Sunday, December 26, 2010
All I Really Want for Christmas
We sang this at our Xmas service last Sunday. Rene recently adopted & had the words of this song deep on her heart.
A Merry Christmas from Manhattan
Dear Friends and Family, 
Hoping this letter finds you all healthy and happy during these “holy”days! Many of you already know that this year has been a time of great transition for our little family of four.
In 2009, Jaden began his first year of school part-time at Growing Time Montessori (the school Thalia began attending a few years ago). Jaden was like a fish in water going to school. He was a quick learner and, to my surprise, even began reading by the end of his 2010 school year! (Teachers really are miracle-workers!) Thalia was also attending GTM and enjoyed a whole year of school with her little brother. She graduated from Kindergarten in May and joined the ranks of grade-school kids.
While the kids were consumed with new school experiences, John and I were in the middle of the biggest decision of our marriage, whether or not to move across the country and return to the east coast. We were invited to the NYC church in the fall of ‘09 and fell in love with the congregation there. We knew instantly that God could use us to fill a need in that church. After much prayer and counsel, we sold the house, the car and most of our stuff to pack up and make the trek back east.
It tore our hearts out to leave our longtime friends and family from out west but we were confident this was where God wanted us. It seemed like a crazy idea but we couldn’t be happier with our decision. Now, in the midst of freezing cold temperatures and the constant clamor of the city you’d think we might be reconsidering our choice and yet, not so. We’re having a blast enjoying the seasons, making new friends and taking in all that New York City has to offer. When I left N.Y. over 15 years ago to attend college in California, NYC was not the destination I would have considered raising children in, but now I can’t walk one block from our 42nd St apartment without seeing strollers and families. NYC has definitely become a hub for young families!
Thalia and Jaden attend a small grade school (PS 51) only three blocks from our home and are doing great! Thalia is in the first grade and writing stories each week about all her adventures in the city. She even began an art gallery in her room to raise money to donate in helping needy families in Manhattan. When people come to visit, she graciously ushers them to her wall to ask if they’d like to buy a piece of her work for $1 or so. Budding artist/philanthropist. Jaden is in Pre-K in the same school and is having fun making new friends. He continues to love singing, making music with his dad and finding ways to commandeer our technology. Future filmmaker/musician. Living in Manhattan has definitely heightened both kids’ appreciation for the arts.
John and I love serving the church out here. We’re also incredibly happy to be so close to my family on Long Island. We spent a good amount of the summer enjoying the beaches and the wildlife out there. We realize living in the city, although exciting, requires a need for getaways like those to slow down the pace and enjoy nature.
We’re learning a lot as we go but we’re filled with excitement for what lies ahead. May 2011 bring new adventures and chances to see God move in your life as well!
With Much Love,
John, Arlene, Thalia & Jaden
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Bathroom Blues
I have a friend named Mark. Mark visited, purchased something & at least partially consumed said something from every single Starbucks in Manhattan in 1 day. He lived in an IKEA for a week & on an airplane for a month! Mark is a comedian. Mark is brilliant. Mark is brave, curious and a little insane - which is why he and I get along so well. Mark is a Christian in the New York City Church of Christ. Mark is my friend. 
Last week Mark decided to do a 5-day fast from all technology to help break his social networking and other online addictions. In order to execute the ambitious campaign of ill-communication cleansing, he needed the proper and sacred venue to help hermit himself off from the world for all 120 hours. It was concluded the perfect place would be his pink-painted, 6x9 Queens, New York bathroom.
With all that extra time, Mark made a bucket list of all the things he’s always wanted to do but hadn’t yet...a list limited by what he could accomplish in his lav. The list included writing down all the reasons he loved his wife, memorizing the map locations of all the nations in the world, memorizing the US presidents in order and, perhaps most lofty, learning how to play Poison’s #1 hit “Every Rose Has It’s Thorn” on the guitar.
Enter me. It became my privilege to be the guitar teacher. Bret Michaels had written the tune in a laundry mat after learning that an ex had left him for another man. It’s a song of brokenness, sorrow and loss. Quickly this musical exercise became a metaphor for all that Mark was doing these few days. It was time for him to divorce from his techno bride. 5 days for grieving and then gain. The question was....can it be done? (both the G to C chord progression & the fast itself).
I’ll let you find out what happened. Just google “Mark Malkoff” & “bathroom.” Also check out all the YouTube videos of his other work. Amidst the viral news buzz this all got, there was a little article on the inside cover of AM New York that showed 1 of our guitar lessons. (yes, the names are mixed up in the caption...but you get the picture)
Last week Mark decided to do a 5-day fast from all technology to help break his social networking and other online addictions. In order to execute the ambitious campaign of ill-communication cleansing, he needed the proper and sacred venue to help hermit himself off from the world for all 120 hours. It was concluded the perfect place would be his pink-painted, 6x9 Queens, New York bathroom.
With all that extra time, Mark made a bucket list of all the things he’s always wanted to do but hadn’t yet...a list limited by what he could accomplish in his lav. The list included writing down all the reasons he loved his wife, memorizing the map locations of all the nations in the world, memorizing the US presidents in order and, perhaps most lofty, learning how to play Poison’s #1 hit “Every Rose Has It’s Thorn” on the guitar.
Enter me. It became my privilege to be the guitar teacher. Bret Michaels had written the tune in a laundry mat after learning that an ex had left him for another man. It’s a song of brokenness, sorrow and loss. Quickly this musical exercise became a metaphor for all that Mark was doing these few days. It was time for him to divorce from his techno bride. 5 days for grieving and then gain. The question was....can it be done? (both the G to C chord progression & the fast itself).
I’ll let you find out what happened. Just google “Mark Malkoff” & “bathroom.” Also check out all the YouTube videos of his other work. Amidst the viral news buzz this all got, there was a little article on the inside cover of AM New York that showed 1 of our guitar lessons. (yes, the names are mixed up in the caption...but you get the picture)
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Michael Jackson Dance Party
Couple weeks ago Thalia invited all her church friends to an MJ Dance party at our house that Saturday at 2pm. By the time we found out, every 5 & 6 year old in our congregation was already asking their parents for a ride & a white glove.
She had cried herself to sleep a few nights missing her friends from LA. I'd catch her huddled up by the nightlight looking at the photo-farewell book from her friends at school. I felt like I was staring into some kind of Harry Potter mirror, showing me what I would look like if I was manifesting all the inside emotion of a 6 year old.
Call it "maturity" or a hard-heart, gritting it out or growing up, I've felt the heart-string tug-o-war. The move has been miraculous, and we wouldn't have it any other way. But, that doesn't erase the loss & grief I feel from missing my friends & family.
After reading Jesus, I learned it's OK to grieve. After reading Job, I learned it's necessary to grieve. After reading Lamentations, I learned how to grieve creatively. So here I was, about to host my first, 1st grade Michael Jackson Dance Party, and I realized I may be the one who needs it the most.
Streamers streamed from every inch of white space on our popcorn-painted ceiling. Warm, baking cupcake goodness wafted out into the halls of the fortieth floor. New York pizza slices sacred & succulent, ice-cold punch and mac-n-cheese balls garnished the fiesta. And yes, I did sport the sparkling white glove.
We played MJ trivia, we did a freeze dance game to Beat It and we even pulled the parents in on a few Jackson 5 classics. 10 kids and 7 adults marked success all around. All left satisfied, but none more than Thalia & me as we snuggled on the couch later and shared what our favorites parts of the party were. We talked about our new friends in this new city. We talked about how it's OK to remember the old memories but how we also need to make new ones. Our eyes smiled close...and then Jaden jumped on us & instigated the next installment of Markowski Wrestlemania.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Heels Heal
A heavy Ikea box housing future furniture fell on Thalia’s ankle this past Wednesday. It looked like a deep gash, about an inch across the back of her ankle above the heel. We took a picture and sent it to Ryan’s dad to see if it was ER-worthy. We weren’t sure...do we wait it out? does she need stitches? Amidst the screaming, we heard just enough on the phone with Nurse Deb to take her to 50th & 10th’s Roosevelt Hospital, about 8 blocks north of us.
It was 4:15pm. I called down to our doorman Joseph to see if he could hail us a cab. Five minutes later when we made it down to the lobby Joseph was still out there trying. Perplexed because we normally get cabs in less than 10 seconds, we stood for another 5 minutes with all our hands raised hoping for our yellow chariot. Picture this scene: Felicia, 6’ stunning African American woman, Ryan, 6’2” strapping Princeton grad, Arlene with Jaden, all waving at cabs, and me holding my bleeding daughter almost in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Manhattan with dozens of empty taxis speeding right by us.
“There is a time to kill and a time to heal.” Ecclesiastes 3:3
ARE THEY IGNORING US? IS THIS THE TWILIGHT ZONE? WHAT IS HAPPENING?!
We learned later that all the cabbies in New York City switch shifts between 4 and 5 and typically won’t pick anybody up during that time.
Without many options we saw the M11 come creeping up tenth. Arlene & I looked at each other and telepathically agreed, “I guess we’re about to take the slow bus up to the Emergency Room.”
The M11, like our fave M42, is a typical New York bus packed to the hilt with humans of the most intriguing kind. From the angry to the affectionate, the nice to the nasty these natives are mostly regular riders, fearless and determined to make and mark their way. They are seldom unwilling to engage in conversation but not so much when it comes to giving up their seat. Oh, the sacred city seat! Subway seats, bus seats, rail seats, seats of any kind are a New Yorker’s inner-most desire. Some cush for the tush after a hard-day’s day (or night) is a most enviable position.
Now, there are rules for these sort of things; you must give up your seat for the elderly, the handicapped and some other special cases, like BLEEDING CHILDREN ON THEIR WAY TO THE ER. However, as with any other rule, there’s no fun in them if they’re not regularly being broken. So there I was again, arms full with my broken little girl, standing at the mercy of the seated. After 3 stops and some enlightening conversation, a young woman did offer her beloved, right-angled plastic masterpiece of machinery. We gladly accepted.
By this time, Thalia’s wailing had died down. With so much stimulation, how can a six year old stay focused on the pain?!
We arrived at the hospital mostly whole and still hopeful. Another hour and a half pass, Jaden getting antsy and nerves a little raw. It’s a fascinating stage: a small room, a blaring flat screen, a security guard, 20-30 injured waiting bloody & anxious and 1 nurse. Is there something I’m missing? Perhaps the word “Emergency” should be stricken from the record. Words like urgent, fast or now come to mind as I consider what Emergency means to me. No sentiments of that sort lingered here. In fact, antonyms like slow, relaxed, apathetic, neutral, mellow and aloof were much more prevalent. This was no Emergency Room, this was a lounge where people come to wait and watch the latest supreme court nominee grilling session.
Another perplexing observation. The following tasks are assigned to the 1 nurse who sits in a glass box: give people direction when they first enter the room, sign people in, explain the form & stamping procedure for the form, take insurance information, assess the injured, take blood pressure and temperature, fill out the computer info packet on each individual, create ID wrist bracelets, pass along the info to the doctors, print invoice and then call in the next patient. Of course, she is seemingly unfazed by the fact that the sound of her voice is severely muffled by the glass box she sits in when she calls out those names....so 5 or 6 people usually stand and come up to clarify who exactly is being called each time.
The security guard does nothing.
We did make it into Roosevelt’s inner sanctum, the holiest of holies. Here they provide a room for you and your family, complete with bed and comfy chairs. It is quiet and peaceful and a very hip doctor who knows about iPhones and the latest World Cup scores attends to your every need. Another nurse comes in between the doctor visits and offers you comforting words, smiles, engages the children and offers blankets, coffee, champagne and caviar. Ok, not the caviar...but you get the idea.
Thalia got 4 stitches and we caught a cab home; it was almost 9.
Hindsight was all gratitude. We realized that we’re now knowledgable of the terrain if we further encounter any ER-type situations. We’re prepared with new information about private cars and ambulance availability. God gave us a practice run. Thalia is doing great & will get the stitches out next week. We’re so proud of how brave she handled herself, happy heals are healing and that we’re all mended and moving on.
It was 4:15pm. I called down to our doorman Joseph to see if he could hail us a cab. Five minutes later when we made it down to the lobby Joseph was still out there trying. Perplexed because we normally get cabs in less than 10 seconds, we stood for another 5 minutes with all our hands raised hoping for our yellow chariot. Picture this scene: Felicia, 6’ stunning African American woman, Ryan, 6’2” strapping Princeton grad, Arlene with Jaden, all waving at cabs, and me holding my bleeding daughter almost in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Manhattan with dozens of empty taxis speeding right by us.
“There is a time to kill and a time to heal.” Ecclesiastes 3:3
ARE THEY IGNORING US? IS THIS THE TWILIGHT ZONE? WHAT IS HAPPENING?!
We learned later that all the cabbies in New York City switch shifts between 4 and 5 and typically won’t pick anybody up during that time.
Without many options we saw the M11 come creeping up tenth. Arlene & I looked at each other and telepathically agreed, “I guess we’re about to take the slow bus up to the Emergency Room.”
The M11, like our fave M42, is a typical New York bus packed to the hilt with humans of the most intriguing kind. From the angry to the affectionate, the nice to the nasty these natives are mostly regular riders, fearless and determined to make and mark their way. They are seldom unwilling to engage in conversation but not so much when it comes to giving up their seat. Oh, the sacred city seat! Subway seats, bus seats, rail seats, seats of any kind are a New Yorker’s inner-most desire. Some cush for the tush after a hard-day’s day (or night) is a most enviable position.
Now, there are rules for these sort of things; you must give up your seat for the elderly, the handicapped and some other special cases, like BLEEDING CHILDREN ON THEIR WAY TO THE ER. However, as with any other rule, there’s no fun in them if they’re not regularly being broken. So there I was again, arms full with my broken little girl, standing at the mercy of the seated. After 3 stops and some enlightening conversation, a young woman did offer her beloved, right-angled plastic masterpiece of machinery. We gladly accepted.
By this time, Thalia’s wailing had died down. With so much stimulation, how can a six year old stay focused on the pain?!
We arrived at the hospital mostly whole and still hopeful. Another hour and a half pass, Jaden getting antsy and nerves a little raw. It’s a fascinating stage: a small room, a blaring flat screen, a security guard, 20-30 injured waiting bloody & anxious and 1 nurse. Is there something I’m missing? Perhaps the word “Emergency” should be stricken from the record. Words like urgent, fast or now come to mind as I consider what Emergency means to me. No sentiments of that sort lingered here. In fact, antonyms like slow, relaxed, apathetic, neutral, mellow and aloof were much more prevalent. This was no Emergency Room, this was a lounge where people come to wait and watch the latest supreme court nominee grilling session.
Another perplexing observation. The following tasks are assigned to the 1 nurse who sits in a glass box: give people direction when they first enter the room, sign people in, explain the form & stamping procedure for the form, take insurance information, assess the injured, take blood pressure and temperature, fill out the computer info packet on each individual, create ID wrist bracelets, pass along the info to the doctors, print invoice and then call in the next patient. Of course, she is seemingly unfazed by the fact that the sound of her voice is severely muffled by the glass box she sits in when she calls out those names....so 5 or 6 people usually stand and come up to clarify who exactly is being called each time.
The security guard does nothing.
We did make it into Roosevelt’s inner sanctum, the holiest of holies. Here they provide a room for you and your family, complete with bed and comfy chairs. It is quiet and peaceful and a very hip doctor who knows about iPhones and the latest World Cup scores attends to your every need. Another nurse comes in between the doctor visits and offers you comforting words, smiles, engages the children and offers blankets, coffee, champagne and caviar. Ok, not the caviar...but you get the idea.
Thalia got 4 stitches and we caught a cab home; it was almost 9.
Hindsight was all gratitude. We realized that we’re now knowledgable of the terrain if we further encounter any ER-type situations. We’re prepared with new information about private cars and ambulance availability. God gave us a practice run. Thalia is doing great & will get the stitches out next week. We’re so proud of how brave she handled herself, happy heals are healing and that we’re all mended and moving on.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Raindrops on Rooftops
Tupak took 5 bullets in the lobby of an NYC recording studio. In the years since, the likes of Alicia Keys, Mariah Carey, John Legend & others have recorded at that same studio on the penthouse level of 48th & 7th Ave.
It’s that kind of celebrity lore & legend that sustains the next generation of the industry. Its vampiric ambition for young blood is insatiable. Recession-proof & built Ford-tough like a Model T the pop-rocks-top-the-chart-locks of long-haired wonders stream in from every nation to make it into penthouses like these.
Waiting in the lobby doorway to be escorted up was a little surreal. I tried to think about where he might’ve been standing that night, where the shots were fired, how people on the street might’ve reacted. A pair of NYPD blue were posted outside the door tonight; was that every night?
I went up with “Winter” to the penthouse to meet up with N Result doing a video shoot on the rooftop. There’s always a first line in these situations; its either an in or a nothin. Mine was “so you guys are the only building on the island with a 13th floor?” Winter chuckled but then quickly defended it being the “penthouse” and only technically also 13 floors up. I retorted in contextual and humorous kind with “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the call button says floor 13.” He frowned in juvenile fear like the first time he saw “Thriller.” I said “you’re in trouble!” and we laughed as we exited the elevator.
Gia, Lisa & Helena added spiritual support rep’ing the church well in this environment as Ross & Chamire held the line with industry exec’s, film directors, camera men, stylists, staff & engineers. However, the mixture of exhaustion & accessibility can make addicts of us all. I hoped to tip the scales decisively in our favor.
I went up on the rooftop and looked down to the thousands of tourist & native alike, both jockeying for position & popularity in the busiest of city streets. Its just as lost up here as it is down there.
Lone-ranger raindrop hits the billboard behind me...storms coming in.
Job 27:6 I will maintain my righteousness and never let go of it; my conscience will not reproach me as long as I live.
+
Acts 24:16 So I strive always to keep my conscience clear before God and man.
+
1 Corinthians 4:4 My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me.
+
1 Timothy 3:9 They must keep hold of the deep truths of the faith with a clear conscience.
N Result
http://www.myspace.com/thenresult
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yC6wdT3N0yI
It’s that kind of celebrity lore & legend that sustains the next generation of the industry. Its vampiric ambition for young blood is insatiable. Recession-proof & built Ford-tough like a Model T the pop-rocks-top-the-chart-locks of long-haired wonders stream in from every nation to make it into penthouses like these.
Waiting in the lobby doorway to be escorted up was a little surreal. I tried to think about where he might’ve been standing that night, where the shots were fired, how people on the street might’ve reacted. A pair of NYPD blue were posted outside the door tonight; was that every night?
I went up with “Winter” to the penthouse to meet up with N Result doing a video shoot on the rooftop. There’s always a first line in these situations; its either an in or a nothin. Mine was “so you guys are the only building on the island with a 13th floor?” Winter chuckled but then quickly defended it being the “penthouse” and only technically also 13 floors up. I retorted in contextual and humorous kind with “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the call button says floor 13.” He frowned in juvenile fear like the first time he saw “Thriller.” I said “you’re in trouble!” and we laughed as we exited the elevator.
Gia, Lisa & Helena added spiritual support rep’ing the church well in this environment as Ross & Chamire held the line with industry exec’s, film directors, camera men, stylists, staff & engineers. However, the mixture of exhaustion & accessibility can make addicts of us all. I hoped to tip the scales decisively in our favor.
I went up on the rooftop and looked down to the thousands of tourist & native alike, both jockeying for position & popularity in the busiest of city streets. Its just as lost up here as it is down there.
Lone-ranger raindrop hits the billboard behind me...storms coming in.
Job 27:6 I will maintain my righteousness and never let go of it; my conscience will not reproach me as long as I live.
+
Acts 24:16 So I strive always to keep my conscience clear before God and man.
+
1 Corinthians 4:4 My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me.
+
1 Timothy 3:9 They must keep hold of the deep truths of the faith with a clear conscience.
N Result
http://www.myspace.com/thenresult
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yC6wdT3N0yI
Saturday, June 5, 2010
40 Floors 2 Freedom
“Old” Sublime melodies tune in on my brain-dar as my ears pop for the umpteenth time sailing up to floor forty. There are four fast elevators from the lobby up to the penthouse on floor forty-six; minus one because there’s no thirteenth.
I’m now a firm believer in elevator talk. I used to be a silent rider, but since the move into Manhattan my mind is renewed. I’ve met over thirty fellow building residers on the elevator; a few families, a few artists, a few Californians and my new buddy Mansig, floor 29, who’s pumped to play me in some billiards downstairs.
My new address is 561 10th Ave. 40D New York, New York. The building is called the “Victory.”
I’m now a firm believer in elevator talk. I used to be a silent rider, but since the move into Manhattan my mind is renewed. I’ve met over thirty fellow building residers on the elevator; a few families, a few artists, a few Californians and my new buddy Mansig, floor 29, who’s pumped to play me in some billiards downstairs.
My new address is 561 10th Ave. 40D New York, New York. The building is called the “Victory.”
Monday, May 31, 2010
The L.I. double-R
from 5.19
I’m on the “L.I. double-R” into the city. Running since 1844, New Yorkers climb aboard in the thousands to take the Long Island Railroad every morning into Manhattan from places like Patchogue, Massapequa, Islip & Babylon. Mine was the 6:37 train. I’ll get into Penn Station a little after 8.
Admiring the lush green from the backwards-facing train car, I reflect on Thalia’s statement last night before she went to bed. In tears, “I wanna go home” creeps out between dramatic gasps for air. She explained how at first she was crying because Jaden hit her in the head, mad after thinking Thalia stole one of his blankets. Then, after a classic Jaden apology and an “I love you” from her little brother, she began to feel sad about missing San Gabriel, school, church, friends...
I did my best to console and describe that home is not limited by house. After some level of success I let Arlene close the deal, as Moms can uniquely do. After a good snuggle session, the girls ended up planning our first visit back to California, complete with stops at all the places Thalia was missing: that’s genius-level parenting.
Maybe its just like me on the LI Double R, seeing creation’s finest through pane glass. We’re going 80 miles an hour when the dew drops & nestled, cascading streams of liquid peace are crying for hours of quality time. 3 days before we left LA I got a speeding ticket on my way to Old Town Pasadena. I was going 46 in a 30 on Colorado Blvd. Arlene & I had plenty of time...no rush to return a cable I didn’t need from Apple. Ironic that I was in the middle of a Jonah-like prayer in the belly of my leviathon-like Toyota Rav-4, pouring my heart out about submission to God’s plan, the move, our marriage. Guess I didn’t notice how my foot kept descending as my soul ascended, how the physical pressure increased as the emotional pressure decreased. Alleviation, acceleration, concentration, exultation.
Regardless of self-reflexive, rear-facing thoughts on stretched-out allegories, this train is still moving. It makes its stops but only for a moment. My only exit is at the end of the line. My ticket is 1-way and it’s paid in full. I’ll see you there.
I’m on the “L.I. double-R” into the city. Running since 1844, New Yorkers climb aboard in the thousands to take the Long Island Railroad every morning into Manhattan from places like Patchogue, Massapequa, Islip & Babylon. Mine was the 6:37 train. I’ll get into Penn Station a little after 8.
Admiring the lush green from the backwards-facing train car, I reflect on Thalia’s statement last night before she went to bed. In tears, “I wanna go home” creeps out between dramatic gasps for air. She explained how at first she was crying because Jaden hit her in the head, mad after thinking Thalia stole one of his blankets. Then, after a classic Jaden apology and an “I love you” from her little brother, she began to feel sad about missing San Gabriel, school, church, friends...
I did my best to console and describe that home is not limited by house. After some level of success I let Arlene close the deal, as Moms can uniquely do. After a good snuggle session, the girls ended up planning our first visit back to California, complete with stops at all the places Thalia was missing: that’s genius-level parenting.
Maybe its just like me on the LI Double R, seeing creation’s finest through pane glass. We’re going 80 miles an hour when the dew drops & nestled, cascading streams of liquid peace are crying for hours of quality time. 3 days before we left LA I got a speeding ticket on my way to Old Town Pasadena. I was going 46 in a 30 on Colorado Blvd. Arlene & I had plenty of time...no rush to return a cable I didn’t need from Apple. Ironic that I was in the middle of a Jonah-like prayer in the belly of my leviathon-like Toyota Rav-4, pouring my heart out about submission to God’s plan, the move, our marriage. Guess I didn’t notice how my foot kept descending as my soul ascended, how the physical pressure increased as the emotional pressure decreased. Alleviation, acceleration, concentration, exultation.
Regardless of self-reflexive, rear-facing thoughts on stretched-out allegories, this train is still moving. It makes its stops but only for a moment. My only exit is at the end of the line. My ticket is 1-way and it’s paid in full. I’ll see you there.
In Process...
from 5.17
Try selling a piece of property in this market lately? Exactly. It’s not really the right time. After 5 weeks of trying to sell the house, we had over 40 people take a look but no serious buyer. Then along came the Xia family....a gift from God. After realizing we were all Trojans (both husband and wife are PhD cancer research scientists at USC’s Norris Cancer Hospital) we became fast friends. Shortly after they made an offer we were signing papers and then they came to Easter’s church service with us! We’re so excited about our new friendship with the Xia family and their new home.
It was the biggest truck I’ve ever seen. We thought 5000 pounds was a lot but then learned we’d only be filling a tenth of the truck as it makes its rounds cross country picking up other families’ poundage along the way. Our load might’ve been heavier but we went on a garage-sale-Craig’s-list-selling-spree and were able to simplify our list of possessions by almost 50%. Another half of that will go to Long Island....we’re hoping the final 25% will fit in our Manhattan apt.
One last stop...USC’s graduation. Including our own, we’ve been to 6 commencements at Troy; so we had to get the perfect 7. Yaminah, Cy & Marie made us proud as they walked across those stages getting degrees in Engineering, Business & Communication.
Each step across campus was a heavy one as Arlene & I realized they’d be our last for a long time. Places have a way of becoming sacred; halls stuffed with nostalgia, classrooms that housed our maturation, grassy hills our kids slid down, tented patches of land our grill burned brightly into game night...The Galen was stout with pride. Taper Hall nestled in the shadows of each state’s tree from Founder’s. The intramural & practice fields were their annual home to the ceremonial class of grad day, an always welcome shift from cleats & tackles. Doheny’s flowers were in full bloom and Bovard stood like a light house, guiding us east. Today, however, not everything is the same. Sample is retired, the commons we knew are destroyed & reconstructed, and Pete has moved on. We are left to interpret the signals as encouragements for our own move, be it a bit bitter & some sweet.
We spent our last 2 nights with the Fuquas. Marty made is his famous mac-n-cheese and the kids helped walk Jack & Lucy through South Pas. Where would we be without them? Fact is, there is no “we” without them.
Try selling a piece of property in this market lately? Exactly. It’s not really the right time. After 5 weeks of trying to sell the house, we had over 40 people take a look but no serious buyer. Then along came the Xia family....a gift from God. After realizing we were all Trojans (both husband and wife are PhD cancer research scientists at USC’s Norris Cancer Hospital) we became fast friends. Shortly after they made an offer we were signing papers and then they came to Easter’s church service with us! We’re so excited about our new friendship with the Xia family and their new home.
It was the biggest truck I’ve ever seen. We thought 5000 pounds was a lot but then learned we’d only be filling a tenth of the truck as it makes its rounds cross country picking up other families’ poundage along the way. Our load might’ve been heavier but we went on a garage-sale-Craig’s-list-selling-spree and were able to simplify our list of possessions by almost 50%. Another half of that will go to Long Island....we’re hoping the final 25% will fit in our Manhattan apt.
One last stop...USC’s graduation. Including our own, we’ve been to 6 commencements at Troy; so we had to get the perfect 7. Yaminah, Cy & Marie made us proud as they walked across those stages getting degrees in Engineering, Business & Communication.
Each step across campus was a heavy one as Arlene & I realized they’d be our last for a long time. Places have a way of becoming sacred; halls stuffed with nostalgia, classrooms that housed our maturation, grassy hills our kids slid down, tented patches of land our grill burned brightly into game night...The Galen was stout with pride. Taper Hall nestled in the shadows of each state’s tree from Founder’s. The intramural & practice fields were their annual home to the ceremonial class of grad day, an always welcome shift from cleats & tackles. Doheny’s flowers were in full bloom and Bovard stood like a light house, guiding us east. Today, however, not everything is the same. Sample is retired, the commons we knew are destroyed & reconstructed, and Pete has moved on. We are left to interpret the signals as encouragements for our own move, be it a bit bitter & some sweet.
We spent our last 2 nights with the Fuquas. Marty made is his famous mac-n-cheese and the kids helped walk Jack & Lucy through South Pas. Where would we be without them? Fact is, there is no “we” without them.
Monday, May 10, 2010
So This Is Goodbye
In September of 2009 we got a phone call from a friend and fellow minister from the east coast. He asked if we'd ever be interested in helping the church out in New York City. I quickly said "no." I grew up in Syracuse, NY and have many fond memories of my time there but since I've been in Los Angeles I've fallen in love with the people and the place. However strong I felt on that phone call he asked me to pray about it and I consented.
Arlene was born in Jersey City and grew up on Long Island. Her whole pre-college life surrounded the big city and when she became a Christian on the west coast going to school at USC she hoped to go back and give back to the place she knew so well. However, over the years the dream seemed more and more a fantasy as life and ministry filled each moment here in LA.
Fast forward back to that phone call I had...so we gave a week to thinking about thinking about it. I actually prayed for God to take the thought away. "I didn't need a move like this in my life right now" I thought. We own a home, a car, our kids go to a school run by disciples from the church and we're surrounded by best friends and family. We lead the campus at USC, where Arlene and I became Christians and graduated ourselves....we leave all that?
But God wouldn't let it go. I couldn't stop thinking about the possibilities, everything would remind me of it and I even started having dreams about living there. Advisors in our lives recommended we go ahead and check out the possibility. Eventually we were invited to visit/interview with the church in New York City. We arrived, curious and clueless, on November 4th.
It didn't take long to catch the vision God was pitching to us. After speaking with dozens of advisors, praying & fasting, visiting again in January and testing God's resolve for a total of 6 months, we finally made our decision to move.
In Acts 20, Paul says "so long" to his bff's in Ephesus. "And now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem, not knowing what will happen to me there. I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me."
There are 71,000 people per square mile in New York City. In comparison, there are 8000 people per square mile in Los Angeles. There are an estimated 250 buildings in Manhattan alone. People are always out, always ambitious, always moving. It's the biggest city in the US, the Center of Culture, Politics & Finance, the Birthplace of Hip-Hop and Salsa. 170 languages are spoken there. And, a surprise to me, of the 25 most populated cities in America, it is now the SAFEST.
Despite its stacked population layers, New York City isn't exactly the social melting pot of intimacy. 50% of the homes in NY are occupied by 1 person. Out of 3000 counties in the United States, NY has the largest percentage of single-family households. 430,000 New Yorkers suffer from depression and 200,000 have Anxiety Disorders according to the NYC Dept of Health & Mental Hygiene. Also, those in their 20’s & 30’s are twice as likely Depressed than other ages. As Jay-Z says "8 million stories out there and their naked, cities is a pity half of y’all won’t make it." So much naive ambition and so many dashed dreams await. The once bright-eyed now cynical glares make the norm in this modern Gotham. We are both divinely compelled and warned about moving to NYC. We know NOT what to expect there but we do know people need help to hope, especially the young.
"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace. When he had said this, he knelt down with all of them and prayed. They all wept as they embraced him and kissed him. What grieved them most was his statement that they would never see his face again. Then they accompanied him to the ship." Thanks to modern tech, text, skype, iChat, facebook, twitter (and the like) we won't face Paul's same fate with never being able to "see" his friends again. But, the distance will be challenging to overcome and so we hope to update this blog to keep people posted and connected.
We sold our house and most everything in it. So we go with your prayers in our pockets for extra strength. We wear a coat stuffed with memories to keep us warm. Our wallet is filled with emotional capital, which is the most valuable currency when traveling to a new place. Our children sport sneakers with extra soul padding from the years you cared for them like your own. Our joints swing swift and smooth as the cartilage of the body of Christ binds us as one. We thank you. We are blessed by you. We miss you already.
"After we had torn ourselves away from them, we put out to sea..."
Arlene was born in Jersey City and grew up on Long Island. Her whole pre-college life surrounded the big city and when she became a Christian on the west coast going to school at USC she hoped to go back and give back to the place she knew so well. However, over the years the dream seemed more and more a fantasy as life and ministry filled each moment here in LA.
Fast forward back to that phone call I had...so we gave a week to thinking about thinking about it. I actually prayed for God to take the thought away. "I didn't need a move like this in my life right now" I thought. We own a home, a car, our kids go to a school run by disciples from the church and we're surrounded by best friends and family. We lead the campus at USC, where Arlene and I became Christians and graduated ourselves....we leave all that?
But God wouldn't let it go. I couldn't stop thinking about the possibilities, everything would remind me of it and I even started having dreams about living there. Advisors in our lives recommended we go ahead and check out the possibility. Eventually we were invited to visit/interview with the church in New York City. We arrived, curious and clueless, on November 4th.
It didn't take long to catch the vision God was pitching to us. After speaking with dozens of advisors, praying & fasting, visiting again in January and testing God's resolve for a total of 6 months, we finally made our decision to move.
In Acts 20, Paul says "so long" to his bff's in Ephesus. "And now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem, not knowing what will happen to me there. I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me."
There are 71,000 people per square mile in New York City. In comparison, there are 8000 people per square mile in Los Angeles. There are an estimated 250 buildings in Manhattan alone. People are always out, always ambitious, always moving. It's the biggest city in the US, the Center of Culture, Politics & Finance, the Birthplace of Hip-Hop and Salsa. 170 languages are spoken there. And, a surprise to me, of the 25 most populated cities in America, it is now the SAFEST.
Despite its stacked population layers, New York City isn't exactly the social melting pot of intimacy. 50% of the homes in NY are occupied by 1 person. Out of 3000 counties in the United States, NY has the largest percentage of single-family households. 430,000 New Yorkers suffer from depression and 200,000 have Anxiety Disorders according to the NYC Dept of Health & Mental Hygiene. Also, those in their 20’s & 30’s are twice as likely Depressed than other ages. As Jay-Z says "8 million stories out there and their naked, cities is a pity half of y’all won’t make it." So much naive ambition and so many dashed dreams await. The once bright-eyed now cynical glares make the norm in this modern Gotham. We are both divinely compelled and warned about moving to NYC. We know NOT what to expect there but we do know people need help to hope, especially the young.
"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace. When he had said this, he knelt down with all of them and prayed. They all wept as they embraced him and kissed him. What grieved them most was his statement that they would never see his face again. Then they accompanied him to the ship." Thanks to modern tech, text, skype, iChat, facebook, twitter (and the like) we won't face Paul's same fate with never being able to "see" his friends again. But, the distance will be challenging to overcome and so we hope to update this blog to keep people posted and connected.
We sold our house and most everything in it. So we go with your prayers in our pockets for extra strength. We wear a coat stuffed with memories to keep us warm. Our wallet is filled with emotional capital, which is the most valuable currency when traveling to a new place. Our children sport sneakers with extra soul padding from the years you cared for them like your own. Our joints swing swift and smooth as the cartilage of the body of Christ binds us as one. We thank you. We are blessed by you. We miss you already.
"After we had torn ourselves away from them, we put out to sea..."
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