The Woman Who Ruined My Life

The first time I met Diane, she told me I was going to hell. I didn't like her too much after that.

Fast forward eighteen months later. I am currently sitting at my computer, still in shock over the news I received yesterday. After a three-month stay at the hospital, Diane lost the battle against her flesh and passed away. I am feeling weary from all the tears that have poured from my eyes.

From any practical point-of-view, Diane and I had nothing in common. I'm 19-years-old, was born and raised in a middle-class home in Southern Orange County, and I enjoy being nice to everyone I meet. Diane was 68-years-old, lived in a motel in Santa Ana, and enjoyed telling people she met that they're going to hell. Despite these differences, Diane became my friend.

I met Diane through a motel outreach ministry I do with my friends every Sunday morning. She was the very first person I met at Sunland Motel in Santa Ana. Despite her feisty and abrasive personality, I was intrigued by her. Yes, she annoyed me and even scared the crap out of me. However, there was something in my heart that told me to reach out to her. After months of Diane telling me I was damned to go to hell, I asked her if we could talk about something other than religion and theology; I wanted to know about her life and her heart. I still remember her smile and giggle, as she happily agreed. After that, the highlight of my week was bringing Diane food and talking about childhood memories. My heart warms up each time I think about her toothless grin and joyful wave. One time, Diane asked me if it made me uncomfortable to talk to her and spend time at the motel. I told her it didn't and that, for some reason, I felt more at home there than in the comfort of my suburban life. I'll never forget her response. She looked me in the eye and said, "It's because in broken places and broken times, we find ourselves."

I've realized over the past year that one of my life's greatest passions is spending time with the homeless and people who filter through motels. My heart feels it's biggest when I hug a prostitute and give her the only physical affection she's received for free. I become joyful when I rub a drug addicts arm, feel their needle wounds, and see the shock on their face when I treat them how I would my own brother. I think we can all agree that it's important to reach out to the poor, no matter what religion you are (Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist) or whether you're any religion at all. No matter who your God is, caring for the poor is an essential part of humanity.

People try to use religion to increase their credibility, but what they fail to realize is that religion has taken the place of God. My biggest goal in life is not to be religious, but to just speak the truth in love. In the book "Irresistible Revolution," Shane Claiborne criticizes when people say they want to be a voice for the voiceless. He writes about how ridiculous this is. The truth is that no one is voiceless; we just stopped listening to their cries for help. Religious people can be one of the most hypocritical groups. They're like a broken car- they make a lot of noise, but don't move. If all the religious people did as they said, can you imagine how many lives would be changed?

Two years ago, I never would have imagined I would be spending my Sunday mornings at a motel in Santa Ana, let alone even caring about people who could never socially benefit me. Yet today I sit here, weeping over a woman I have known for less than two years. This socially displaced woman, whose deep wrinkles were a testimony of sixty-eight years of trials and hardships, is someone I feel closer to than even a few of my own family members or people I call "friends."

Everything in my life changed the first day I served at a motel. Everything in my life changed when I said "yes" to God. I think it's safe to say that the agenda I made for myself got ruined. My heart got ruined. My life got ruined. Praise God for my brokenness... it's where I found myself.

What I did today, 420, brahhh!!!

I went to motel ministry, edited some photos, went to church, and am about to watch Juno with my family. Sicky sick brah.

And no, I am not boring. Sometimes I watch South Park.  This is Towelie from the show, who's playing video games after getting high.  You know, the American dream.

My Brother is Such a Goon

My brother stopped by my office yesterday when I had the day off. I came in this morning and found this on my desktop:



Here is a close-up of the picture:



The writing is kind of small, so if you're as blind as me (yay stigmatism), it says:

COURTESY: Brushing your teeth so your boyfriend doesn't have to close his eyes every time you smile."

Haha. I love Chris.

Photographing Amyzing

I got to hang out with Miss Amy Baker yesterday and we did an improptu photoshoot. She was so much fun to take picturs of! She’s a beautiful woman and I’m lucky to have been able to capture that.

Awkward.

I just came home and my dad was watching "The Pussycat Dolls: Live in London."

Uhhhh... yeah.

My Thoughts This Morning

When I was younger, my brother's favorite past time was tying my sweater sleeves in multiple knots... oh, and it'd be the sweater that I was wearing. No matter how much I squirmed and tugged, I could never untangle myself. When I finally would give up, I would be red-faced, drenched in sweat and on the verge of tears. It made me feel horrible.

My brother hasn't done this to me for about 4 years now (knock on wood), but I've recently had that same feeling of helplessness. One of the most difficult things for me is when someone I love is hurting and there's absolutely nothing I can do mend their brokenness. It makes me feel like I'm an inadequate friend, sister, daughter and girlfriend. It makes me feel defeated.

My favorite song by Coldplay is "Fix You." Chris Martin wrote it when his father-in-law passed away. He sings about watching his wife cry and how all he wants to do is fix the situation and make everything alright. It makes him feel defeated.

Without getting into details, I've been experiencing this emotion a lot lately. There aren't a lot of people who I intimately connect with, but the ones I do, I truly love so much. I was on the phone with a friend who was in tears because of trials that have been going on in his life. I knew there was nothing I could do or say to make the situation better. The only sensible thing I could think to do was weep with him while somehow also being a rock for him. It's hard to explain, but I could feel my heart breaking with his.

It seems like whenever someone comes to me with a problem, I feel like I have to fix it. I can imagine it'd be pretty annoying to have someone talk out of their ass and offer advice about something they had never even experienced. I need to stop doing that. I wish other people would stop doing that.

I guess there are times when it is okay to put our white flag up and surrender our emotions. It is okay to realize that some things in life are completely out of our control. It is okay to trust. It is okay to hope.