Sadako Sasaki

Located in Seattle's University District, Peace Park is a memorial to Sadako Sasaki.

Sadako was 2 years old and living in Hiroshima when the atomic bombs were dropped. She consequently developed leukemia and, in the hospital, began making paper cranes.

The Japanese saying is that one who folds a thousand paper cranes will be granted one wish. Sadako only made it to 644 before dying. She was 12.

Sadako's story is a symbol of the perils of nuclear war and has been used to promote peace in many parts of the world. The paper cranes that people draper over her statue symbolize the yearning for peace that exists in this world.

Bohemian Rhapsody + Muppets

= AMAZING

Flip Side

A little while ago I wrote something for Insight for Living's LifeTrac blog. In a nutshell, it was about how our prayers sometimes go unanswered and that we should be ready to pray "your will be done" and actually mean it. Sometimes that is a really difficult thing to do.

Anyways. I bring that up because I want to balance it out a bit. Today I want to talk about something related but different, something joyful. It involves a small piece of the story of my life, which I'd like to share...

I started following Jesus when I was 11 or 12 years old. Since then, I have probably spent more time talking to God about my mom than any other subject. I don't intend to do any mom-bashing, so suffice it to say that she has had some really wild years and that some people, herself and myself included, have had some painful experiences during those years. She comes up a lot when I talk to or listen to God - I have always just felt like I need to pray about her more than other people.

God, I want my mom to know peace that passes understanding. It exists, I've experienced it. But can we please find a way to let her experience it, too? ... I want so badly for her to know how much she is loved. That she is loved far more deeply and completely than the world tells her she is. ... God,  I want to believe that amazing things can happen, but this seems impossible. Maybe she won't ever know that you are the source of these things. Can you somehow make it so that she can feel your peace and love, even if she doesn't know it's you? Please?

I have said these sorts of prayers over and over, with great sincerity, for the past 12 years or so. Then, a few months ago, in mid-August, something kind of crazy happened. My mom simply yet profoundly realized that nothing in this world compares to the love that God has for his children. She completely restructured her life around the love of God and she has an inexplicable feeling of peace about her new life. In a day, 12 years of prayers were answered and continue to be answered.

All of this has left me with my jaw on the floor, completely in awe of God. It blows my mind every time I think about it. I think it will for a long time. It is just so good.

I guess what I'm getting at is that God is good. And he has good plans. We can join in on all that goodness when we talk to God about stuff. How sweet is that?

Last Night: 2 Things

1. There was a storm and it was SO loud! Erin and I couldn't even talk to each other for awhile because the noise was so massive. HUGE house-shaking thunder, HUGE lightning, TONS of hail, TONS of wind, lights flickering... it was awesome!!!

2. I had a slumber party with my bestest friend in the whole wide world. I love Skype! (And friends.)

Slums are real....

http://www.theplaceswelive.com/

This website is pretty incredible... it takes you on a tour of the homes of different people who, for one reason or another, have had to make lives for themselves in slums, which are housing a higher and higher percentage of the globe's population every year. Life in the slums is very real and I think it is worth our time to take a look at the way over a billion people are living today.

Stirring

I used to really ache for those who suffer. I would literally lose a lot of sleep crying for and praying for those who live in extreme poverty, those who have little freedom, those who are suffering from the world's injustice. I have been lamenting the lack of that sort of empathy in my life for several months now. I want to be compassionate, but I feel so hollow. I don't know where that part of me, which seemed so abundant in the past, has gone.

The other night I was reading a book called Gracias: A Latin American Journal by Henri Nouwen. One of his journal entries stirred my hunger for justice back to life a little bit. The emotions I went through when I read this section gave me a taste of what I used to feel like nearly all of the time. It is a tough, good feeling.

True prayer always involves becoming poor. When we pray we stand naked and vulnerable in front of Our Lord and show him our true condition. If one were to do this not just for oneself, but in the name of the thousands of surrounding poor people, wouldn't that be "mission" in the true sense of being sent into the world as Jesus himself was sent into the world? To lift up your hands to the Lord and show him the hungry children who play on the dusty streets, the tired women who carry their babies on their backs to the marketplace, the men who try to forget their misery by drinking too much beer on the weekends, the jobless teenagers and the homeless squatters, together with their laughter, friendly gestures, and gentle words - wouldn't that be true service? If God really exists, if he truly cares, if he never leaves his people alone, who is there to remind him of his promises? Who is there to cry out: "How long will you frown on your people's plea? . . . Turn again, we implore, look down from heaven and see. Visit this vine and protect it, the vine your right hand has planted. . . Let your face shine on us, and we shall be saved" (Ps. 80)? I feel that in a world rushing to the abyss, the need for calling God to the task, for challenging him to make his love felt among the poor, is more urgent than ever.

A friend of mine was talking today about how convicted she feels to do whatever she can to help the "least of these." She was so passionate and spoke with such conviction. It reminded me of my former, better self. I miss the old Ashley.

Mr. Spots!

I finally made it down to Mr. Spots Chai House in Ballard. Mr. Spot's is the original home of Morning Glory Chai. Morning Glory is such a tasty spicy chai. I'm not exactly sure why they call it Morning Glory, but the first time I drank it, I had such pleasant dreams that I woke up feeling really great. Morning glory! The Chai House is pretty great. When I walked in there was a lady in one corner with a massage chair set up - she was giving free back massages. I also got a free slice of homemade pizza because it got a little too crispy for them to sell.

This is a great place to come on a drizzly Seattle Sunday afternoon.

While I'm on here, I suppose I will take a moment to share the little piece of writing I did for Insight for Living's LifeTrac blog (coordinated by the one and only Robyn Roste). Anyways, the writing piece... Here it is!