I had an interesting night because I didn’t have an interesting night. Honestly I must say I was bored to tears at church. That sounds bad and it was not bad but just not what I was up for. Very small service—reminded me of a Sunday night at Tyler Metro. Worship was awesome. I think because they are so House of Prayer related that they tend to do what we would label “worship” songs without all the “praise” songs (not that WORSHIP is a slow song, but it helps people relate when I describe it). Anyway, there is a song I heard for the second time tonight that I am buying as fast as I can get my hands on it. Tonight I danced to it—not majorly since I am still assimilating in this new place but it was made to be danced to and I can’t keep still. It is by Tim Hughes—the guy who wrote almost everyone’s current favorite "Here I Am to Worship.” This is called “Beautiful One” and it is truly an awesome song that makes you love Jesus deeper. It was worth going tonight just to hear that again and get it in me. Of course it is from England and not even on Kazaa. (FYI, I do not pirate music because I believe it is wrong but I am purchasing it—but it didn’t matter because it is not available!!!) I can’t even find it on the major music websites, but I have found it. I am trying to order from the one that ships quickest! I could take a chance that the church will have it in stock since they sing it, but if I wait and then they don’t, I will be waiting longer. So I decided to order. I found it cheap online, even with shipping it costs what a CD in a store costs—and there is no tax. I will own this awesome song. I will dance and dance and dance. I can quote the lyrics here because they are nice, but trust me when I say that this is true music, that the musical composition coupled with the lyrics is what makes it an awesome entrance into the presence of God. The crescendo from verse to chorus is the most amazing part of all. WOW!

Beautiful One
Lyrics and Music by Tim Hughes

Beautiful One
Tim Hughes

Wonderful, so wonderful
Is Your unfailing love,
Your cross has spoken mercy over me
No eye has seen, no ear has heard
No heart could fully know,
How glorious, how beautiful you are

Beautiful One, I love You
Beautiful One, I adore
Beautiful One my soul must sing

Powerful, so powerful
Your glory fills the skies
Your mighty works displayed for all to see
The beauty of your majesty
Awakes my heart to sing;
How marvelous, How wonderful you are

You've opened my eyes to your wonders anew
You captured my heart with this love
'Cause nothing on earth is as beautiful as you

My soul, my soul must sing
My soul, my soul must sing
My soul, my soul must sing
Beautiful One

I wish I could play it in here. Wow! Anyway, it is in the mail. What do you want to bet it will stay in my car endlessly? When I went to the House of Prayer in Kansas City in November and got the Dance in the Glory CD I scarcely played another CD for MONTHS. On my Christmas road trip I played a few others but mostly I had that in, day after day through the new year.

I think that song really impacted me tonight. We sang a few more. We sang a LOT. More men that women were dancing. As dancers they looked so awkward and fumbling—but that made it all the more beautiful. When you see men dancing in a church you know something is right. My church is the same way. My pastor is front and center dancing. Pride is the enemy of dancing and most men won’t—but it is awesome. I love to watch them. Last night I watched a lady dance who was so beautiful. She stood alone in the back. I suspected that was because she was very large and did not want to be down front. In the front were some skinny young girls who obviously were anointed. But once I saw the large lady, they paled in comparison. I think that is just like God. There are some physically beautiful dancers who are very anointed (Shelly comes to mind) but more commonly I see the most anointed dancers are the ones the world would laugh at. God uses the foolish things of the world to confound the wise. I will tell you something: If I ever were to get married, I would not marry someone who would not dance—because again, it is not about the ACT of dancing. It is like that quotation I sent Darrell months ago:

"Never trust a spiritual leader who cannot dance!"
-- Mr. Miyagi, The Next Karate Kid

Anyway, I left early. Cheryl and the others were not there again, but that is fine. I will begin early prayer at some point this week and will either go Friday or something to late prayer at night. It will all come together. I went to Wal Mart to return my pants. I picked up the wrong size because I read the label wrong (duh, English teacher!) It was crazier than Texas right before back-to-school. But here there is nothing else as cheap and no WM for miles. Who can blame them? They did not have the same pants in my size, but I found two other pairs and a shirt. Susan bought clothes! I NEVER shop. I buy t-shirts and bags on ministry trips and that is about it. I use all my money for travel.

By the time I was driving home I was downright happy. This surprised me because even despite the great things happening now I am still having a few problems and the fact is, I have potential for friends, but no one I am close to who is Christian I can spend time with. So there is a distance in me that keeps a wall up, a sadness that won’t completely penetrate, even though I know it will ultimately be okay. But I was joyful as I drove home. And I also realized it is ironic that I love LA at night as I do. The earthquake struck in total darkness. Before the Northridge quake I loved nighttime and indoors. After the quake I began to hate darkness and I loved being outdoors (safer in a quake). I STILL like the outdoors! That changed me forever. But I like night also, now. So it is very interesting to me that being back here I like the night more than the day. I love the city lights and cool breezes and almost restful feelings in the atmosphere after the chaos of the day.

With that I shall retire into the night.

Happy birthday, Bobbin!

This was only my second Sunday at my new church. In fact, I have been to the church across town more! Anyway, it was good. I admit that I am still a bit out of it here. I don’t have a place. I will have one but thus far I am the new kid on the block and I HATE IT. It makes me worry about everything. I have obviously experienced way too much dance trauma because I am actually fearful at times when I dance. Today was GREAT as far as worship goes. I was okay with the tambourine. In fact that part was the BEST and broke me though—which of course is one major spiritual quality of the tambourine, that it brings breakthrough. Patterns came to me and I was playing the real stuff—nothing fancy but definitely playing, I have been afraid to even try but today’s music was right for it. Some songs easily lend themselves to the tambourine. But then I got more trepidatious. I had only brought two flags, one streamer and the tambourine today. I did not even load up my bag. They don’t want my streamers yet, so no one but me uses them. Anyway, the next song needed flags. I picked up two and played them together—which I never do. But I could really feel it—I was actually even doing some stuff I learned months ago—it fit. And the next song needed a streamer—fortunately I had brought a smaller one. I was right on with the tools I brought—the exact streamer and flags I needed, but oh-how-I-worried. Pastor Darrell was right next to me. I did not plan that. The problem is the fact that I switch tools and usually do the streamer to the side but the tambourine in the center. If it were not so crowded this would not be an issue. All I could think when I opened my eyes and looked was “am I going to get a lecture about how I could almost hit someone with my streamer? Maybe I should offer to stand in back.” And actually I probably will do that. There sure is more room back there. Anyone who knows me knows I like it better away from scrutiny anyway. No, there has never been ONE word every uttered about dancing other than to say we are free. In fact Wednesday night PD said “you will never hear from this pastor that you need to calm down or stop dancing or whatever.” He said this to everyone in context of what he was talking about, but I still worried. There is more to this worry, but I know much of it is the years I struggled for total freedom. Anyway, since no one attacked me, yes, worship was nice. I needed it. I needed more actually I need to play and dance and move everywhere.

I decided also that I have to just be who I am right now, even if it doesn’t look as perfect as I would like. For instance, I do not like talking to strangers so in the meeting time at church I do not wander around like everyone else. I realize some people could perceive that as I don’t want to be involved, but I have decided that is their problems if they do. I am going to do what I want and what is me as long as God is not telling me something otherwise (there was a lady today I felt I was supposed to talk to, for example, but I don’t do the social butterfly thing until after I know people). Will it cause some people to have a wrong impression? Maybe. But I am sick of worrying about it. I will dance as free as I am led every time I am in church. If something happens, then I will deal with it then. Scared or not, I move. I am so used to dance attacks that it is not even funny. I mean, people would be surprised if they knew some of the things I had gone though relating to dance—especailly 3-4 years ago when it was new. But that also makes me extraordinarily sensitive to it. I have not paid a heavy price like Aunty Magrate, but I have paid a little teeny bit, and I will protect it with my life as long as it is an anointing God seems to have put in me—which I still don’t understand. Even this morning I knew a God Thing was happening but I couldn’t imagine, why me? Makes no sense. And yes, it is hard. Dance must be one of the hardest things I have ever done The strain on your physical body only parallels the strain on your spirit as people play tug of war with you. I thought today of Aunty. How amazing that she has persevered through 20 plus years, I think it is. She could probably be a millionaire from plagiarism lawsuits alone. Not to mention the amount of meony her skill and tarining could command, but she chooses to focus not on that but on God. And yet people still regard her as less than because they don’t like the skill, the effort and the discipline. They want some mamsy pamsy approach to dancing and think she is too tough. As Robin has pointed out to me many times, she has paid the price. There is no one I would rather sit under in this ministry. No she is not perfect—every leader has faults, but her heart is about as right as it gets and give me that any day of the week.

I am telling you there is nothing like spending years with a ministry like that and then being separated that will make you honor it more than ever. I wish people knew. But you know what? The ones who will fight for it know. Vickie will know. Maria will know. People like that will know and overcome. And maybe one day the worship dance world will realize that the price is the cost of the anointing. I see that in Aunty. What a powerful anointing. I cannot imagine paying the price she has, but starting Tuesday I am on a deeper track anyway. I have to do what I can.

You can tell this is really on my heart now. It really started hitting about the first Saturday morning I could not just drive two hours to Shachah—and when I really began to see the impact—and also to see that I live in the second largest city in the nation and can’t find a worship dance class. I sure don’t mind teaching but certainly there are more qualified than I am. But you know, in myself I could offer little but I have been trained so well. This year will be the first women’s conference since 2000 I have not been to at CFNI. THAT is hard. I will not be dancing with them. I need to be very busy those nights so I don’t think about it!

People think I teach dance here. It is really funny. If they only knew. I think I am starting to get it though—it is starting to happen that I can dance and flow and have it work. I wonder what my ballet classes will be like. I decided today to sign up for the other one. If this one doesn’t work out and I don’t have another I will be in the dark. I must have enough dance that I don’t long for it and ache. But the fact is, until there are some true dance classes that are for worship in my life, I will ache.

I am going to church tonight here in town. I don’t know what their services are like, but I am off in a couple hours. I am looking forward to it, yet I am very overwhelmed by how I am ever going to fit in all I have planned. Here is a sample rundown of what it appear might be my average schedule:

Mondays: Work 7:45-3:20 Nights open or tambourine in Ventura from time to time or prayer from 8-10 p.m. and/or antiphonal singing (House of Prayer)

Tuesdays: Work 7:45-3:20 Immediately to ballet class at college after work, one hour or so break to ballet at regional ballet.

Wednesdays: Work 7:45-3:20 church 6:30-9:30

Thursdays: Work 7:45-3:20 to ballet again til 6 or so (then open)

Fridays: Work 7:45-3:20 open or prayer from 8-10

Saturdays: possibly sleep (but not always i.e. this week Bible study at 9!) laundry, cleaning, shopping—possibly prayer center stuff at night.

Sundays: My church from 9 –2, eat, other church from 6-?

Of course from time to time that will deviate--I randomly take nights off or afternoons off or whatever. But that is the master idea. Don’t be fooled by the “open” times. Those are my only times to have a life! For instance, this Friday I am driving to Orange County to have dinner with David. I will leave right after work and get home at bedtime. Then I have to get up at 7 Saturdays. So yeah, overwhelmed is a good word, but I have to have dance and prayer and that is the bulk of it. Church and work or the only things I could cut out. Sometimes I think I would be better off dancing and praying without church—and I love my church! Just my feeling on American Christianity—after all we respect the men more than the Lord (see previous entries).

For all the great restaurants here, do you know I could not find a fast food Italian place anywhere between North Hollywood and Pasadena? I drove by one that might have been but missed it, but there is nothing like Fazolis that I have found yet. So I am on the hunt. My first couple weeks here I inhaled Middle Eastern food after East Texas Deprivation for 9 ½ years. Then I continue to alternate between Panda Express and Baja Fresh (or Rubios)—and then today my Italian appetite returned. I ended up settling at a Trader Joe’s in Eagle Rock and buying a frozen gourmet (is that an oxymoron?!) dish for later and a noodle salad and these funky Middle Easter pizzas (that are more like a spicy thin crust) for lunch. I was disappointed. I LOVE to go out to eats after church, but there was no one to go with. But no one ever asked me along in Tyler either with the exception o f a short sons with Beverly and another brief one a year before for a bout a month, so it is nothing new, but I am ready to enjoy after church dinners with people.

Anyway, I need to get in gear and do real stuff. God is speaking to me about some things and that is going to mean some changes. It won’t really be anything anyone else will see—just me and God. God and I discuss a lot of things no one ever knows about, but ten they will talk to me like I should have thought about this or that. Give me a break! I am a pretty solid believer… does anyone really think I can be a strong Christian and not operate in truth with God, even if I don’t share it with anyone else? I see a lot more than I let on.

The inward eye is a powerful thing.

As a California resident of good upstanding moral character and love for God and country, as well as a recent citizen of the United States and registered voter, I would like to make a note to all my California readers:

Susan for Governor

(write-in candidacy is fine)

The conference is officially over. I didn’t get to see Cheryl and the others tonight—guess they were not there. Probably they were napping for their night prayer later! The message was good. The people around me were annoying yet again. Earlier today a gray haired, formerly dignified looking (until this occurrence) sat there next to his diligent wife, CLIPPING HIS FINGERNAILS! In church—the man loudly and obviously clipped his nails. Last night a lady in an elaborate state of dress sat down a few rows behind me and began talking full volume to a man next to her—during worship of course. Tonight a guy came in and sat down a few rows ahead of me. Then another man came and talked to him. They actually got up to leave to talk—which I appreciated. But alas! They only perched themselves at the break in the rows and sat talking—not loudly like the woman, but loudly enough that you could not help be disturbed by it. None of this counts the many cell phones that went off—and the people who seems the least bit bothered. They obviously made a conscious choice to sit in church with their cell phones on. I was so disgusted. And every session, without fail, when the speaker got up, there was pretty much undivided attention. So God is not good enough but the speaker is. Man, I wondered if lighting was going to strike!

Back to the lady from the first night… I had an interesting realization about that. Tonight I met the lady she had talked to half the time—this other lady was very nice (and had lived in Tyler!). The other lady was not there today, but I thought for something. For all I know the talking lady could be a sweet and nice lady but her one night in front of me yammering away during worship cost my respecting her. Now she may not give a flying fig if I respect her, but it is a lesson for ME. One off day to someone who doesn’t know you can have a profound effect. So it was annoying beyond everything, but also a caution.

So it is approaching 10 and I am home doing laundry because I will have no time to tomorrow and I ran out of good underwear! (Excuse me if any gentlemen read this, but I think it is my girlfriends and I!) There is so so much to do. Tomorrow I will go to church at my church—by the time I get home and eat lunch it will be 3-4 p.m.. I will shower and get in the car and go back to this church. The guy in the bookstore even knows me now! I am a little intimated but the thought for doing double churches a prayer ministry, dance classes and teaching full time. But it will probably be easier when I actually DO it.

So the conference was a God Thing. I had a feeling there was a purpose there. Can’t wait to get it underway—and boy will I learn a lot about prayer. I came to LA and got the Kansas City prayer people. AMAZING.

On a different note, two and a half years after the librarian at Quitman Junior High School tried to contribute to my demise, hers was imminent in the morning paper in Tyler. “Quitman Librarian Arrested” touted the headline. She made threats, it alleged, toward the superintendent. I was not surprised. She was the reason I was researching Texas Education Code and fighting for my job and evaluation my last year there. It is sad, but I don’t feel sorry for her. She made her own decisions. She has been mean and attacked people and what she has sown she is reaping. She needs Jesus. That is the hope.

Maybe she will meet Him in jail.

Oh, one more thing. I live 4.6 miles and 8 minutes from this church.

In Tyler I had to drive farther to pray!

August 30, 2003

Last night was amazing. I have sent this to many people but must post it too, to keep with blog tradition. If you already read this, you can skip this entry as it is a modified version of what was sent:

Soon after I got here I got online and started looking for a church in the city where maybe I could be involved in a Bible study or something. Because I have chosen to live here I felt a bit isolated because I did not know a soul. Church is 15 miles southwest, and work is 8 miles west. It is an easy drive to both places, but I wanted to meet people in my city too. So two things happened.

The first is that I found a with pastors I knew from other ministries in which I have been involved. So I thought, wow-if these guys pastor here then the church is going to have all sorts of extra stuff. So I looked it up and they have many conferences. I signed up for the one I have been mentioning this week. Then the next thing that happened was when I went to visit Margaret and she had the info on the conference and had a bulletin from the church and I noticed something very important. It had early morning prayer.

Anyway, I miss early prayer very much and even if my own church had it I would be too far away to go and get to work--so the idea of it being here was very appealing. I decided I would find out when I went to the conference. Of course I had about the worst week EVER last week, but God was faithful and I went off to the conference and was very interested. I learned SO MUCH just in the first night that I am in awe--and yet it only reinforced much of what I have believed deep down anyway. But that could be another epic.

So today I finally asked in the bookstore if they knew about the prayer ministry. One lady told me I needed to talk to someone and described her and said she should be there. But no one could find her. By the afternoon session I was so tired I had to go home for a while--still no prayer person. Also I am not good at talking to strangers so I did not run up to everyone I knew was from the church and ask. Then tonight I was determined. I knew they had a ministry on prayer but I didn’t know what that meant exactly. While I was in the bookstore the lady said she had seen the prayer director and told her I was looking for her also. She sent a bookstore worker with me to find her. He led me to her and I guess I was surprised that she was kind of young--not like a kid but closer to my age than what I would have thought for the leader of a prayer ministry. So there I was with her--and she is sitting with a couple young women also. So I told her I wanted to know about the prayer ministry at the church--have just moved her from Texas and have a home church, etc, but I wanted to connect locally.

Thursday night after the conference I drove home with the feeling that this was going to be a part of why I was here--a church this international was going to have lots of externals for me. If I may back up to June, when I first came here... well, I fell in love. I drove into this city and KNEW I was home. And also, if you recall, it all started at Roscoe’s House of Chicken and Waffles—a dive in Hollywood where I saw a girl with shoes on that looked like ballet slippers. A guy from church went to her for me and asked where she got them. A couple days later I looked online for the store and the nearest chain was here and that is how I found this city I love so much. All because of chasing down some ballet like shoes. Then if you all recall, when I got here I had that one rental company and I went there and they had ONE apartment ad it was in the middle of the neighborhood I LOVED and thought there was no way I could afford, but h rent was way cheaper than the neighborhood. And then suddenly I was living in a city I loved where I did not know a soul--not near my church or work--I mean near enough to drive, but actually farther away from both of them. I am closer to Wal-Mart than church (a blessing in high priced LA—I paid 2.13 a gallon for gas the other night—and growled the whole time I pumped!!!) And I have not really understood why I lived here except that I knew God led me here. I mean, as much as I knew He led me to LA, I knew this was the place. In fact, in all my adjustment, it has been the least hard thing to adjust to, my new city. I think tonight I found out why.

I talked a bit with the director, who was also a teacher til she went full time running this ministry. They are affiliated with other houses of prayer. Then came the dance. They had seen a prophetic dance team ministering the same way the singers do but in dance, while in visiting a house of prayer! When I said dance her eyes got so big. "Will you teach us streamers? one of the girls instantly asked. " I would LOVE to," I told them sincerely (is the sky blue?). The one asked if I would be willing to teach kids. HELLO!!! They asked if I have a Sunday night service at my church because that is when they want to do some of this "equipping" stuff. I don't. And they were excited because the vision of the prayer ministry is that everyone worships in their own home churches and ministers separately at the houses of prayer. It becomes separate from the church so all can participate as the body of Christ, not just a church. Then they said when the new school of students training comes, apparently a lot of dancers are coming with that all of a sudden, which is very uncommon!

She told me the prayer schedule--and they do have early prayer. They have a separate hour after that. They have weeknight stuff and some is on nights that I am free. In fact they have nothing on Tuesday or Thursday and those are ballet days! OF ALL PLACES TO HAVE MOVED TO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am beaming. I know it just started and now I have to go and be involved. But I am starting Sunday. They have some late prayer times right now so I will probably start with early and Friday nights, maybe some Saturdays--but soon they will have from 8-10 on M-W-F so I can go M and F. They are devoted and amazing. They were amazed I knew so much about all this. Isn't it incredible that even random visits to a Midwest prayer center a couple times could lead to this? It really shows you how God has every little thing in His hands and planned out. And it even seems like a new dance arena could come out of this--though I hate to get my hopes up about that--but my streamers might have a place to go more often!

We exchanged phone numbers, comments that we would see everyone again tomorrow at the conference, and I left amazed. I think my schedule just got busier. But in one night it all seemed to make sense. I had no idea that this ministry was here. Who knew ? It is nowhere on the internet. And the way I found this church at all was an internet search. If I had not been here, I would not have even found it because I wanted something local--hoping for a Friday Bible study or something. This was beyond what I could have imagined. It is almost overwhelming. But it is good. We all connected the way you do when the Spirit is there.

So major wow! I have the beginnings of friends finally. I start work next week for real and feel finally settled. I am not used to everything yet. I have not met my new ballet teacher--that is Tuesday--or been to pray--or even a Sunday night service yet. I have not taught a class here or met the majority of my colleagues. But that is different than feeling settled. I finally don't want to go home anymore.

I think it is time to put my dancing shoes on again.

I gave up and came home for a break. I am far too sleepy! I was drifting in the meeting—and it was not boring! Three meetings a day is too much. And around here some places are not air conditioned much so the fans were pathetic in the afternoon. I was too hot-it felt cooler outside. The talking people were back. I avoided being near them.

I asked someone in the bookstore about the prayer ministry, she told me the lady’s name who is in charge of it and said she was attending the conference, so I am on the hunt! I was going to skip tonight and stay all day, but I decided to go back tonight, skip the a.m. and stay the rest of tomorrow. It is really fascinating stuff. It is the way I believed back at the start of all my revelation. I used to ask Robin why my eyes couldn’t be healed so I didn’t have bad vision. I truly believe that to this day. But people think you are off your rocker when you talk that way. We are to naturally minded (I am very guilty of this). Beyond that, healing room people have identified psychological roots for many diseases. I happen to buy into that pretty seriously and have felt that myself—but boy, there is a quick way to lose a friend. I don’t know that I understand it all—and tomorrow there is going to be some demonstration and a question and answer session so that will help. But I will tell you, I buy into this more than most things people teach that seem far out there. Worship has more bizarre teachings than this healing ministry. I think we are just not accustomed to thinking like this.

Wonder if I will ever get to be involved in something like this. I am not sure why, but I feel that is a direction God is taking me—which I find almost bizarre. But I am not a sickly person (and often when I am it is related to emotion or that I wore myself out—which is also related to emotion!) and I have faith in this area so maybe if I were in a situation where someone were asking for it and receiving it, it would be a good place for me. One of the pastors at this church received a healing after a long struggle at the healing rooms in Santa Maria—my hometown. I wonder if know anyone there.

Anyway, I will head back for the evening session in a couple hours. I am NOT an afternoon person at ALL! I need to go to Wal Mart, too—but the freeway was gridlocked and I was hot so I put it off. It is to far for surface streets on a Friday. Worst case, I will go Sunday after church or Monday. Labor Day at Wal-Mart—that ought to make it feel like home.

I am looking forward to Christmas in Texas, but also to life here. I won’t get home before that. I won't get home for Maxine’s wedding, it doesn't look like, unless something changes. That is hard, but I wouldn’t have had time to go to Tyler and see people and stuff anyway, so maybe it would have been harder to be in Texas and not go to church. My flights for PA seem to want to connect in Dallas and I won’t do it. I can’t get that close—it would be too hard, so I am diverting. Now that I want to fly coast to coast many flights are connecting. BLECH! The retreat center is full and I am on the waiting list—surprise surprise. But I will do one of two things—a cheap Allentown hotel or sleep on the floor in a Shachah room. That is what was going to happen last year. But I am going. If I don’t dance soon I will ferment.

I love being at a church conference. It makes me feel at home because I spend so much time on ministry trips and stuff. This time I know no one but it is actually helping the adjustment. Go figure.

Pasadena is such a nice city. I could stay here a long time if I had to. The weather and the neighborhoods are so pretty. Who knew you could live ten miles from downtown Los Angeles and live on a tree lined street by a park with a rose garden and have quiet nights? The only thing that reminds me of a city is that my home is not far from a major hospital so I hear sirens frequently. Of course in my old neighborhood I heard them for other reasons!

All in all this is an okay place. I miss dancing and will take care of that soon, but that is all that is lacking. It is a nice place. I am close to everything in the entire southern California area, live near freeways that are usually free flowing, have access to many Christian events, live in a nice place in a quiet neighborhood and so far the earthquakes are in Santa Clarita.

As long as I don’t get shaken up, I think I could like it here.

Sometimes I wish I had been called into anything BUT dance. It gets you no respect and lots of anguish--and yet nothing is more satisfying.

It can be the most beautiful or the most dangerous place to be in the Kingdom of God.

By the way, my blog is now 179 single spaced pages in a Microsoft Word document. But I still can't publish it because there is no ending...

The Charismatic church, for all its wonderful qualities and freedom of the Spirit, is sometimes the rudest most disrespectful place toward God in the world. I know heathens who would behave better in church than many of the Spirit filled Christians I encountered tonight.

I was at a conference at a large church here in town and it was like so many other Charismatic churches I have been in. Worship starts. You know, WORSHIP—the time when we lift up Jesus and the presence of the living God fills the place and a holy reverence is supposed to fall… that worship, you know? Well, of course people are trailing in. Okay, it happens. But would you dare walk in late for a business meeting or appointment and talk the whole time so the people around you are distracted? I am serious. I have a friend who doesn’t believe in God and when she comes to church she sits in respect and doesn’t do things like yap all morning or file her nails. Tonight the group around me made me so mad I almost asked them to be quiet so I could worship. Now I know why half the church walked to the front and remained there during the worship time. It was probably very anointed, but I could not ever tell from all the talking—at full volume (yes, there is music on, so we better raise our voices). Then they would pause and someone would raise their hands and sing for a second like they had been in the presence of God all along—and then the next one would yak. That is probably the only thing I truly dislike about my church affiliations—most Spirit filled churches have a large contingency of people who show absolutely no respect or awe of God yet claim to be serious and devout believers. These people were all between 45-55 years old and obviously were regulars and believers. Complacency is annoying. I guess that is your business if you want to saunter in late and do what you want—that is between you and God. But you know what? Don’t you DARE distract the people who are there to worship. I understand that we all slip here and there and need to say something. I am not Miss Innocent myself. But for 45 minutes solid? I was so disgusted. I sat there composing my blog to stay calm. The only reason I did not move is because it would have made a scene in itself and been very obvious. Apparently the speaker deserved more respect than God because when he got up they all shut up for the most part. I am sitting farther back on an aisle tomorrow—and I will spend worship in the front.

One reason I will do that is because there was a lot of freedom in worship and people dancing—some had flags and glory hoops. It was cool. So I will be prepared tomorrow. Tonight was my first time there and I wanted to take it all in.

With the exception of the rude people, I enjoyed it thoroughly. I was in a healing room training and it was very powerful without emotion (which I like). It was not some Holy Hallelujahfest but the sound Word of God penetrating the place. It was truly awesome. Adding to that is that I believed every word this man said. I have believed it for years but there is so much interference—from the church. We all go through that. Isn’t our biggest area of questioning form within the church and not the world sometimes? Man did it build up my faith. I needed to know some of the almost dogmatic thoughts I have about God are founded in the Word and not ridiculous. It is the funniest thing because I have never felt a great anointing when it comes to ministering to the sick, and yet there is a deeply rooted faith in me in that area, so I don’t know what it all means. Maybe it mean is desire TRUE ministry to the sick, not the rote prayers, but the seriously mountain moving prayers of faith—that is what I want. It is what I have always wanted.

I wandered the church bookstore beforehand. I knew by who the pastors were that there was an affiliation with the House of Prayer I have been to in Kansas City, but I guess being there helped me take in how much. I was really amazed. God took me this far and led me to a place so much like what I wanted.

I really feel I am supposed to have some involvement with this place. I have a home church and committed to it primarily, but there is so much this place has that does not conflict with my church and is my heart that is not currently available at my church. I suspect I will be able to get involved the in the prayer ministry which I am hungering for. I will talk to some people this weekend and see what they have, but they have a lot in that area and a whole prayer room. The is just a lot. I don’t know what or how or anything, but I think it might be part of why I am in Pasadena. I mean, WHY Pasadena? Work is in Glendale, church in North Hollywood, but I drive into Pasadena (out of the way of BOTH those cities) and instantly KNOW I am at home and God is placing me here. Yet I don’t know a soul. It is starting to fit. In some ways I feel a bit torn—the religious person in me says you should only go to one church. But the CHRISTIAN in me says while you COMMIT to one place and make it priority when God has led you, there is nothing wrong with fellowshipping with Christians outside your four church walls. Honestly! I have always been this way. I love it. I feel so blessed that I have been places and experienced so many things and that is because I do not plant myself and say “I shall not be moved.” So I will step out and into this place as much as God will have me involved. It is exciting because I will get so much training and stuff with their House of Prayer affiliation. That is what I want more of. WOW! I truly was amazed walking through that bookstore. It is like the House of Prayer bookstore with all the Forerunner and warring bride teachings and Bickle books as well as all the music and everything. YAY!!!!!!!!

Well, my index finger is swollen purple and my third finger looks like a giant TB bump that wouldn’t go down. Alas! In my hurry to shut my car door, my fingers went along for a painful ride. My index finger is at least 50 percent larger than its normal size. Ow!

The made the start time of tomorrow’s opening session earlier. Bah humbug! Don’t they know I am SLEEPY!? Maybe those other people will be sleepy too and SHUT UP! People at the church seem friendly, though, and I liked it. So I am excited. I was thinking of skipping the a.m. session so I could have real rest, but we will see.

I will have a class full of kids Wednesday, and my classroom, while clean, is barren of posters or decorations. Rae, the dept. head, gave me bunches of posters to hang. I really like her. I am so thankful for that. I am READY for kids. I miss having kids in my life. I love teaching and love kids and can’t wait to have a new bunch and maybe make them “my kids” again. However, I really don’t think there will ever be a group as special as last year’s Lee kids. I don’t miss some of my friends as much as I miss them.

As you can tell, I am basically back to normal. There are still some things inside me but I have enough answers to operate in truth and that is all I need. It is about truth, not people and issues. So I know what I have to do to deal with some issues, but I can live in truth and that is what matters.

I want to say a lot more, do a lot more, write emails and call people, but I don’t have time now that I have this seminar. I am going to try to do some in a break Saturday when the cell phone is free.

Meanwhile, I will soak it up, holding on to my Interminable Hope that maybe someday someone will want what God has placed in me.

No earthquake yet, but some peace on the homefront. Some answers and some clarification. Nothing is as good as it seems; neither is it as bad as you fear.

It is time to find early morning prayer again.

I think I have a source.

I paid $10 for 4.5 gallons of gas tonight (over $2.13 a gallon!). Not cool. I was too cheap to buy much. I am trying to hold out til the prices drop after Labor Day.

Meanwhile it is 11 p.m. and I just got home and ate dinner. I have to be at work at 7:45 (GAG!) to learn more about things I learned in the first four years of teaching. Then I am gone ALL weekend, pretty much, at a conference. It is in Pasadena, but consumes all my time from tomorrow night til Saturday night.

I hope this is the beginning of new things. I am not a lone missionary to a single place but a nomad, still, in the City of Angels.

The phone rang in the check out line of Ralph's Grocery Store.

I think I am invisible.

In the weeks I have been in the Los Angeles area, I discovered today through the US Geological Survey), there have been only TWO earthquakes (rare, as there are usually small ones often). One was the day after I dreamed there was an earthquake and one was last night, the night I dreamed of one again.

Apparently I have an unusual earthquake sensitivity in me now. I have not been scared this whole time, not til last week. Now I wake up every morning thankful there was not an earthquake. I don't like it. Jenna told me last night's scared her, but I don't think I felt it in my dream because I don't think I was even asleep yet when it occurred.

I just sense them like a animal, I guess.

I had another earthquake dream.

This time I was with Beverly and grabbed on to her before it came because I saw it register on the Richter Scale first.

I am too sleepy and home at lunch from new teacher orientation. It is hard to care. This has gone on too long. I have now called three times.

Nothing.

I gave in today. I made a call—of course I got a machine. I resented doing it because of the fact that I am virtually always the one to make a move or initiate something even when it did not originate from me. The reason I gave in is because I almost had a bad wreck on the freeway. Without total truth I am useless. The truth is the ONLY thing that sets me free. I will argue that til my dying day. I must have it—even if it devastates me I must have it. If it devastates me I have a back up. I never want to use my back up because it is second best. I have been trained in excellence.

That was a reference to Shachah actually. I was with Margaret (whom I met at the Vermont Shachah conference in July) in Oxnard and Ventura and it was very interesting for many reasons. One thing I discovered was the source of some controversy. I knew there had been someone who had, in essence, plagiarized Aunty Magrate and made their own ministry based on her work, but at Shachah they don’t gossip about that stuff. But through a different comment—also not a gossipy one but I put two and two together because it all clicked—I came home and looked some stuff up and found out. It was really very interesting because Margaret was talking to me about using other tambourine patterns and how she couldn’t really incorporate them—that one type was emotional but Shachah’s were spiritual, she said. Last night at tambourine practice, there was one pattern they played that I did not like. She told me that was one she had tried to use from the other place (she doesn’t know of the controversy either and I did not tell her) but it wasn’t working. It was so interesting to me that before I even KNEW it I recognized through a tambourine beat what was and was not right. The spirit comes through.

I actually came home with a greater respect for Shachah. You know, I don’t know why everyone wants to reinvent the wheel. God gave Aunty a vision for this stuff like 20 years ago or something like that and it works. She is classically trained and musically advanced. So, yeah, I sort of think she knows what she is doing.

I am reminded sometimes of Shekinah—who might shoot me if she reads this—who is with YWAM and yet her own friends will take groups to Teen Mania down the road instead of the place where she has been trained when she invites them and wants them to share in the awesome ministry she has been given.

Back to my words, it is like a slap in the face. Pastor Michael is talking of arranging a seminar at Margaret’s church, and I have been elected to help. That makes sense because if there is one thing I am it is an administrator. And I like it. But I sat there last night in this discussion with part of her team thinking, If I do work for this and it never happens I will be LIVID. People have the best and highest quality at their disposal and refuse it Incidentally, and please hear this, I am NOT referring to anything recent or in LA right now—people here seem to think Shachah is awesome, as much as they know so far at least. This is a reference to the last three years or so in some various areas that came to light as I looked up the person with NO training whose patterns are written out just like Aunty’s, and I got annoyed. But that is not related to my current life—just too much past leading on that is frustrating.

Anyway, yeah, practice last night. I played with them the whole time and caught on to most of it. They don’t actually play the whole syllabus. Aunty always tells us when we teach to modify it—like if the footwork is too hard, to just do the hands (which is a lot of what they did because their team is older and not dancers) and stuff like that (this is to be distinguished from making up imitations because you want to be cool). Anyway, I had fun. As soon as the music started I was home. That is all I care about—being allowed to worship that way. Okay, so in Texas I drove two hours—do I drive an hour here? Actually, Ventura is a bit more than an hour. But I am thinking about it. Right now it is the only team I have access to and I am about to go loony of I don’t do something. Of course my real heart is dancing—and while they are related—the dance is what I long for so much it hurts. That is not the same at the Sunday Morning Holy Hop, but I mean the stuff that makes my heart fill with a passion and drives me into the arms of God.

I am sometimes criticized for this by other Christians who think it is ABOUT dancing. It annoys me because anything that drives you to worship, serve and love God more deeply than without it is good. When I dance, it is intercession. When I dance, it is communion with God. Some people read the Word, some sing the Word and some dance the Word, but the Word is the Word, and how dare we valuate whose experience with the Word is appropriate?

Please, everyone, would I have fought all these years for it and sacrificed relationships even if it was not doing something spiritual? Don’t people think it would be easier NOT to dance? My goodness. It is easier in ANY church not to dance—even dancing ones. It is not like I have had 15 years of classical ballet—I am not great by anyone’s standards who knows dance. I am not skinny. IT IS NOT ABOUT THE ACT! It is about the Word that comes to life as I move. If people don’t understand that I cannot blame them, but I do blame them when they judge it in me. There are people all over the nation in the Church who would never DREAM of having a worship service without singing but will tell you it is not right to dance every time we worship. Why is one art form greater than the other? Is God that limited? I will confess something here as a former singer. When I ONLY sing in church it is about vocalization for me 80 percent for the time. There are a few times it is pure worship, but singing is a performing art for me. If I must stand still and simply sing songs, I listen to the sounds of the vowels, my harmonization with others around me, how my tones are, etc. That is why even in stand-still churches, if you watch, my arms are subtly dancing even when my feet stand still—the movement is when it becomes pure worship for me. I don’t know why. I just know it is. I dance because I change in the presence of God when I do—and when I change, I try to change the world through what He has shown me. I will never apologize for that.

Margaret’s church is not Charismatic and yet they have a tambourine team, She said sadly that theirs is one of the only ones around—that the ones in the Charismatic and Pentecostal churches—usually known for being freer in those ways—have all but died out. It is tragic. It really is a tragedy.

So anyway, two extraordinary things happened. One is that this team had a CD of songs they have tambourine choreography for. I recognized the title for one but thought, no it is a different song with the same title. Never ONCE in almost 6 years have I heard this song except when I was the one who played it myself. So we put the CD on to see, and I was already forming my mouth to say “nope, that is not it” when I heard the familiar beginning. I cried. They saw my face flood with emotion and the tears fill my eyes. I knew there was significance to that. I knew it beyond anything because I have listened and waited for almost 6 years and never even met someone who knew it, let alone heard it played. The song is the most important song in the world to me—the one God used to change my life: “Hallelujah to the Lamb.” It is what I commonly call my Deliverance Song. And there it was. I could not believe the pure emotion that surged through me upon hearing it. It was an entirely unique experience. They played as much as they could recall for me—it was old to them. But it was not that anyway—it was that my song was there. I am still not sure of the significance but I know it was no accident.

My further fascination came when Margaret informed me, and I am still not sure how, that the city for Pasadena is a forerunner in dance. She also told me about the church at which I am attending a conference. I don’t think the church itself has dance but they are affiliated with the worship and intercession moves in the nation. It was really fascinating. It also helped explain why there are SO many dance schools in a town this size. It made me wonder if the dance community and Christian community here are so prolific maybe the adult education department might be open to the worship dance.

It was very interesting and encouraging—until I was on my own on that freeway again and almost had a wreck over the emotion in this all. All the encouragement in the world is POINTLESS without the purity for truth. There is NO OTHER way. This is one of the times I hate it. I don’t want to deal with it—don’t want to face it. I HATE IT. But I have to.

I would rather die in truth than live a lie.

The high on the first day of school next week is forecasted to be 87. That is the HIGH. I LOVE the weather here. People around here are SO funny. They think it is hot. It is NOT hot. I went to an evening church service a couple weeks ago and all the leaders made heat jokes before everything they said. “Since it is 142 degrees out there today, we are glad you could make it to church tonight,” they quipped. I sat there rolling my eyes. They don’t know heat. That very day I had been driving to church with my windows down. In real heat you can’t do that. Finally the pastor got up to preach. He said they were joking about the heat but where he was last week was REALLY hot. “I was in Houston and San Antonio, “ he said. Yup! That is heat. Like duh, people. Pastors are always smarter. Ha ha! Anyway, yeah, they think it is hot. They think morning dew is humidity. The pastor said being in Texas in August is like when your clothes are 80 percent dry and you take them out of the dryer and put them on because you are running late and spend the day in them like that. Told you pastors were smart.

There is a downside to my having adjusted to Texas heat. I am always FREEZING here. After tambourine practice last night we went out with a couple. I enjoyed everyone on the team and this lady and her husband were so neat. She said, “I hope you come back. I like you.” That made me feel so good because when you get down you feel like all your niceness has evaporated, so I was glad I was still likable! Excuse my bunny trail, anyway, we went to Marie Callender’s (folks in TX: That is a real restaurant and not just a frozen food line!) and I was freezing from standing outside. Remember I was in a coastal town. We got to the restaurant and Margaret gave me her jacket from her outfit. I put it on my legs, decided my naked legs needed warmth more than my partially covered arms. It was a difficult trade-off, and I still froze. When we got back in the van I was literally SHIVERING! Talk about exaggerated jokes, I said it must be 12 degrees. Realistically it was more like 60, but I was cold. She had to run the heat all the way home. This morning we went to the ocean. At 11 a.m. in Ventura it was still in the 60s. We walked in one side and out the other. I was too cold to stay. There was a family there with two little girls in swimsuits. They all looked rather comfortable.

Ha. I would like to see them endure a Texas summer.

Today I went to work for a textbook meeting. The rich publishers read us the inside instructions of our textbook, plied us with candy and Snapples and sold their English hearts out for the almighty dollar.

I told my department head after this fourth day (the three day training last week) of various meetings where someone actually READS a book to me I want scream. I have a master’s degree in ENGLISH. If I want to find out what ancillaries are with a book or what features a book has, for pity’s sake I WILL READ IT!

On a happy note, I saw the reading list. My schedule has changed and now I teach exclusively 9th grade (!!!!). Most of it is now regular classes and on the supplementary novel list is one of my ALL TIME favorite young adult novels. Just the other night it was one I was smiling about in the huge bookstore, and today I found out I get to teach it. I get to help my kids fall in love wth Dicey. I am excited. I really am starting to get excited about work. I get to do FUN things!!! I love my boss and department head. This is good stuff.

Well, I am off to the ocean for a couple days. I am going to see a Shachah friend. I either really need this or really don’t.

How will I ever get there if you don't let me start walking that way?

August 23, 2003

The Music and the Mirror
Music by Marvin Hamlisch,
Lyrics by Edward Kleban
from the musical A Chorus Line

Give me somebody to dance for
Give me somebody to show
Let me wake up in the morning to find
I have somewhere exciting to go
To have something that I can believe in
To have something to be
Use me, choose me.

… I'm a dancer
A dancer dances!

Give me somebody to dance with
Give me a place to fit in
Help me return to the world of living
By showing me how to begin

Play me the music
Give me a chance to come through
All I ever needed was the music and the mirror
And the chance to dance for you

Give me a job and you instantly get me involved
If you give me a job
Then the rest of the crap will get solved
Put me to work
You would think that by now I'm allowed
I'll do you proud

Throw me a rope to grab on to
Help me to prove that I'm strong
Give me the chance to look forward to sayin':
"Hey, listen, they're playin' my song."

Play me the music
Give me a chance to come through
All I ever needed was the music and the mirror
And the chance to dance ....

Play me the music
Play me the music
Play me the music
Give me a chance to come through
All I ever needed was the music and the mirror
And a chance to dance...

It is 11 p.m. and I just got in a bit ago. Every muscle hurts and I might as well have been dancing. I wasn’t, of course, but I was with my dance friends. My check finally came, and once I let the relief settle, I headed down to Santa Monica—less than 25 miles away, but a whole other world. I met up with Pastor, Aunty and Meli at the pier area and we basically lounged around the beach all day. We would walk and then sit—back and forth for hours. Finally Pastor and Aunty needed naps (Aunty says that is because she is 50!). Meli and I walked forever. We took the long way up the pier, walking along the coastline. Then we went to the 3rd Street Promenade and walked all over the place.

We lingered forever in a 3-story Barnes and Noble where I bought a book from an old (and tacky) teenage series I used to read years ago. Being there made me happy. I saw row upon row of young adult and middle reader novels, many of which are not to be found in most bookstores. I was delighted to see some old favorites back in print. Honestly it was probably my first real smile all week long. It was utter bliss to see the myriad of wonderful books. Today’s books for young readers, by and large, for lack of a better term, suck. No joke. It is dribble, with the exception of the Newberry titles and the occasional Lowry or Voight offering. But B&N had so many books that I just beamed and read titles like a kid in a candy store. It was so wonderful. I only bought the one mindless one for fun; I own most of the titles that made me smile so much. But so few bookstores carry them that a modern generation has not fallen in love with Dicey and Anastasia. It is sad. I am thankful that this bookstore—and others, I am sure—still promote literacy. Few bookstores do anymore.

Anyway, then we walked to Santa Monica Place for dinner and finally back to the hotel where Pastor and Aunty were. We arrived more exhausted than we are after dance conferences! Aunty met us and we went to the room awhile, and then they drove me to the pier so I could get to my car. Now, I am sitting in my computer chair, feet propped up on the sofa and they still hurt. Of course that means that dinner will not settle on my hips after all the exercise!

So things were a bit more normal today. I have committed to spend some real time with the Lord tomorrow. I have settled some and need to have a real heart to heart. I need to be with God. That is my way. When something is deeply consuming me, I must go inside myself and be with God only until it is settled. I can’t be “in public” when the private areas are so raw. That is just how I am—and I don’t necessarily think it is bad. What is bad is that people often MISINTERPRET that and think bad stuff. But that is their problem, I guess. My job is to work out what is inside me with God. End of story.

I think I would have gone loony had that check not come today. That took care of the exterior stuff. The real stuff still sits like a hard bagel in an empty stomach (perhaps I should take writing lessons from some of the aforementioned authors!). Anyway, I was glad to be away all day. Tomorrow after my time with God I have to get my house in order. It is really the last day I will be home before school starts because I will be so busy. I am also determined to do REAL grocery shopping in the afternoon.

I am looking again at a career I want. Yes, there is one thing I would quit teaching for in a New York second: dance therapy. There is now a Christian university that offers an alternate certification route through the international association that can qualify you to become a certified dance therapist, but it is in Calgary in summer (good time at least), so it can’t happen yet. There is nothing I believe in stronger than the power of dance, coupled with the power of God, to change people forever. I would not hesitate to quit teaching for that career. I would impact so many more people. Someday I think I will do it.

Maybe then my dance won’t be wasted.

Maybe when I have an internationally recognized certification people will believe in me.

Last night I dreamed I was in an earthquake.

I was outside near my car, on a hill at the base of the mountain, so it was less scary. I was with someone but I don't know who.

It was interesting to me that I dreamed of an earthquake.

Pastor Michael just called. They are in Santa Monica and Aunty invited me to spend the evening with them. “Is it too far for you to drive?” she asked. ARE YOU KIDDING! I would drive pretty far right now! Anyway, They gave me directions and after the mail comes, I will head out. Who knows, maybe God will open a door for me to talk to Aunty about this. And maybe not, but I know I will still love being with them. Somehow I have to get back for Maxine’s wedding. I just have to.

Anyway, now I am just sitting here waiting for the mail—which is hours away. I want to go out for a walk or something but I don’t feel real energized. I feel out of it physically—like moving too much is a strain. That is just my body crashing, not enough sleep and the vitamins. When I take my vitamins early they tend to make me feel a bit ill. But I can’t eat more than I do so early. Today I had a big bowl of bran flakes with an organic banana!

Anyway, I have lots to do here before I go out for the evening. I am sure it will be a long day once I go—which I am totally fine with. It is nice, but a bit ironic, that the best times I am having here are with friends from Dallas. But then that is probably what makes it nicer, you know. So today I will do dishes, fix up my room, hang remaining pictures, organize a bit—and then leave. It will be my first trip to the ocean since arriving in LA.

It is so interesting to me how things happen. Who knew I would grow so much closer to Pastor and Aunty after I moved?

I read my Bible for a long time this morning. I am in one of those modes where I would kind of like to go to church and just sit and listen. Not sing, not dance, not anything but listen. Unfortunately I could not do that. If I were to sit through a service, my goodness, the concern expressed would be annoying! Are you okay? We missed you dancing. I can hear it now. It is more trouble to do that. Yet that would be perfect. Even we dancing girls need to be quiet and reflect sometimes. My closest friends realize that and would think nothing of it. But, quite frankly, it is not worth the hassle.

I love dancing more than I love anything in this world that is a thing. In fact, only two elements at all are greater in my life. Above dancing is Robin and above Robin is God. Other things fall below—some close below, and some further but that is how important dance is. But there are times to this day, five years, five months and one day after the very first time my feet left the floor, that I wish I had never discovered it. There is nothing that has caused me greater pain while giving me great joy.

Nothing.

Today I became officially Californian. I now have CA license plates on my car and a CA driver’s license. The test was actually a bit challenging—well, to someone from Texas who has never had to speculate about when it is legal to drive through a place where trolley cars stop. I did get the question about which roadway ices first. Yup. Texan at heart—good old bridges and overpasses icing up—first thing they tell you every year down yonder on the news when the annual ice storm hits. So I passed the test anyway—actually I did well. And then a lady stamped two holes in my Texas driver’s license, rendering it invalid. Of course she doesn’t know I have TWO Texas licenses. So I am legal to bank in Texas and drive in Texas. Doesn’t that make me half Texan?

Is this entry seeming more normal? Perhaps I am adjusting to the lack of vision. Perhaps I see in the dark now that my eyes have adjusted to midnight.

Still no answerers. Nothing has changed. Tears still fall.

Today my friends called. Tara got my fax and called. She surprised me by how compassionate she was (not that she has NOT been compassionate but I usually don’t go to her with problems). She encouraged me and prayed for me. I really think that helped. Robin called tonight. There is still no one I want to talk to more even though we disagree. She is being spiritually tough on me. She has to be, I know, but it is hard too. It is killing me to not know when I might talk to her again. I SOBBED when we hung up. I can’t stand it. I really can’t. David called too. We are having dinner at the end of my first week of teaching. That will be nice.

Miss Butler tried to call but got a busy signal—imagine that. So I have friends. I know I have friends. But the call that would help did not come. Will not come.

My check did not come either. The TRS doesn’t have it. I don’t have it. No one knows—but in 8 days I have $1500 of bills due and I currently possess about $400. THAT is scary.

Robin has faith, I wish I had her faith. I wish I could sit at her feet and learn and watch I would actually rather watch her go through the hard times. I admire her so much. I wish I could just watch. I don’t learn from hearing; I learn from seeing. She is amazing. I don’t tell her that enough—and she wouldn’t let me anyway.

I couldn’t really hear her tonight—she knew that. I mostly needed to hear her voice.

I need hugs—I need affection. Nothing else is doing it right now. That is one thing I am seriously lacking here. That doesn’t seem likely to change.

The floor under my couch is a montage of assorted paperwork. It is crazy how much I have had to do in these weeks, but the bulk is done. I even have a voter’s registration form, and now that I have a driver’s license number I can mail that back tomorrow. In CA you can be a permanent absentee voter, but I won’t. I want to GO to the polling place and have the honor of voting. I wish I could elect Alabama Chief Justice Roy Moore as our new governor. He is my hero right now. (If you don’t know what I am talking about go to CNN.com and do a search on this man of God.)

My vitamins came in the mail today. My brain was thankful. No one sells them around here. I did find my hair gel in the shopping center a block away for $4 less per bottle—so I supersized it. I did not want to switch gel or vitamins. So now I mail order vitamins.

The inside of my refrigerator looks like Baja Fresh collided with Panda Express. I live on take out. As soon as school starts it will be vastly different. Tonight I went to Trader Joe’s and got a lowfat salad and a chicken, artichoke and something else Californian pizza.

I am going to work on my room in a bit. It is still not together. It is not yet home.

The saddest part of all this stuff is that I could really like it here. The traffic is better than Tyler. My apartment is great. It is so quiet and nice. I love my neighborhood and my city is beautiful. I think I will like my job. I drive very Californian already! (However I have NOT adjusted to the gas prices—currently $2.17 on average). I could have been happy here.

What happened?

Miss Butler, Jan, and a ballerina rug were the things that made it worth spending 24 hours conscious today--a reminder that God is there even in the valley. Even in both valleys.

The San Gabriel Valley and the San Fernando Valley.

These recent blog entries will likely get me in some kind of trouble—but I can’t live in fear. I hope I will have grace.

Anyway, dance is on my mind—I am looking at the civic ballet brochure I have and trying to decide if I want to go that venue for the other classes or what. I am going to be so busy with dance that I am going to find out how much I really love it. For example, one of my options has me dancing from the time I get off work on Tuesdays until 8:30 at night with only a dinner break. The civic ballet has more than one class I can take, but the cost is rather high. I have to be careful, big time. Still, if I am going to take 4 classes a week, then at least one should be different than ballet. So do I endure jazz, modern, tap, or hip hop? I am not a big fan of any! I am such a purist ballerina! If I dance that much and get decent and lose more weight, I could actually dance more in public. I will have to work, but I could. . Dancing is like breathing to me and I must have it.

In Texas they are preparing for the women’s conference. I am not there. I could be doing some gorgeous dances in beautiful costumes. It is very hard to not be there. I would give anything to spend every Sunday driving to Dallas again. But the bottom line is that I must dance. I must. If the colleges and civic ballets will receive me, then I will come. I will no longer fight or pitch a fight over the desires in me; I will merely do what I have to do. It will never be the whole piece, but it is something.

Icing on the cake, only there is no cake. No foundation. But it is still icing.

One of my favorite poems...

Good Morning - Midnight -
I'm coming Home -
Day - got tired of Me -
How could I - of Him?
Sunshine was a sweet place -
I liked to stay -
But Morn - did'nt want me - now -
So - Goodnight - Day!

I can look - cant I -
When the East is Red?
The Hills - have a way - then -
That puts the Heart - abroad -

You - are not so fair - Midnight -
I chose - Day -
But - please take a little Girl
He turned away!

-emily dickinson

Things are so not good.

I am so not good.

The tears won't stop.

The disappointment is great.

I will dance for the world now.

This is one of the times I love the state of California. I went to register for my college ballet class today. I was hoping there was some way they would classify me as a resident of California, but I was pretty sure I would have to be here a year first. Bottom line was that even out-of-state tuition was cheaper than a full semester of ballet at a ballet school. So I had nothing to lose and these lessons are twice a week, not once. Well, gasp! I went on my lunch and managed to do the application, registration and fee payment in no time! (I also love freeways because I did this driving two cities away). So I get up to the window and it seemed I would have to be a Texas resident, and then I asked about one question on the residency questionnaire. Get this: There is a residency exemptions for full-time certificated employees of a California school district. I had proof with me and that was it—I was classified a CA resident. My TOTAL fees for twice weekly ballet classes from now til December?

$24.

There are good things about this state.

Too much at once…Sometimes people don’t hear you no matter how loud you talk.

Today was my first sort-of day of work—the start of the three day training conference that was okay but awfully LONG! I like the English dept. head and hope that is a good sign. At lunch I had to get an oil change and do some paperwork. Always busy. So busy I even forgot an appt. after work. Yikes! Brain alert.

I had a slew of email when I came home. My two favorites were from a ballet teacher and my pastor. The ballet teacher basically let me know the class I wanted to take would work, so guess who (if I can get enrolled in time because only 6 spots are left) is about to take ballet for college credit? Is that wild? I guess that is one way to make dance tax deductible! It will be a different experience, but I am ready. I am serious about being more serious about dance. I still think I am doing the other class too. The problem is the beginner classes are too beginner for me but the intermediate tend to assume too much. I would always rather look better than worse in a medium I am not so comfortable in. Shachah was perfect—it assumed we were beginners and taught us like we were advanced.

Anyway, the email from Darrell was just in response to a question I had asked about a church activity and later we had a phone conversation on a different topic, but I guess I just like that he knows me and treats me like a spiritually mature woman with a brain. It is just really nice, I guess. Truth is, my conversation with him today was one of the only serious, God-based conversations I have had with a person since getting here. I have spent a lot of time with people and done a lot of fun things, but it is different than that spiritual connection—and I have not had that. I don’t think I really will either.

That is why I am taking too much ballet.

Meeting people and making friends is a beast. I hate it—and I am not going to do it. I am making ballet instead. Tomorrow I sign up for two or three classes. YAY!

I spent the day with Pastor Michael, Aunty Magrate and Melissa. I had a wonderful time. It was so cool seeing them come in at the airport. They joked that they can’t get rid of me, even when I move away, here I am. I had the honor of being the one driving Meli when she first saw her college. You can tell this is a dream for her—and it is so special. No one deserves it more with her humble sweet spirit and selfless attitude. We followed them to get the rental car and it took both cars to fit their stuff. Then we went to their hotel. It was too early to check in, so they left their stuff and we all went to Chinatown for lunch. Aunty bought me Chinese fans and then added some of her own artwork to them to cover the Chinese things that are not godly—she made them totally godly. Really cool. Then we hung out in their hotel. They didn’t need me much today and so I got to go to church. Worship was good. It was the special worship night. It was the most peace I felt in WEEKS. I probably should have left right after that.

Anyway, I had a great time with the Yaps. I know there is a reason Meli is here and I am here and other connections are happening. I think it helped my own faith about being here. Someone from home and all, and let’s face it, very little meant more to me in Texas than Shachah. I don’t think people really understood because no one delved into it or saw much of it, but other than Robin, nothing meant more to me in Texas, so it helped me bunches to have them here. It was the most comfortable and familiar I had felt since Robin left. I really should have stayed with them later.

Tomorrow UPS will bring Meli’s boxes and I will take them down to the hotel in the evening and have dinner with them. I am looking forward to it immensely. In fact more than anything else I can think of right now.

The other thing I am looking forward to is seeing a new friend in Ventura. She is the one I met in Vermont who has a tambourine team here and has been affiliated with Shachah for years. She wrote today and we are going to get together—possibly next Tuesday all day (the day before I begin work). I have a hair appointment with Terry that day but I am going to cancel it. You can always reschedule something like that. Anybody affiliated with Shachah is a fresh air to me. That is where I fit. But there is a piece of Shachah here, so who knows all together what might happen. Shachah is home.

After church I went back to Baja Fresh. Man is that place GOOD! I imagine I will take up residence in there. I know where the ones in Pasadena and Toluca Lake are now—and I think I know Burbank, so as soon as I figure out Glendale I am covered across the territory I travel regularly.

I am so glad I live where I do. Even in down times I look forward to coming home, I am so far away from the rest of the world and I love it. I just had to go to the store for a plunger—at 11 p.m. fun fun—but I love my neighborhood and the store is a block away. It is good to be up here. Easy access to everything and near nothing I don’t want to see.

I gave up on the vitamins and ordered them online. I found my brand at some place for a decent price. Now I only have to find my hair gel. Nexxus.com says there is a place in the same shopping center a block away as the store—so if they only sell the right kind all that junk will be done.

I sure hope that TRS check arrives because I no longer have rent money! But it should be fine. If not, I will be evicted and move back home.

Tomorrow morning is busy as can be. I have until 1 p.m. to get my paperwork to Glendale, get my application to a college, pick up training materials at the high school for work Tuesday, get my house clean and done and be ready for the influx—glass man to repair my windshield, UPS man with five boxes for Meli, Probably Pastor Darrell with the dresser they are bringing. Then when all that is over, I shoot back down to USC. That will be all night and I will come home and go to bed and get up for my conference. Three days of captivity. No plans anymore at night—they changed again—so other than Wednesday, maybe I can talk to people back home. Friday and Saturday are nothing specific, except that I expect I will go to a local dance studio with open classes and take some. Next Monday is the textbook meeting, Tuesday I will probably go to Ventura and see Aunty Margaret (not to be confused with Aunty Magrate!—this is the other Shachah lady, but all ladies older than you are Aunty). Then Wednesday I begin my first official day at work—not on my campus but with the district. That is through Thursday. Thursday night through Saturday I am at a conference at a church in the city—we are talking time consuming and spiritually intense. Then a day off that Labor Day before I go to work for real. My time is gone. I will have no free time left. If I take the dance classes I think I am, and do the other stuff I plan, I will have no free time.

Good.

August 16, 2003

Ah! Adventures in Susanland! The devil is scum.

Indeed, after driving all over the San Fernando Valley (that is the Valley I hate—I live in the San Gabriel Valley) in search of my vitamins and having to settle on an overpriced off brand, I decided to go to church. I needed to worship if nothing else. So I go and find it pleasantly smaller than I envisioned—probably because it is a Saturday evening service. I could hardly believe it—the first song they sang was one of my all-time favorite worship songs that I have NEVER heard sung in a church. I learned it—in a roundabout way—through a person in England in 1999. It is incredible—musically beautiful and lyrically resplendent with the glory of God. It is called “Beautiful Saviour,” and it was a delight to hear live for the first time in my life.

Anyway, the service was nice enough. Any place I can’t dance is not a place I could live, but I knew that. It was a proper Spirit filled church, but still a good one. I am just not proper. I was probably the more expressive one there! I did meet some lovely people during the prayer time. I mean they were so neat. The pastor took some getting used to—I think I pinpointed why by the end and decided I liked him—but he was not typical But his sermon was very interesting. It was from Zechariah, about returning to the stronghold of hope—and it was about the fine line between hope and fear (oh, hush, Robin!). But he said so much good stuff that really did minister to me. He was a very intellectual man, so it was not an emotional type thing, but more of me writing it all down and taking it to heart. I was delighted that it did not run too late, as I was not really wanting to be out anyway, but knew I needed to go to church. I was not sure the quickest way to get home, but took a chance and I think I got back rather speedily. Still I am amazed by freeways.

I wanted to try a place for dinner I had passed many times, so I drove to South Lake Avenue where all the restaurants are and got Baja Fresh. It looked so good. I could not wait to get home and eat and relax—and it was still only around 10 when I got back to my place. I had to empty my trunk into my storage area so Pastor and Aunty and Melissa could fit stuff in my car. At this point I was feeling good. As I left Baja Fresh, a light went on in my car that I had never seen. It was a little red picture of a person with an airbag on them! I was not amused. You just know sometimes that things are straight from hell—let’s annoy Susan right after a church service where she is responding to the message. Well, Susan got MAD. I was warring against that pit of hell and commanded that light to go off after I had already stopped once and tried to no avail to restart and see it return. I pulled into my carport after my little anti-devil fit and turned off the car, then back on. The test lights all went on—including Mr. Air Bag. It seemed to linger and then it went off. What victory! Ha! Won that one, devil. I unloaded my trunk stuff, cleared out my car and grabbed everything. I locked the door and headed to eat my food and relax—just about the time I noticed my keys sitting on the front seat.

So the devil felt like a fight. He is messing with my car lately. Talk about mad. I have roadside service with my cell phone The number was allegedly stuck on the back of my phone when I bought it—you know, easy access in case you need it. Alas! It was nowhere to be found. So I called my cell provider and they transferred me. The next 45 minutes to an hour was spent on the phone and wandering around my dark carport alone. I gave the person the wrong number when she asked for my cell! I gave her my home number. Well, later fearing it would mess up in the system I called back to correct it. But it was fine. But they took so long to get here. Finally at 11 he arrived and by 11:10 had it opened. I remained calm the whole time. Sometimes when you recognize attacks as attacks it is easier to not react, I think. What was the point?

But there is a spiritual side to this… a real question that came about. Of course the first thing I did was pray and try to open it myself. I even found a catch in the window that would have maybe worked, but it was so dark and I had nothing with me to help. Of course that meant I was locked out of my house too. I was thinking about the Lord. He has opened prison doors and torn down walls. Certainly He could open a locked car door. He can. I believe that—and yet I knew when I was praying that that I did not have the faith. I could believe the light would go off, but the more supernatural it gets the harder it is. And then was mad at myself. I told the Lord I want the kind of faith that can believe for those things. I have the power of the Almighty God within me and yet I have to stand locked out of my car? I don’t believe that is necessary. I believe there is a lot of power I have yet to grasp-and I believe I have to grasp it to go on deeper. I think perhaps this conference I will be attending in a few weeks will help in that regard. I decided tonight I am really glad I am going. I am ready to grow deeper. The pastor said tonight that people of faith are MADE. I know that is true.

I am fixing to be filled with faith—and the next time the door will open—car or prison. The power is there. I just have to get it.

I am determined to be at Extravagant Worship tomorrow night. I am taking my clothes, my streamers, my tambourine, my everything in the morning. And the when the Yaps don’t need me anymore, I shall be dancing my heart out and into the Father’s arms the rest of the night. I am getting desperate.

With God there is no better place to be.

I did it. I signed up to attend a major ministry conference in Los Angeles in a few weeks. I am sure it will be overwhelming to me, but for some reason (which I hope is God) I feel such a strong attraction to this type of ministry and want to understand more. Who knows? It might be a way to meet people or maybe God is going to use me in the very thing by which I am so fascinated.

I picked up my washing machine part today—Robin helped me figure out how to do it and now I have CLEAN CLOTHES!!!! YAY!

My windshield costs $234 to repair—less than half what I thought, but more than I have )-:

My mailman’s name is Rick, and today he brought me something sent to my Tyler address only 5 days ago. It was forwarded straight here and not to Terry’s. Ah! Some semblance of mail sanity is arriving.

My fridge quite possibly has no American food in it. Well, that is a slight exaggeration as there is some mil, salad dressing and salmon ravioli (thanks, Bobbin), but by and large everything edible in my fridge is Middle Eastern. I am still in food heaven.

I have to go vitamin hunting today but if I go to church tonight then I want to do it all at once so I have to decide--and dress accordingly. My short overalls are not the best for attending church! THEY wouldn’t care but I would.

I talked to Robin for a long time today and that was so good. We prayed for a long time and that was better. We are going to take time to pray at least every other week and that makes all the difference. That one prayer was more effective than anything else this week, I think.

When I live in the physical wither away; when I live in the spiritual I am resurrected.

Today I rejected California banks.

I am so disgusted. I signed on with Bank of America in order to have a “national” account. HA! First my account is still in Texas even if it is B of A and then I found out that “free” checking meant as long as I do not need to make a deposit with an ATM or speak to a teller more than three times. Hello! How free is THAT? I learned this through a phone call, and then it was later confirmed through many ads throughout the Southland from Washington Mutual Bank which has REAL free checking. But it seems that means if you are lucky enough to be seen by the people who work there. I had to sign in and wait forever, and no one even acknowledged I was there. Two people in new accounts were working on one man. And suddenly I thought, what am I DOING? I have a great bank with REAL free checking. I use Direct Deposit and rarely make outside deposits anyway. You can get cash back at grocery stores with no ATM fees. And so right there in the bank with Jenna, I decided to stay with my Texas bank. I am signing up my salary to be DD into that bank, as well as any bank drafts. I felt so good making that decision. That is the good side of a global world. I hate being manipulated by mega institutions and that is what happened so I am not giving in. That helped me, believe it or not. Of course I will write both banks telling them why a TEXAS bank gets my money. I will also pull my retirement cash out of B of A and into something better.

I had a washing machine crisis today—the part Whirlpool said I needed was only ONE part and so in the midst of money chaos, I have to go spend another $80 in the morning. UGH! I found someone here in town so I could avoid having Whirlpool shipping it. Why can’t people get answers straight the first time? I am too old fashioned for my own good sometimes, but I expect when you pay someone to know something they will know it right. No excuses.

Then I went to get my mail at Terry’s and I stopped in to say hello. That was so nice. I needed that—even that brief visit with a Christian friend was such a respite from the chaos of life these days. I definitely need more of that.

Then I had dinner with ANOTHER old friend I have not seen in years. It is amazing that all my old friends are still here and we are still friends. She is a neat person—not a believer but she told me tonight that when I talked about God and church she could understand it because I taught her to understand that stuff years ago and she can have a respect for God and church now. YIKES! “I did that,” I asked. “You.” She said, “you did that.” (Proof that God uses the foolish things because what a loser I was back then.) She tells me now she is starting to believe in God and is in an “exploratory” stage. Cool! That was so encouraging. And there I was in the parking lot of Sizzler preaching up a storm! “Jesus is the answer,” I told her. “That is the answer to everything. There is one true God and Jesus is His son.” And went on about what has changed in me and how it is not church but a relationship with Jesus that can turn everything around. And she listened. Wow! She has a master’s in a science field and she says the more she studies her science the more she sees there must be a God; meanwhile, another good friend says the more she looks at science the more she struggles to believe in God. I found that a very interesting contrast.

I think that was the most encouraging thing of all to me. The last thing I wanted to do was come back her and ferment in Christianland. The whole vision of the church is to take the Lord to the community. If I can’t take Him to my old friends, how pathetic is that! So I was so encouraged. I am also bolder. Terry was right, and I have learned so much in that area. More on that topic later.

After our three hour talk-talk, I drove Foothill Blvd. as far as it goes. I found out I could get o Pasadena on it! Then I drove more. I was feeling so good finally after all the junk and want to drive and relax and be at peace. I ended up in Los Angeles! Seriously I went from Pasadena to South Pasadena to Alhambra. I was not sure how that happened. But then the next thing I knew I was in a horrific neighborhood—which was no big deal and almost kind of funny. I always do this kind of thing. I get lost in one sense but I never feel lost because I always know I can get out. I can find my way out of anywhere. Years ago that was a great spiritual analogy to me also. I learned that it was that same confidence I need to have with God—that even of the path is unclear, I should have the same confidence it will lead me home in the spiritual sense as I do the physical.

Anyway, the next thing I knew I saw signs for Interstate 5! That meant I was a bit more out there than I thought, and voila!, there were the buildings of downtown LA! So I got on the 5. Never a question around here you will eventually run into a freeway and one will lead to another til you are home. The 5 led to the 2 and the 2 to the 134 which heads into Pasadena. I LOVE the 2. It is so high up and you see mountains and valleys all at once (just like driving down the Blue Mountains of PA—only that is even prettier). Anyway, I found my way home, of course.

It is getting better. I have an attitude that may or may not be good but it is helping me. It is the attitude that spiritually I am alone here, on my own with no direct people support from here or there. That is not entirely true—and is not to exclude corporate things like having an awesome church—that is not what I mean at ALL. As I separate I get stronger. If I except noting I hurt less if I get it. If it is me and God then that is fine. He obviously has a purpose for me just with my friends if nothing else—and I know there is more. I know they can see something different. So here I am.

I won’t say I don’t miss Texas. It killed me tonight not to be at the ladies’ meeting—but with the recent emotion, that helped me not be as upset as I might have had everything been totally okay. But I have had dreams the last two nights about home and close friends—with some truth I think. And these are dreams that bother me. So I have to separate from them.

Tomorrow I was going to go to Hollywood to a dance class but I am not sure I can get back in time to pick up my washer part, and I told him I would be there. I can’t go to church Sunday morning because I have to pick up the Shachah people from the airport. But I decided I can go to a Saturday night service tomorrow in the Valley. It is not my church but it will help. I expect to make a final dance decision in the next couple days and enroll Monday or Tuesday in the class (or classes) I choose.

Terry and I were talking about the worship seminar in September and ideas. THAT excites me and I can’t wait to do that. That is me and what I am about—when I dance there is only joy. It floods me from the first moment—more and more these days. So perhaps I am to be alone and people-less in the close Christian sense, but I will dance through it and love it. I can’t wait to teach it at the church and be able to share the principles and things that have burned in me for years. I think God is going to do amazing stuff. I have learn done thing well enough to teach it—a simple Shachah dance—almost dance actually. I also want to do something of my own to share and teach so I am listening to music and thinking and praying.

The last time I did “Dance with Me” I had an utterly miserable were unlike any other in recent memory and this time as well. I always cover myself spiritually before I dance and pray and prepare. I take it incredibly seriously, but I have not thought to when it was over. Robin mentioned that and it may be. The two worst weeks I have had I the last few months were the weeks immediately following doing this dance God gave me. Hmmmm…..

So tomorrow is almost like my last day of freedom. Sunday and Monday I am a willing servant to the Yaps, Tuesday through Thursday I attend a work conference. Friday I am off but having a day off here and there is hardly like being free. I have to go to the DMV. It seems my car registration might be a little less, but word is cracked windshields are illegal—if they won’t register it with a crack I am in HUGE AND DEEP trouble because there is absolute zero way I can afford to fix it now and without the CA registration I will lose my insurance… in other words a Catch-22 so it HAS to be registered next week or I am in a rotten, inescapable situation. Pray people! This is a Christian blog. PRAY!!!!!!!

One final (and very random) note: FREEWAYS AMAZE ME. Los Angeles has, most agree, the best freeway system there is. It is too crowded, of course, but the roads themselves are excellent. As I mentioned earlier if you get on one, you can get to any other one easily. I am amazed at the merges and splits and how the lane you are in suddenly becomes a lane to a new freeway but the old freeway somehow still retains the lane you just left with. Then you follow a few signs and you can cross over great distances in minutes. It is almost like flying at a driving speed. Am I the only person in awe of the freeways? I think it is amazing. Who ever knew how to make them so right? What minds could design such enormous and complicated things to be so logical? If you look at an LA freeway map you see the incredible unity of the system. And every time I am on them I am utterly amazed at what one car on one freeway can do in a matter of minutes.

I am currently trying to choose a dance class. I am fermenting without it. Most classes start Sept. 2 or so. Here are my options: A two day a week for-college-credit class at Pasadena City College—consuming pretty much all my after work time two afternoons, a one evening a week class at the Civic Ballet, a for-college-credit class at Glendale College on Saturday mornings—in addition to another as this is jazz or weekly classes in Hollywood at The Edge ( sort of West Coast Steps—world famous open class dance school)—or any combination therein.

I think I would like to get a degree in dance one day. I am also currently considering returning to school for my MBA or Master’s or PhD in Organizational Leadership. I have taken several management classes and truly enjoy them. I don’t think I can afford to teach forever—heck, I can’t afford to teach now, but I have loved it. These are future possibilities. Tonight I wonder which dance class will be mine. They all cost about the same. Group dance classes are inexpensive anyway. Besides if I stopped dancing you would need to commit me. There are no Christian classes here no worship dance. The best I can do for that is teach my own. But I still need to the student—I need better technique and height and points.

And I need to rise higher so I can see from my toes.

Okay, so I know that it is my own dumb fault my eyes are burning so bad it hurts to have them open. It is a rare day when I cry as much as I did today. Sure I cry and get upset and all that—I am an emotional being, but, boy, today I hit pay dirt. Actually it was more like feeling like dirt because I didn’t get paid. I don’t feel like addressing that though because that is not what was REALLY wrong—just my weakness. I am so strong and so able to deal with almost anything, but I don’t handle money situations well. I know God wants that in control just as He does other things, I know that—and so do I—so far, though, I stink!

I did have a nice time during one part of my day though: I went to Wal-Mart. It is a 15 minute or less drive away in Duarte, right off the freeway, so it is easy. As I drove in there, I had a sense that I would be sitting there in that spot many-a-time in months and maybe years to come. It is easy to take a place like Wal-Mart of granted in the South where it is sometimes more like the local mall. But here it is a joy to visit. Not only does every Wal-Mart look alike inside with the big, yellow smiley faces and “rolling down prices,” but it just makes you feel like you are in the South all over again. Okay, so they sold Dodger and Angel mugs, but when I walked in a man was asking a clerk if they had Dallas Cowboy t-shirts. Of course I hate the Cowboys, but it was the spirit of the question I liked!

What bliss to graze the aisles like a content shopper with no hang ups. I think Wal-Mart is the only thing in Los Angeles that is not overpriced. Even the sodas still cost 1.97 for a 12-pack. In the grocery stores, if they are not on sale, they are $5-6 and my $3.85 cereal is 5.19 here (I stopped eating it, of course)! It was pure bliss being there, and no farther than driving from Quitman to Mineola to go to a Wal-Mart so why not Pasadena to Duarte?

In a city where gas price are now approaching $2 a gallon again, Wal-Mart is like water in the desert.