its a mad mission

First, there’s my apartment. The landlords gut-renovated it before I moved in, so I had little to do in the way of fixing up the place. I’ve just finished the living/dining room picture-hanging and book-organizing. I’m looking forward to hosting church stuff (Co-ed Craft Night is November 3), friends, etc. in this great open space. (And there’s also a pic of the other rooms. Those are war zones at the moment.)

And I’ve determined that the almost-finished stairwell outside my door is pretty much the coolest in Greenpoint. A light green half, a bright green half, dark green tile, and red trim. It’s like Christmas all year round. Anyone know the jingle, “Happy Holiday…Ding, Dong, Ding” from Holiday Inn with Bing Crosby? It’s going to be my new doorbell.

Second, there’s another makeover going on in this city. Maybe “makeover” is a cheesy way to put it. But I needed a segue. As much as I enjoy transforming an apartment, being part of the transformation of a city holds even greater joy. Friends, there is a lot of pain here. On days when I’m tired from work and all I want to do is go home and veg, I’ve often come across people who can hardly walk up the subway steps, or someone who very obviously does not have a home, or another who looks deeply bitter at the hard life 40 years in the city has given her. I really have a difficult time keeping it together. Life can be very raw here, and I often feel emotionally and spiritually ill-equipped not only to deal with myself, but also to help these people.

So what’s a 26-year-old girl to do?

That was my question at first, but I’ve begun to realize that in asking that, I’ve forgotten about the thousands of other Christ-followers in this city. I don’t have to rescue everyone I see. I do need to love them, and help them as Christ enables. But I am one person. One very frail, oft-times emotionally rollercoastery girl. God was working here long before I arrived, and will continue to do so with me here and in spite of my failures. It’s pride that makes me think I can bind everyone’s wounds.

So here are a few examples of the greater transformation taking place in NYC that I’ve seen in my five weeks here, and am growing more and more excited to be a small part of…

Church: Williamsburg Church had its charter membership service this past Sunday, with eight people becoming members. More are planning to in the coming weeks. Why become part of a church? Am I earning gold stars on my heaven chart? No–that’s not needed. Christ finished his work for me 2,000 years ago. This is about committing myself to be a part of the transformation of this city by loving its people, particularly through His church. To show that Christ brings unity to a group of people who may have nothing else in common except Him. To show that His love slices through racial barriers, class levels, cultural differences, and other clubs humanity starts in the course of a day.

Work: I was in the bathroom washing my hands a few weeks ago, when another girl, who I hardly knew, turns to me and asks, “Are you a Christian?” I said, “Yes, are you?” And it turns out she and another lady are, and are starting a Bible study with some other women at work who are seeking Truth. One of the women has been praying for about a year for this group to happen. I’d been praying for opportunities as well. The five of us had a great study during lunch the next day, and I’ll be leading it next week. These women have hard life stories, and are making me appreciate the transformation process even more.

Journalism: I had dinner with about 14 other journalism-minded believers a few weeks ago. How do you work towards the redemption of a nation that has in large part rejected God? There are a lot of answers to that question, but one is for journalists to enter one of the most influential cities in the world and get involved in numerous church plants and media outlets, reaching one person at a time with Truth, which in turn affects a huge number of people. But I’ll write more on that some other time, and also continue posting pictures of makeovers and transformations, of both home and human.

In honor of my last evening in the Crafton house, Chloe and I played on the floor while Michelle cooked an amazing chicken dumpling soup. I’m going to miss this little roommate. She’s good medicine after a long day at work.

Yes, Mr. Tolkien, but this wanderer is a bit tired of the nomad life, and very glad to have found an apartment. Let the decorating commence! I’ve got it all plotted out, much like the invasion of Normandy or such, conquering my 800 square feet of polished parquet flooring one flower arrangement at a time. Thankfully, my roommate Deb Kwan is coming from prefurnished student housing, or we might really have a war on our hands. But instead, she likes to bake. I like to eat baked food while I decorate. To quote Jo March as played by June Allyson: “I call that plumby, I really do.” I move in Friday, and will be posting pics as the transformation proceeds.
And I meant to mention, I love getting everyone’s comments, whether notes of encouragement or just of agreement that I have the cutest niece on the East Coast. Keep them coming.

I’m starting to think of potential purchases in terms of how much they weigh. ”Oooh, that juice looks good. Ugh, it’s a half gallon. Guess not.” See, here in the city of mass transport, there is no back trunk in which to throw my Whole Foods bags. Find a good deal on a bookcase? Well, can I carry that on the walk to and from the train, and up the stairs and through the narrow hallway…while carrying the groceries? Oh yeah, and can I access my metrocard without having to put it all down? Not that this “carry culture” is a bad thing. You buy less. You get more exercise. And pretty soon, I’ll have arms and shoulders of steel.

Last night we drove 30 minutes to Red Hook to enjoy the best cupcakes ever while sitting on a pier looked upon by the Statue of Liberty. Sadly, the rats running around our feet dampened our enjoyment of the moment.

Living in the city is going to make me a morning person. There is a freshness to mornings here that wears off by 11. At 7 in the morning on the weekends, there’s a great breeze, some of the locals are out, the trains aren’t crowded, there’s less noise, and you can swing by a local fruit stand and enjoy a good apple. And at 7 in the morning on the weekday, I might catch a seat on the train, the office is quiet when I get there, and I get to leave at 3:30. Which will be nice in the winter, since I might even get outside before night sets in. When you wake up later, though, tourists are out, things are starting to smell a bit, it’s getting warm (or hot), and everyone is bustling here and there. If you take the later morning trains into Manhattan on weekdays, you might as well get a running start and leap in order to squeeze into the packed car (I’ve seen it done). So for those reasons and more, I will become a morning person. Someday.

Girls night out at Williamsburg Church could only be held at one place: Max Brenners, home of chocolate everything. I had chocolate pizza with marhmallows instead of cheese (I’ve been waiting years to see that happen), and others had crepes filled with marshmallows and topped with chocolate. The result…well, you can see below. Can’t wait to eat the second half of my pizza in the morning!

Now I know why they can’t help post so many pics of her. This is her Count Olaf impression.