I guess this is why we have sabbaths - Janny

It's chilly and rainy. I'm at a tea shop drinking "yogi yogi tchai". Occasionally a drop falls from the tree above me and is a damp reminder of why I'm not out walking somewhere, doing something touristy. I chose to sit outside even though it's cold because it's beautiful. It's a paradise of green and pink, yellow and white. Trees and flowers and birdsong.
Oh yeah, and construction. There's a building going up next door. I look up to see what's making the sawing noise and see a spray of orange sparks as the construction worker cuts off edges of re-bar. The smell of kerosene or something else highly flammable permeates the air.
A helicopter flies by. A bee lands on a flower. Nature and progress together. God giving peace amidst hectic lives.
Life may fall apart again in a few minutes, a few hours or days, but at least I have the memory of the beautiful places I've been here in Scotland. I can't wait to play dominoes tomorrow. Yay!

couldn't help it

when bad pictures happen to good people

tidbits -kate

Okay, so... what has been going on for the last couple of weeks?

Sorry- um- I was momentarily distracted, I'm sitting in a Starbucks in Glasgow and the two 12-year-olds sitting next to me just started making out... I mean she's on his lap and everything.  I'd bark at them to get a room- but I don't want to encourage them.

First of all, I should note that Ben has been faithfully blogging, however his firewall has been secretly buttressed and for reasons completely beyond our understanding, his fire-wall won't let him log onto the internet anywhere.  The filter's function is to keep Ben from getting caught in a porn-nado... it makes me wonder what's flying through the air around here if his computer has decided that Ben would be better off just staying offline completely... 

My point is, Ben would have plenty to say if he could get online- instead it's up to me.

We fell into a regular groove at the Glasgow city mission.  We can now, more or less, function there with a minimum of direction.  Daniel (one of the staff members there) has decided that we all need to have Glaswegian accents when we return to the US.  He' s done his best to teach me such colloquialisms such as "Aye cannuh be butherred" ( I can't be bothered) or "Hiedyeun" (How- ya doing)  and I in turn have taught him such American winners as "Dude, where's the keg?"  He's pretty good at it.

Janny's favorite day at the shelter is Wednesdays, because that's when they have the "Over 40-s Men's Club"  and a couple of gents taught us the finer points of playing dominoes- a game we got so good at our first time out they accused us of hustling them.

We had the chance to view a "football" (soccer) game at a local pub.  The Euro 2008 series is going strong.  (In lieu of actually having any knowledge of Euro 2008, I shouted "GO BRONCOS!" whenever anything significant happened) Our local friends were all cheering for the Czech Republic team... since no UK teams made the championships.  When I asked Lindsay (a delightful, spirited kick-in-the-head, kind of a girl) why they chose to support the Czechs- she told me the Czechs had the best beer.  And when the Czech team lost, Lindsay told me that her biggest disappointment stemmed from the fact that she had just bought her Czech-team-t-shirt, and now she couldn't wear it anymore.

We've been back to the Kelvingrove museum a couple of times more.  Barnacles still hold the title.

The other day, Ben came back to the "Sallie Ann" (as we now call the Salvation Army)  with a "scooby snack" for Janny.  The scooby snack is an edible contraption made up of layers of pancakes, sausage, bacon, more sausage, a potato pancake- and I think there's a fried egg in there somewhere- I told Janny her breakfast smelled like death.

On friday afternoons, the shelter has the "under 40's Men's Club"  during which they have a wii set up, so we all hang around and go virtual bowling.  And perhaps one of the things I have noticed the most about the guys who play- the staff and the volunteers all do the bowling gesture the way... well the way people actually bowl.  The "clients", however, whenever they chuck the imaginary bowling-ball down the alley- they look like they're punching somebody in the face with a chin-splitting upper-cut.

One of these young men has informed me that I'm officially in the "cool club" because I was willing to split a potato-chip-and-ham-sandwich with him.  Anything in the name of ministry- besides, we're already dying from the asbestos ceiling, what's a little heart disease?

Another young man and I have discovered we share a love of all things geek... specifically we have both played Fable (X-Box) for hours at a time, and we're both crazed comic-book fans.  We burned through an entire afternoon debating Dark Horse vs Marvel,  He's not too into zombie books, but I will convert him... heh heh heh.

On Fridays, there's also the women's glamour and beauty- during which Lorraine does nails and facials- however, getting the girls out of their hiding places has proven to be somewhat difficult during the days- so far we've maxed out at 2 takers in a day- that's not including myself and Janny- we get our nails done every friday- and then we are walking advertisements for Friday afternoons when we're serving meals in the evenings.

While in Iona, there was an unnatural amount of sunshine- and a very natural amount of wind- consequently we three pale-blondes quickly developed both sun-burns AND wind-burns.  By the last day there, Janny and I had begun wrapping our heads in our scarves to try and preserve our tender cheeks- we looked like terrorists.

Speaking of zombies-  Ben has proven to be quite a cook.  He baked an entire chicken a couple of weeks ago (the Sallie Ann staff said we might as well have it... it had been in their freezer for months)  He did an amazing job- right up until he started dismantling the little decimated corpse post-meal in the hopes of making soup out of the leftovers-  with his greasy fingers buried in the mutilated chicken, I told him he reminded me of a zombie, mid-carnage.  He then posed for a few zombie pictures.  "GRRRRR MORE BRAINS!"

Speaking of Iona, by the time we returned to Glasgow, we were so holiday-ed out, we decided not to go to Loch Lomond the following Saturady- instead we sat in the Sallie Ann for 2 hours and took crazy photos of ourselves with the "photo-booth" program on my Mac- laptop.  

I'm sure there will be more in the following week, but that should suffice for now. 

 

 

  

Holiday in IONA!

So, I know it's been a while since we wrote anything-  In truth, as seems to often be the case- we're so busy doing we aren't really writing.  We went to Iona this past week. an island where St Columba brought Christianity to... um whoever wanted to listen?  Actually Ben would be more apt to describe the mechanics of that history- There's a famous abbey on Iona where perhaps one of the earliest and most important Christian texts was written- the Book of Kells, which currently resides in Trinity College in Dublin.  Personal note- the tattoo on my arm is actually based on a design from the Celtic knotwork in the Book of Kells.  I was so excited to learn that this island is where my ink was originally designed- that I completely forgot to note any other historical facts regarding the place...  other than the island was regularly sacked by vikings, and it's also where the design for the traditional "Celtic Cross" was thought up- the design of the cross with the circular pattern around the center of the intersecting arms- funny thing, it was actually an accident- the stoneworkers made the arms of St. John's cross too long, and the collapsed under the weight shortly after it was erected in front of the abbey- so they added the circle to support the disproportionately long arms... anyway, one of the more enjoyable aspects of Iona was the sheep- we couldn't stop taking pictures of the sheep- following the sheep, laughing at the sheep- and this blog won't actually be a proper blog- it's actually just an appetizer- and an invitation to check out the new footage that we have on you tube of Ben- with a sheep/ram- and it's a lot more innocent than it sounds. Cheers, and I'll try to write more later tonight

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkf9ZG_lYac

Saturday night in Glasgow

Team America totally owned that dance floor!

Cheers

-Kate & Janny

we have video!

okay- the video I tried to post 2 or 3 blogs ago is up on youtube!

Here's the link:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZLi8T7DWlU

hope it works

WHAT IS THE NAME OF THAT F%$#ING PIG!?! -Kate

So, as Ben has already stated.  We did in fact go to the Kelvingrove museum, (What Ben didn't mention about the museum is the fact that we all learned entirely too much about barnacles while we were there- namely, barnacles have the largest penis-in-relation to body size... of all God's marvelous creatures!) And we did in fact go to Mosaic.  (What Ben didn't mention about Mosaic was that while we were there we met a lovely Nepalese woman who was trying to get her visa in order to go to the United States and continue her studies in biogenetics... and upon hearing this, I tried to pimp Ben out to her for the sake of procuring her a green card marriage... and take my word for it... the girl was HOT)    We are rounding out our second week here in Glasgow and the entire experience is already dripping in misadventures and shenanigans.   Here are some stories that you haven't heard yet:

Monday was technically my day off from the homeless shelter.  After we went to the museum and returned back to our illustrious digs- Ben and Janny were off to work the evening meal shift at the homeless shelter, and I was off to check my e-mail at a local bar... where I was determined (and told my companions as much) to strike up a conversation with a stranger... seeing as how we were here in Scotland to "love on" the people.  I set out at a steady clip along the same path that I travel maybe 3-4 times a day... a path that took me by a bus-stop that rarely boasts any takers.  This particular evening, however, I noted as I passed a young woman- perhaps in her early 20's, dripping off the bus bench- and I mean she was downright soggy-  so incredibly drunk she was singlehandedly fumigating the entire city block with her breath.  She slurred something at me as I walked by- and in true Denver form, I ignored her and kept walking.  The once glance that I did spare her as I marched past conveyed to me the extent of her situation- in as much as not only was she drunk, she was also sporting a shiner of epic proportions.  Her left eye was 17 shades of purple.  However, I am used to seeing people with dents in their heads- and nobody can blow off a drunk like a Denver paramedic. But about half a block away, I stopped, for a couple of reasons.  First of all, I had promised myself that I was going to step outside of myself and talk to someone tonight, furthermore, I was immediately mired in a moral dilemma of epic proportions-  the details would be laborious and verbose- suffice to say it had to do with when to embrace and when to refrain- it was very ecclesiastical (turn turn turn).  Anyway, thats how I found myself retracing my steps, plopping down on the bus bench and saying to my profoundly inebriated new friend 

"So... what happened to your eye?"  (There were probably better ways to start that conversation- but it was so RIGHT THERE I couldn't think of anything else to talk about.)

"Ach," she mumbled "Ah feel."

("Oh, I fell." for those of you not fluent in Glaswegian)

I resisted the urge to inform her that I know bull%$#t when I hear it, no matter how it's pronounced, and let that whopper slide for the moment. Namely because she was off and talking- and I didn't understand another thing she said.

A few people passed us- mostly men on their way to the shelter for the evening meal, and my companion hollered greetings at a few of them.  Who noted my presence with some curiosity and distrust- since we had only worked maybe one meal shift at the shelter thus far- they didn't recognize me.

I didn't really know what to do.  She seemed content to sit there until judgement day.  I watched the traffic whizzing by us with some dismay- worrying that if I left her alone she might stumble into traffic or get assaulted by any number of people who would have access to her in this public place.  3 people were murdered in Glasgow over the weekend, 2 of them solo women.  If we had been in my town, she would have gone to detox and I would have been checking my email by now.

"So...," I said, "Are you hungry? Do you need something to eat?"  figuring I might as well get her off the street and take her by the mission where she could get something in her stomach. 

"Oh, aye."

We stood, and she had to grab my shirt and yank me away from the curb, as I had made the classic american mistake and looked left instead of right for oncoming traffic.  I paused to consider the irony of that moment, and we were off.  Enroute, we paused so she could water the pavement while I kept watch for potential trouble, and then she tucked her arm into mine as though the yellow-brick-road guided us to our destination.  Passersby eyed us warily, the weight of their assumptions crashing into us as they took in her blackened eye, obvious intoxication, and our combined shabby clothes. I felt my indignation twist my mouth into a sneer, and I silently dared anyone to say anything to us.  She eyed the strangers with the same expression and summarily dismissed every disdainful look with

"F&%k 'em"

Once we arrived at the shelter, we found the doors locked- since no one was expecting me to show, and the workers always lock the doors while they're preparing the meal.  So the two of us ended up posted up on the pavement by the door, and it was my turn to feel unwanted and out of place as the crowds of homeless and "undesireables" gathered.  They eyed me with more questions and even some hostility- wondering where their friend had picked me up and what my angle was.  I wanted to explain something- say something- but I realized there was nothing I could say that would be right... that wouldn't insult.  So I sat with her, on the chilled concrete, and waited for the doors to open.

After I had deposited my company at the shelter (who it turns out, was a well-known frequenter of the place) I headed out again to check my email.  And ended up the quite unintentioned team member of a bar-trivia team.  I was just sitting there, minding my own business and a trivia game broke out.  The couple sitting next to me introduced themselves, and the next thing you know we were agonizing over obscure british pop-bands and movies from 1984, all in the hipes of winning 25 pounds (about 50$)  We were fairly confident in our superiority- and certain we were going to win, until the last question of the 3rd round: What was Miss Piggy's last name?  

"!?!?!?!?!" said everyone in the entire bar.

We all turned blank faces towards each other, since when did Miss Piggy have a last name?  Isn't it "Piggy"?

Being the overly competitive american that I am, I kept trying to surreptitiously crack my lap-top open and wikipedia my way into fame and fortune- but the next table- a couple of elderly, drunken Australian ladies- kept glancing our direction as though they were on to me.  Finally, one of them laughingly stumbled over to us, leaned over and hollered a phrase that will haunt me for the rest of my life...

Now, anytime I am stymied and cannot think of any answer to any question asked of me, I will forever be harkened back to that evening, in that bar, as an international crowd of strangers transcended cultural prejudice and animosity- banged our heads against a universal wall and yelled at one another:

"WHAT IS THE NAME OF THAT F(&^$ING PIG?!?!"  

Quick Catch-up...

So much to catch up on:
Thursday we took the day off to settle in our new digs. Headed over to the Gallery of Modern Art and had a dinner of delicious Indian food. Kate & Janny decided to get some female bonding time in, so I wandered the streets until I found free wifi at a pub called ‘The Butterfly & the Pig’ which we’ve been back to a few times. Around 10:30pm, I wandered up to the where the Salt & Light bus usually parked. The bus wasn’t there, but the volunteers and homeless were (I guess the driver forgot that it was his week...) so I chatted with them a bit and saw a few of the homeless folk I’d met last year. It was good to see them. It looks like we may not be stopping by Salt & Light until our final Thursday as this week is Stuart Gilmour’s band’s show and next week we’ll be getting back from our holiday in Iona.

Friday, we wrapped up painting in the afternoon and were able to put in our first ‘official’ shift at City Mission. Tommy is an old Glaswegian who now has three new friends from Colorado and is astonished by that fact. When he smiles, his mouth and most of his nose disappears behind his snow white beard. He’s the sweetest old Scot I’ve found yet. And, of course, I can pick up about every 3rd word he says.

We tried to help clean the headquarters of the Friends of the River Kelvin on Saturday, but by the time we arrived (we got a bit lost on the way) they’d finished up and left. It was right by Glasgow’s Botanic Gardens so we spent an amazingly beautiful day for Scotland enjoying the day and traipsing through various wonderful folliage. Kate actually got a sunburn in Scotland!

Mosaic Church in Partick was Sunday afternoon and it was phenominal! The 1st Sunday is their Corinthians gathering where they open it up for anyone in the congregation to give a word, ask for prayer, sing a song, etc. It was good to hear the things that God is doing in their community. And so good for me to be back in their community! Seeing and chatting with people I’d become friends with last year and hadn’t seen or talked to in a year was such a gift. And hugs! I recieved 4 hugs within the first few minutes which doubled my Scottish hugs up to that point. I’m looking forward to work alongside them in cleaning the Kelvin this Saturday and on spending more time with them on Sunday afternoon. Wes White who’s one of the pastors there had just gotten back from Africa (where he happened to be at the same conference as my sister ‘cause God is that hilarious) and spoke to us of seeing the cost in lives of the 1994 conflict in Rwanda which stirred some good conversation between the 3 of us upon our return to the Salvation Army (or the Sally as I like to call it).

As City Mission has staff meeting on Monday, we headed over to Kelvingrove Art Gallery & Museum for an amazing day of learning more about Scotland and life and art and the world. It’s seriously like no museum I’ve ever been in. So unique! That night, Janny & I worked the Mission while Kate made friends with some folk at the Butterfly & the Pig during trivia night, becoming the team: Deep-fried Foreigners (they were from about 30 minutes outside of Glasgow).

Tuesday, Janny went yarn hunting while Kate & I helped out with the I.T. class which mostly consisted of homeless people surfing the internet while I tried desparately to figure out how to connect computers to the printer and download music on to one man’s mp3-playing phone. (How a homeless man has an mp3-playing phone, I’m not sure... but welcome to Glasgow!) Kate stuck around the Mission to help out that night while I went and had tea with Stuart Gilmour. It was so good to see him again and catch up on his life and what’s been happening with Void Avoidance. We’re looking forward to seeing his band, Rodent Emporium, play this Thursday night. After chatting with Stuart for a bit, Janny & I made dinner of macaroni & cheese with hot dogs. She & Kate’s came form a box much like those in the States. Mine came from a can and tasted vaguely like something reminscent of mac & cheese. The hot dogs also came out of a can and tasted more normal than the canned mac & cheese, but still a bit odd. Oh yeah, they were soaked in brine. Yum!

blood and fire... and avacados! -kate

Today is the 4th day in Glasgow, which is great because its no longer the 3rd day.  

Don't get me wrong, the whole Scotland thing is cool, we're happy to be here... we're getting along well... we're well fed- if nothing else, we're definitely well fed.  Yesterday was our first day at the mission, and everytime we met someone new- or a different character walked into the room- the first thing they asked us was:

"Have you eaten?  Do you want something to eat?"

I guess I understand the sentiment. When I was a little girl I kept aquariums, and since fish aren't overly communicative, I would feed them often- just to reassure myself that they were feeling okay... okay enough to eat at least.  So I surmise the constant offers of tea, sandwiches, biscuits, soup, chocolate bars... was more a status check than anything.  Of course I could be wrong.  Since it is a mission, they receive a lot of food donations that are just on the edge of expiration.  Could be they were just trying to get rid of it all. 

So day 3 began with the 3 of us having to pack up our belongings and leave our hostel accomodations.  We were being moved to our permanent residence in Glasgow: the Salvation Army Church offices. The mission very kindly put us up in the hostel for 2 nights in order to make the jet-lag and transition a little more palateable.  Problem is, any attempts made by Ben to try to hammer down the living situation at the SAC was met with ambiguous equivocations- there might be beds, there might be bedding, there might be a shower, there might be electricity... and when we were picked up from the hostel, none of these questions were answered.  We didn't go to the SAC, we were taken to the mission where we were met with our special chore for the day.

First we locked all of our luggage into a storage closet and helped with a lunch meal that was served to the older men who frequent the shelter.  We met a wide array of characters who volunteer at the shelter,  but none of the actual people who come there.  Instead, we herded into a back room in the shelter that needed to be repainted.  Thing is, Ewan, the director of the mission, hadn't actually mixed the paint yet- turns out he had about 5 different colors of paint- none of which were the correct color, and he decided prior to our arrival that what he should do was mix all the insufficient colors into a huge bin- and the combination of so many negatives would form a positive, i.e. whatever color they all made together was the color we were painting the walls.

What we ended up with was something that I suppose could be considered a soon-to-be-rotten-avacado shade.  

And as we cinched up our belts to get to the painting, we discovered that the closet which contained our luggage( and consequently, our paint clothes) had not only locked, but no one knew which key would open it.  So the next step in this hap-hazard little parade wa sfor us to get paint clothes out of the mission's used clothing donations.  I ended up in a jumpsuit.   Janny and I started painting while Ben left with Ewan to figure out housing.  5 or 6 hours later ( Ben had returned and helped us for about 4 hours) The job was almost done.  Roughly every 20 minutes, however, someone from the mission would wander in and make some comment about the truly horrific color:

"Oi, thass the oogliest thang oi've evharrr sien!"

translation:  Wow, that's the ugliest thing I've ever seen!"

Arguably, they could have been talking about me in the jumpsuit- but they were looking at the walls when they said it.  

Perhaps the comments got to Ewan.  For the first few hours he would come in and proclaim that the color was perfect and we were doing a magnificent job.  But later he walked in with a brand new can of white paint, and proclaimed that what the color REALLY needed was to be lighter.  So he dumped the white paint into the bin of avacado, mixed it up- and we started over... with a color that now could feasibly be called olive. 

This was the point where I think we hit the wall, literally.  I sat down on the floor and started repeating over and over in a rain-man fashion "I can't believe we're painting it all over again- I can't believe we're starting over."  And fortunately, Ben who is getting in touch with his problem solving skills having to deal with both me and Janny, suggested I start on the other half of the room, which was going to be painted a flat white.  He speculated, not incorrectly, that the color was starting to affect me in a truly detrimental manner, and a change of scenery might help.  I, with much relief and weariness, set to work on the mercifully white wall and we all lumbered along in silence for another couple of hours.  Whereupon Ewan appeared again and suggested we join the volunteers for prayer and worship before the shelter patrons arrived for the evening meal.  And though none of us was feeling particularly worshipful, we set our brushes down and ambled obediently after Ewan.  Here I should note that Sucm of the Earth attendees have what can only be described as an aversion to your typical contemporary Christian worship music... more accurately, we despise the stuff.  And as the sheets of words were passed out, Janny and I clung to each other for comfort, fearing that we would have to participate in a lilting Scottish rendition of "Our God is an Awesome God".  I leaned over to her and said, "Do you think they'd be pissed if we requested "Living on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi?"

The worship was a blessedly brief 2 songs and we were released to continue with our painting-  which we did for about another 3 hours, at which point Ewan reappeared and stated that he had a group of Y-WAMmers (Youth With A Mission- a BIG missionary organization for young people- I think it's international now) who were going to take over the white walls for us for a bit.  The kiddos attacked that side of the room with enthusiasm only 15-year-old pentecostals can muster.  And the 3 of us could only manage mild civility towards them... as the girls kept talking about this epic Averil Levigne concert they went to and one of them insisted on singing everything in the style of piano-crawling lounge music.  In short, we wanted to eat them for dinner.  Especially when we saw their work was not only covering the walls with white paint, but also the floor, the cabinets, and any other surface they came close to.  

It was close to midnight when Ewan finally decided to shut down for the night-  Janny and I had been painting since approx 11am. 

At first there was something of a mess as Ewan had to find the right key that would gain us access to the cabinet and consequently, our clothing.  Then we all piled into a cab, exhausted, jet-lagged, and covered in green and white paint, at which point we were delivered to the Salvation Army auditorium.  We walked inside, and instantly understood why the description of our home had been so... shady.  Put simply, there was no describing it.  Upon our first steps inside, we were assaulted by a sickly sweet and strangely familiar odor, it took me a minute to place it, but when I did, it was undeniable- the place smelled like urinal cakes. We walked down a short, dark hallway and found ourselves in a massive, musty auditorium, the kind that your grandparents take ball-room dancing lessons in.  We trucked up two flights of stairs with all of our luggage in tow- along with a wad of sleeping bags that were going to serve as our temporary bedding until sheets and blankets could be bought the next day.  The journey down the long, crumbling hallways was aided by the scattered flickering light here and there as we flipped switches.  And we finally arrived in the room that would be delegated our bed-room.  There were two, small twin mattresses laying on the floor, next to two drawers which had been placed on the floor- no, not a chest of drawers, or a nightstand- two empty drawers.  There were a couple of tattered couch cushions next to each naked mattress, and a single bulb lamp sitting on the floor, which offered the only illumination to be had in the room, since the overhead light was incommunicado.  However, when we looked up at it to see if it was even glowing just a little bit... we noticed that the ceiling had a bright yellow sticker on it-  much like biohazard tape I've used in the course of my employment-  the sticker read in large, black letters "WARNING: ASBESTOS!"  We trolled the other rooms to see if any better options presented themselves, what we discovered was no shower, no running water upstairs, and an array of rooms, packed with abandoned objects- a couple of disintegrating speakers here, a tangle of sticky children's toys there, furniture missing legs and arm rests, a file cabinet- and as I walked, I realized that the erie familiarity I was sensing... it wasnt my imagination... this building, and the long, dark hallways, the random assortment of decrepit objects... resembled every first-person zombie video game I had ever seen.  We ended the tour of our new home in a grimy cafeteria style kitchen.  A small brigade of ants ran for cover off the countertop when we flicked the lights on- and the conversation that took place at that point cannot be repeated.  Suffice to say that at first, my initial impulse was to check my account balance at home- and book all of us a suite at the Marriot with a full mini-bar... rather than sleep in this post-apocalyptic crypt.  However, even as I said it, I knew that abandoning ship was not an option.  And thankfully, Janny, in a valiant effort to raise our spirits, suggested we wrestle a couple of toddler-size bikes out of their upstairs resting place and ride around the auditorium for a bit to lighten our mood.  We seized upon this idea and scampered to make it happen... and so that's how Janny and I came to be riding around the auditorium, Barnum and Bailey style, on tiny bicycles while Ben chased after us with the camera- to add to the ridicularity of the moment- I found an impossibly thick pair of old-lady glasses on the old upright piano, and our next source of amusement was to take turns wearing them while attempting to stay upright on a bicycle.  After hitting the floor a few times, we noted that hanging against the back wall of the stage, was the Salvation Army crest and motto "Blood and Fire" which we though sounded like a tour name for a rock band.

We've grown as accustomed to our lodgings as we can since that first night- which was difficult... I recall asking Ben where Ewan procured the sleeping bags we were going to be sleeping in, (this seemed like a legitimate question, since Ewan runs a homeless shelter and sleeping bags come and go frequently)  Ben simply giggled and stated in a maniacle voice that he had no idea as to the origin or history of our sleeping bags.  Later on that night, after all three of us had sedated ourselves into sleepiness with Benedryl, I awoke to a strange lumpy feeling at my feet.  I reached down and realized that in the bottom of my sleeping bag, was a couple of wadded up socks- neither of which were mine.  Fortunately I had combined my Benedryl with a dose of Trazadone that I procured from a friend a couple of weeks ago.  So I didn't have the presence of mind to be truly disgusted... or even bothered.  

The next day, Ben went an got us some blankets, sheets and pillows- he was careful to keep all the wrapping so we could verify the pedigree of our bedding.  And since then, we have had a couple of non-sequiters regarding our home-  For example, last night we arrived home to find a whole slew of Africans posted up outside our domicile.  They told us that once a month, they have a vigil in the hall from 10pm to 3 am.  We told them we couldn't, in good conscience, let them in since we hadn't been told anything about a vigil.  Furthermore, we were there on someone else's charity and didn't want to risk our home by taking their word for it.  They seemed to understand, and we didn't think anything more of it- until about an hour later, when they apparently managed to get a hold of the powers that be- who in turn, let them in.  Because just as the 3 of us were preparing to go to sleep, the microphone cranked on, and we were subjected to a high-volume, high-energy, pentecostal worship service that ripped through the thin walls of the SAC and rattled us to our bones.  Seriously, it sounded like they were performing a live action rendition of The Lion King.  Out came the Benedryl again, and as I fell into a medication induced stupor, with the tune of "Old Rugged Cross" enthusiastically sung in Swahili,  I comforted myself with the thought that at least the zombies would likely find them first.

Scotland, day 1... jet lag.

Easier to show you than tell you, we're trying to load video of us desperately trying to stay awake- it's not working so far... If we can't load it on here, we'll figure out something on youtube. 

solving for the unknown variables -Kate

We left for Scotland the morning of May 25th.  A trip that I think we started planning for in December- if you cane believe that  I think all 3 of us agreed - or at least Janny and I agreed-  that up until the last couple of hours... the Scotland trip had seemed like something of an otherworldly destination- like heaven- somewhere we're going to go eventually... but not any time soon and it only has minimal impact on life here and now.  When it finally did come time to leave- the actual act of departing was more the matter of the moment- the packing, the driving to the airport, the feeding and watering of a life that was going to be held in stasis during our absence.  As I sit on the airplane that swings us into Philadelphia, suddenly I realize that I will be living in a different country for a month- and these tasks of getting onto an airplane, taxi-ing around the runway- take-off, landing etc etc- are not going to culminate in me returning home and sleeping in my own bed at the end of the day.  I know it sounds silly- but I was so lost in the process of leaving for Scotland- I completely forgot that I was actually going there.

Even saying goodbye to the exquisite Chris felt vaguely unreal- so much so that I'm more than a little upset at the detachment I'm sure I displayed throughout the parting- I spent the first couple of hours at DIA wishing I could rewind and take another stab at it.  I was still physically in Denver, but I have no idea where I spent the morning

Fran, who drove Ben to the airport, was our final contact with home as she stood in line with us, dotingly watching us check our bags and receive our tickets.  As she turned and walked away, leaving the three of us to face airport security, the reality of our journey began to dawn on me.  I turned to the others and remarked

"Does anyone else feel kind of panicky about being abandoned by our adult supervision?"

Seriously, it felt like the first day of kindergarten... which makes absolutely no sense.  I've travelled plenty before. Normally alone- I'm very much in the habit of calling my own shots and I'm comfortable with landing in a foreign country (where I don't even speak the language) and procuring maps, lodgings and usually a dinner date within the first two hours.  However, the helplessness I felt as Fran departed was a curious and utterly unfamiliar sensation to me.  And realistically, as I sit here, on a woefully delayed flight to Phillidelphia, I think perhaps that my discomfort stems from the complete lack of control which makes this trip so different from any other I've taken.  The whole thing- scheduling, lodging, food, activities- has been planned by someone else.   Good old Ben has completely taken the wheel on this venture- and ...well gosh... how much do I really KNOW about the guy?  I mean sure I have been acquainted with Ben for years but- holy crap- I just placed a month of my life in his celtic-ringed little fingers and said:  "Whatever man, I'm in."

Would this be a bad time for me to point out that the diabetic Ben admitted to me and Janny, before we could even finish our team-inaugural cup of coffee, that he forgot to pack his glucometer?

Furthermore- the fact is... I'm not good at sharing.  I spend a great deal of time either alone or profoundly emotionally insulated from the people I encounter from day to day- and my one-person-universe is comfortable, I like it there.  I frequently know what to expect from me, and if I'm behaving badly, so what?  No one else has to see it, deal with it, endure it.  I've decorated all the walls of my internal living room with all my favorite pictures of me, and I only look in a mirror when I want to.  I have become very good at living alone- I'm good at entertaining and then kicking people out when I've had my fill of interaction, or when I feel they've had their fill of me.  Sitting at DIA, staring at Ben and Janny as we sucked down our coffee and devoured our over-priced airport breakfast ($3.50 for a pretzel? Seriously?)  I realized that I was sitting across from two unknown variables- a pair of wild-cards who I couldn't govern or relegate,  I might as call them X and Y... and I was always terrible at algebra.

The next thing I knew, the 3 of us were walking toward the inter-concourse train, and out of sheer nerves- I started singing...

"Some times I feel I've got to BUM BUM run away... I've got to BUM BUM get away from the pain you drive into the heart of me... "

And out of nowhere, Ben joined in:

"... the love we share, seems to go nowhere,"

Then Janny picked up the chorus

"TAINTED LOVE.... TAINTED LOVE... don't touch me PLEASE I cannot stand the way you TEASE!  I love you though you hurt me so, now it's time I pack my THINGS AND GO!"

 

leaving denver

i should be in bed. fran's coming to take me to the airport here in about 7 hours. i need to pack the toiletries i picked up today. i want to put together the perfect playlist for my ipod for the flight to glasgow, but i don't know if i have the energy.

janny, kate & i met to do last minute check-ins. it was good. but i think all of us are exhausted and overwhelmed. and from what i've heard from those we'll be helping out, there is much to do. i'm excited! i get to see dear friends i haven't seen in a year and help them love the people God's called them to. kate & janny don't know these people so i think it's harder for them to be excited. but they know that God has called them to this. we all know that God has called us to this. 'cause He's provided miraculously. 23:59-ly. housing less than a week before we leave. the money working out so we can do everything we want to. so totally God!

throughout this whole process, i was questioning whether God wanted us in glasgow and wondering at how in the world He was gonna pull through. and He does. and He did. 'cause tomorrow morning at 10:48am, we board a plane to glasgow! okay the first one's the philly & the one after that's to glasgow, but you understand :).

pray for us. pray for energy. for rest. for love. right now feels surreal, i fear the next three days will only make it moreso.

and the journey begins. holding tightly to Dad's hand...

We have lodging!

Friends

We have lodging! I phoned Ewan Clydesdale at Glasgow City Mission yesterday and he said that his boss, Andrew, had spoken with the Salvation Army there and has obtained lodging for us a few blocks from City Mission! God is amazing! Thank you so much for your prayers, support and help! So many of you jumped right to it, emailing friends and family about our situation. I don't know if I've ever felt more loved. Thank you so much.

So. We leave at 10:45am on THIS Sunday. I tried to find the exact place we'll be staying (Ewan didn't give me an address & there's about 20 hits when you type 'Salvation Army' into maps google for Glasgow, Scotlan :) and as I looked over the streetnames, I got so excited thinking that I'll soon be seeing them again. Ah! God is so good!

Sunday night at Scum, Josh Cook gave a comissioning prayer for the 3 of us leaving. Janny, Kate & I went up on stage and Josh asked anyone who had a connection to any of us to join us on stage for the prayer. By the time the dust settled, at least half the congregation was on stage with us. And the weird thing was that they were never clumped around us, they were behind us. I'm starting to cry just thinking about it...

God and I have been having some pretty intense conversations lately and He shows me things in weird ways and this was no exception. I do believe it: Scum of the Earth Church (and all of you) are behind us. Yes, physically, we're taking 3 people to Glasgow. But because God's God, we're also taking every single one of the people on that stage... plus all of you.

There's a scene in the new Caspian movie (go see it if you haven't: amazing!) where Lucy mounts a bridge to stand against a retreating army of Telemarines. She calmly draws her dagger and continues to step forward slowly & with confidence. You _know_ that Aslan is beside her, but you don't see him. The movie uses it as a kind of joke 'cause they have it look like the Telemarine soldiers are running from a little girl. Me? I was freaking out, "Come on! Where's Aslan? I know He's there!" I think that's what I've been doing this whole preparation procress: instead of being like Lucy knowing that Aslan's right beside her, I've doubted. At least on the inside.

Faith was easy when this trip was far away, but when it came down to a few weeks ago and we still didn't know where we'd be staying, I started freaking out.

It speaks of more of God's goodness and faithfulness than my spiritual maturity that most of what I did was run to Him. We had some knockdown drag-out wrestling matches over these last few months and I've the scars to prove it. And even in my failings, even in my doubts, God showed His love for me. He showed me, one more time, His faithfulness.

And so, I get to go to Scotland again. And I get to take Kate and Janny with me. And I get to see some of the people He dearly loves and love on them.

Thank you for being a part of this...

...ben

First 'blog

Friends,

Here is the Scum of the Earth Scotland '08 team: Mary Kate Makkai, Ben Mercer, & Janny Siebert.

We leave in less than 2 weeks and we still need a place to live. We're working on it. We'd like more money than we currently have in, but we believe that God will provide as He already has and if it's not enough for us to live comfortably for the month, it will be enough to live on. 'Cause He's God and He loves us and provides what we need, not always what we want :). Like our friend, Dan Craig, sings: we're worth much more than many sparrows... (yeah, Dan's quoting Jesus there 'cause Jesus is a good guy to quote...)

We could use more money if you'd like to send some. But what we really need is prayer. Prayer for God's provision & guidance more than anything. It's kinda of a scary thing going to a foreign country to love on people 'cause God told you to. 'Cause you don't always know what that looks like and how it's gonna be accepted. But He told us to go, so we're going. And prayer for love: that we would begin to understand and see God's love for us 'cause it's only through God's love that we're able to love others. And the more that we understand & see it in and for ourselves, the more we'll be able to pass it on to others. And that's what this whole trip is about: loving people. Loving the other 2 of us on the team, loving the people we'll be ministering to, loving the people we'll be ministering alongside. A good friend said that what God's calling us to do under, above, and around everything else is to love the person (or people) God's put right in front of you. And we feel He's put the people of Glasgow, Scotland in front of us. So it our job to love them. So if you could pray for us in that, it'd be a huge thing.

So yeah, that's a bit of where things are right now. Kate's selling a book of her poetry for $10 to raise money for this trip if you'd be interested in purchasing one. If you want to be a part of the Scum in Scotland '08 prayer team, please respond to this post and let us know.

Thanks for reading!