor, an American who is the former queen of Jordan. Having no prior knowledge about the country of Jordan, this book was quite helpful to me. I learned that, compared to its neighbors, Jordan is very friendly and quite Westernized. I learned a lot about the royal court and diplomatic relations. I also found myself intrigued by the love story between Queen Noor and the King. In just three, short weeks, she naively - but conscientiously - accepted his proposal to became the King's fourth wife (he was divorced twice and widowed once).

Yet, as intriguing as the book was, it didn't really help with the decision sitting before me. It's one thing to read or watch a love story from afar, but it's another thing when it's you and you're being asked to enter into marriage with a guy you have never met and you already have issues with love and marriage and you're sweating because you're sincerely hoping you won't miss an opportunity but also trying to hear the voices telling you, "My God! Don't screw up."

It's important to know that I had very limited information about the situation I was being asked to enter into in addition to who this guy was (I will call him George). For all I knew, I was saying "yes" to being married to George and, therefore, to a wedding in a few months' time. Even though I read the book and spoke with others about the culture, I had no idea what to expect in a Jordanian, Christian marriage. Jordan may be a progressive country, but it's still a predominantly Muslim culture. Also, the information I had about George was little - I know more about John Krasinski but no one was asking me to marry him. Here is what I knew about George: he is 37 years old; an international banker; fluent in five languages; a United States resident for all of five months; and looking for a wife, of course. And, apparently, his family thought I would be a good match. Lucky me.

Whether or not I accepted the offer to meet George, a good friend of mine (whom I will call Jane) challenged me to consider what I want, a theme that would not die ever since my mom phoned me. The conversation with Jane was difficult for many reasons, but one thing that she said was that I tend to choose to like guys who will not love me back; there is safety in knowing that I will never have to get too close to a man. I knew Jane was right and told her so, but lamented that I didn't know how to become unstuck. She suggested that if I was really serious about dating, then I need to do something to meet new people, such as going to parties or joining an online dating site.

Her words stung.

"That's not fair," I told her.

I began to cry.

"I'm sick! I can't go to parties. I don't have the money to do online dating."

"Then maybe you're not ready like you say," Jane said.

Her words stung some more.

I grew silent, which is something I do when I feel hurt and sense I am not being heard. Finally, after some time staring at my food, I looked up and said, "I don't know. I don't know what to say. I've got to go."

"Call me soon, OK?" Jane said.

"I will."

I picked up my bag and walked out the door. Though I was free from the immediate conversation, I felt trapped in something deep: something painful, something I couldn't identify. Most of all, I sensed there would be more to the story.

A.

March/One

[Note: To make it more readable, I am breaking up my story about the month of March. I hope all the installments will come out within the next week.]

Hi everyone,

Let me tell you about the month of March:

On March 1, I tried the Doug Machine for the first time (which kicked my butt for a good week and a half). That first night I was so tired and in so much pain that all I was thinking about was going to bed early. So I was lying in bed at around 8:30p making plans to shut things down for the night when I received a phone call from my mom.

Before I explain what that phone call was about, I need to give you a few background details. My family has a friend named Shawn who we have known for several years. He goes to my parents' church. I don't know Shawn all that well, but it was my understanding that he met his Jordanian wife, Suhair, essentially through an arranged marriage maybe four years ago. They just had their first baby in November.

Back to my story: On that first day in March, I was on the phone with my mom. The conversation lasted just a few minutes.

Mom said, "Shawn called dad and me tonight wanting to know if you would be interested in meeting Suhair's brother."

I laughed out loud.

"They don't teach you this in America," I said.

I laughed some more.

"I'm just passing the message on," my mom said.

My mom gave me the few details she had about this guy - though none of those details included his name - and then I asked her why Shawn thought of me. She said that they were looking for a strong Christian woman who obviously loved the Lord.

"But, I did tell Shawn," my mom said, "'You know that Anna is a strong woman, right?'"

"That's right!" I shouted.

"I'm just passing the message along," my mom repeated. She then told me that I could make a decision about this whenever I wanted to.

I happened to be corresponding with a friend about other things at the same time my mom phoned. This is what I wrote my friend just after I hung up:

Um, so guess what phone call I got just now? (Like in the last five minutes?) My mom called to say that I’ve been asked (by a go-between) to essentially enter into an arranged marriage. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Best phone call I’ve ever gotten. Not that I would say yes, but it’s still the best phone call ever. I’m a bit shocked.

I was surprised that I didn't say "no" right away. That night I spoke with Trent and Saundra about the offer I just got. They know Shawn and his wife better than I do, so they were able to give me some advice on it. I also spoke with a few friends over the next few days. I was expecting everyone to tell me the idea was crazy, but so far, no one has. The best response I got was, "Go for it!", and the worst response was, "What do you want?"

A.

My Own Piece of Paradise

Dear friends,

There is nothing better than doing whatever you want just because. To hang out with a friend, to stroll to and fro without time constraints, to sit underneath the sun's embrace. Today was a great day. My day started off by conducting a few interviews for a class assignment (which was a lot of fun), but I mostly spent my day in the Central Eastside neighborhood, which is where I'm hoping to live someday soon. I walked on over to Cooper's to meet up with my friend Carrie, and in so doing, I met a fellow Imagoite (who also happens to be the nephew of a reader of mine). Carrie and I had lunch together outside about 100 feet away from the Willamette River, and then we took a walk on the Eastbank Esplanade. I enjoyed sharing this neighborhood with Carrie because she has a similar appreciation for the city.

After our lunch and stroll, I set off on my own and walked through the neighborhood. I stopped by Olio United just to look. I like the store (I think another Imagoite owns it?), but I've found clothes I like better elsewhere. It doesn't matter anyway - I have no money to be buying anything right now.

The sun was beating bright as I walked on to find a coffee shop that I've seen in passing. Mr. French's is a very small shop that seems to cater mostly to the tenets in the Olympic Mills Commerce Center, which is a flour-mill-turned-office-building. I only meant to peek inside the lobby, but found myself drawn into the building. I found the main floor to have four distinct lobbies/meeting areas, each with its own unique set of Modern furniture and gallery of artwork for sale. No one seemed to mind that some random woman was drifting through the space soaking in the warm sunlight flowing in from the skylights above. I felt alive and alone and connected all at the same time.

I love where this neighborhood is at in its place of history. It's a viable place - plenty of industrial and commercial activity is contributing to the economy - yet the neighborhood is oft hidden from the general public. Few people realize how beautiful and inspiring and raw this place is. I am praying it stays this way for a little while longer. Because I like having my own piece of paradise right in my backyard.

A.

So I Went

Dear friends,

So I went.

Friday morning I got up late, did some chores, checked my email, read the New York Times, and then decided that I would go to Estacada. Just because. I've been wanting to take the bus (#31) out there for quite some time and figured why not? I mean, I did have some school work but what's the difference between working at a coffee shop near my house or in Estacada?

Apparently there is a difference. For one, the bus ride out there is arguably the prettiest route TriMet has, which beats the measly five-minute trip to Bipartisan past any day. Roughly 21 miles from Clackamas Town Center, the ride quickly turns rural, bypassing country markets, sheep, horses, goats, old barns, rivers, and forests. I haven't been to Estacada since I was child (and we all know that everything is bigger when you're a kid), so I was surprised to see that this town is larger than I expected, though not (yet) overrun by chain stores.

I had looked on Google maps for coffee shops, so I came armed with a name and address of one to check out. Scenes 'n Beans is half coffee shop, half movie rental store. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it serves Stumptown Coffee. I'm glad the country folk know good coffee, too. One unique perk about this place is that they have set up a living room of sorts complete with a flat screen TV that plays any movie found in the store for free at the request of customers. As I sat there doing my school work, I did not watch half of "The Bucket List" and a quarter of "The Shawshank Redemption."

After I finished up at the coffee shop, I walked down to the Clackamas River, which sweeps by just a block from the downtown area. I expected to find a pathway near the river, but the best I could find was a sidewalk high up on the bank. I did, however, find a small trail that led me down to some rocks on top of the water. For several minutes, I stood there all by myself, just a few feet above the water, looking down river, then up river, then down river again, praising God for the beauty I get to experience - all for the cost of a bus ride. (I have a monthly pass so it doesn't cost me extra. It's just a matter of taking the opportunity to "see where it takes you.") To be out in the forest on the river was a treat to myself: so fun and so worth it.

Last night, not too long after I arrived home from Estacada, my friend Eric invited me to go surfing with him.

So I went.

Now, mind you, I have never been surfing nor ever really had a hankering to go. But he asked, and I thought, why not? The dude was driving and even had an extra wetsuit for me. All I had to do was pay $15 to rent a board. He even picked me up at a time that allowed me to participate in a conference call this morning.

I joked that my first surfing experience would probably have gone differently if the weather was cold and rainy. But God must have been thinking about me, preparing me for this day. The weather was sunny, warm, and clear. The water wasn't too cold and everyone on the beach was friendly and kind.

I now see why people surf. As one of the guys at the surf shop said, "Surfing makes you experience a different kind of alone." Surfers could be swimming all around, but it all comes down to you: alone with your thoughts, tussling with the mighty waters, understanding that there is something greater than yourself. It's incredibly peaceful.

I didn't have much of a plan or think about going these last few days. I just got up and went. It feels great.

A.

Jolly Good

Dear friends,

For all the stress that has occurred in my life in the last 31 days, I have been most surprised at how well my body has held up. Besides a few nights when I felt absolutely in pain, I'm feeling quite jolly good right now. My mental clarity is outstanding (sharp as a knife), my fatigue has lessened dramatically (coffee? I don't need no stinkin' coffee!), and my joint pain and achyness is nearly non-existent (whoop! whoop!).

This is great. There's no better feeling than feeling healthy, or in my case, relatively healthy. Right now I can probably say that on a scale of 1-10, I feel about a seven. Just a few weeks ago, I told my doctor I was feeling a six.

I am beginning to really understand that my physical body is a communicator. When I change something about my life, my body responds with either reward or resistance. Although the stress in my life hasn't been easy, my body is rewarding me for the resulting consequences and decisions. This must be what it feels like when I am kind to myself.

Even though I cannot see the finish line, I know I am on the right track. That's all I really need to know.

A.