March 29

Right now I am sitting at a chair near the door at the Riverghetto Starbucks. I know, I know. I am supporting the man. But not really. I am sitting quite contented with my Columbia bottle of water. Its not unbreakable, like a Nalgene, but my dad likes to effectively ruin my Nalgenes by using them for his morning protein shakes, which leaves them smelling like someone threw up in them.

Actually, I like Starbucks. Sometimes when I sit here trying to read and little Asian twins run around in circles shouting, "Wahhhhhhhmomwahhhhhh " it gets a little annoying. But, for the most part, despite the outrageous prices (A latte is only espresso, milk, and a little droplet of caramel sauce. Seriously, four dollars?), the unstoppable corporate force it has become, and the fact that I have been denied a job here despite applying 47 times, I like Starbucks. I have read lots of good books here. I have written many painfully-long blogs sitting on the little round tables of my neighborhood ’Bucks.

Right now I am at a little round table at my neighborhood ’Bucks , wearing my mom’s reading glasses, partly because I think they look cool but mostly because last night a few people told me that they looked cool. When I stare at anything but the computer screen for longer than three seconds, my eyes start to cross and I feel as if I might puke in my backpack, but overall it’s been worth it. When I walked in this girl looked at me and gave me a "you look good with glasses" look. I know that look when I see it.

Sometimes I like to listen to the things that the people around me are talking about. These three girls in their upper twenties are sitting closer to the window and are expressing their frustration with God. One of the girls told a story about one of her girlfriends whose husband was killed in Iraq, and whose son had cancer. While dealing with all of this, her friend had a car accident, rendering her completely helpless to care for herself or her ill son. They wondered, and I suppose it is understandable, "Where is God in all of this?"

They went on to talk about their own personal faith struggles, how sometimes they wish God would just bless them so that they would have the ability to bless others, if that’s what He wants. I lament for them, and I just wish for clarity in their hearts. John Eldredge has said before, and I agree, that about 90% of the time we have no idea what’s going on in the world around us, and no clue how to react to this experience that’s happening to all of us. On the way here, I had a moment of clarity (about 2.3 seconds, enough time to have this thought), and said to myself, everybody’s just driving around. I understand that this is pretty obvious, but think about it. At that moment, with my windshield wipers working overtime and lots of busy shoppers and mallgoers crowding the road, how many of us were actually going somewhere with a purpose? I realize that maybe someone was going to exchange some shoes or buy, say, lightbulbs, but I’m talking about having a real purpose. How many people at that red light on Conference Drive were really living? I admittedly wasn’t. The only reason I was using gas and polluting the environment was because I was tired of sitting at my house. So I was sort of just driving around. We all just drive around.

Right now over the speakers the song Don’t Fence Me In is playing. Aside from singing it in the sixth-grade school play and it bringing up memories of Laura Butterworth (wherever you are, I hope you know that I talk about this at least once a week) tripping and falling during the climactic final song, it opens my eyes to the fences that I live in.