a moment of silence

these are times of extremes, times of remorse and ruination. let me explain.

i destroyed gladys, my faithful car. she was named after the wonderful, life-giving missionary in china who rescuded thousands of orphans from the hands of japanese soldiers. like her namesake, gladys the car was frugal and plain to look at, with an engine of gold. i loved that car. two of my friends got into accidents in that car, and i myself got in one. i loved not worrying about it; gladys was ugly to begin with, and nothing could destroy her.
nothing, i guess, but me.
i forgot to put oil in her. i wish i was kidding, but i thought the orange flashing sign meant that i should go to jiffy lube soon to get oil. a simple mistake killed the one car who treated me right.
last night me and krispin felt gladys a shutterin' and a shakin' on the I-84. i prayed over her, but gladys only made it to the foster road exit. she died right outside the new copper penny at 11:03 on a wednesday night. it was the first time i ever had to call my dad in the middle of the night to come pick me up, and he was gracious as usual. i was extremely grateful for krispin and his being male, because no girl ever wants to be stranded on foster and 82 at night.
today, i realized what life is like without a car: stressful. i drove my mom to work, took krispin back to school, met with my professor to make sure i wasn't failing my ethics class, got some coffee to calm my nerves, and drove to gladys to meet the tow truck driver.
he was very nice, with shorts and white socks and black tennis shoes. he had on a large oversized shirt that said "Sith happens", complete with a picture of the dark lord.
i followed him to the auto shop, paid up, and went to pick up my dad at his office. on the way, the shop called me and told me that gladys was gone for good.
i walked into my dad's office feeling like i was 16 years old, and as soon as i saw him i burst into tears. i sobbed out my story and he reacted as he always does when confronted with one of the extremely emotional strannigan women: he took me out to lunch and we discussed my new plan of action. i forget that my dad never, ever gets mad in situations like these. and it always reminds me of how poorly i understand grace.
krispin commondered a car and came out to clackamas for moral support. and we proceeded to have the best afternoon. i took care of everything with the auto shop and got my car ready to be taken by the wrecking company. we ripped up the dashboard, which was fun, and then went back to my house for 3 episodes of the office, tacos, and sitting in my room in the friscallating dusklight.

i feel strangely taken care of. i don't know why it feels so strange. maybe i am just realizing after all how not in control of my life i am. it feels good.
well, pretty good. i still am poor as it is possible to be in my demographic.

love, actually

tomorrow is wednesday, my somali day, and i am dreading it.
things are happening, change is in the air, and i don't like the way it makes me feel. i am beginning to become a little bit afraid of everything.
it is that fear that is more like a nag, a quiet little thought that is firm and gray as cement and that lodges itself it for the long haul. luckily, i am busy all of the time and rarely have to confront my cement thoughts, but they have started to pile up and i can't escape it any longer.
i fear comittment, i fear dissapointing people, i fear i have no traits of character, i fear that i talk to much, i fear that people are bored with me, i fear not being taken care of, i fear money in all of it's forms, i fear pointless responsibility, i fear not being nice, i fear people not liking me, i fear not listening to christ ever.
i think the last one is the one i need to worry about the most, judging by my list.
last week halima didn't want to hang out with me. she went and did homework with other kids and volunteers instead. i was crushed. the other two girls hung out with me in the apartment and told me all of the nasty things that other kids had been saying about me.
this too, was crushing. before, i had been untouchable, "danielle the volunteer" a friend and somewhat minimal presence in the lives of most of the kids at kateri. but now, it is okay to say that they hate me, that i am mean, that i am a christian (in a nasty way), that my morals are not pure. it felt like a little death. my reputation had been killed.
"well," i said, sighing when the girls told me, "what did you say to these kids that were talking about me?"
"oh," said nadifa, "we say, 'danielle is not like that, she is not that way'".
"thanks," i said. "thanks for saying that. because it is not true. i am not that way."

i know that this is spiritual battle, hands down. i stumbled upon a shady koran school at the complex and shared the easter story in the space of a few weeks. i'm not stupid. i knew there would be some recompense.

and here it is, i guess. i am here, living in my fear, befriending people who increasingly don't want to be my friend. i love them so much that it feels like i am losing some of my closest friends, and it's true. i see those girls more often than i see many of my friends.
but i can't shut down. i can't be cemented like this, in these thoughts. i will cling to this love that i have, the love that is somewhat poorly mirrored on what i have recieved from christ.

i'm crying right now, but i am taking it as a good sign.