It’s a melancholy Monday.  Hell, it’s been a melancholy week.  I’m reminded daily of how blessed I am, but it doesn’t make it any easier to get past some of the emotional junk that creeps up on me when I’m not looking.

I do feel more organized though.  Last night I ditched out on tennis and volleyball to do some laundry and straighten up the apartment a little.  It’s amazing to me that Allan and I have been in our new place for almost two months now.  There are still boxes of unpacked crap sitting around, which obviously means I have way too much stuff.  I’ve slowly pulled away from the commitment to live simply and the conviction to turn back towards that lifestyle is growing stronger by the day.  I live a lifestyle of plenty and can easily afford to give up many of the objects and wants I have so easily elevated to a status of need and possibly even worship.

My heart is pretty torn right now with thoughts of my grandma.  I know that she has struggled for the past couple of years with her health, but being confronted by the reality of death is always a sobering thought.  The most recent news is positive, but I know at any point I could receive that call from my dad with the news that I’ve been expecting since Wednesday when I found out she was back in the hospital fighting pneumonia again.  I keep wondering if I should head home now to be with her, but part of me has hope that she is going to pull through just like she has in the past.  Watching her health steadily deteriorate over the sporadic trips out to the farm in the past couple of years has been heartbreaking, and watching my grandma’s will to fight the inevitable has just compounded to make my heart heavy every time I walk through the door.  The DNR has been signed and her intentions are very clear to everyone, which means it probably will just be a matter of time.  Knowing the stubborness of my grandma though, she may just surprise us all.

Of course all of this is compounded on the emotional junk associated with being single and surrounded by wonderful women who make my heart go a little crazy every time I take a minute to collect my thoughts and ponder possible futures that would develop if I would just find the fortitude to put my thoughts and feelings out there.  And by fortitude, I mean I need to check my equipment and make sure it’s all there.  Part of me wonders if I’m just nervous to possibly screw up a great friendship or two, or if it’s just me being insecure.  This whole dating thing sucks, by the way.  And it’s expensive.  Part of me wishes we could go back to the time when the parents of a daughter would give her to another family to wed their son, along with cattle, goats, and other assorted livestock.  How did we allow ourselves to create the current dating scene in the first place?  I blame it on the hippies…. mainly Jake.

What is it in life that allows our humanity and our connection to the human fabric to be severed, allowing us to turn a blind eye to the pain and the suffering of those around us? For the past few months, a mantra/mission statement has been repeated in my head and by those around me; Love God. Love People. Nothing Else Matters. This paraphrasing of Jesus’ teaching in the book of Matthew can be found in numerous church mission statements and even on t-shirts proudly worn by my friends associated with the service organization Mission Year, but how does that translate into my daily life?

It is so easy to claim that I have already done more than my brothers and sisters sitting comfortably in the suburbs. I took the step of moving to the city, even moving into Humboldt Park - a neighborhood I was strongly advised to stay away from because of the rough element. But as I look around and see the growing numbers of professionaly dressed white people driving new cars and buying $750,000 condos, I have to confront the fact that I appear no different to those who have lived in the neighborhood for at least a generation. I’ve moved in, not because of the cheap rent, but for much deeper reasons. Can I honestly say that I’ve made an effort to get to know my neighbors in an effort to dispel the appearance of my contribution to gentrification? The answer is an awkward, “yeah, but…” I have no problem talking briefly with the nice Puerto Rican couple two houses up that seem to water their yard 23 hours out of the day, but branching out has not been a purposeful act as of yet.

The biggest problem with gentrification is that the new residents who are driving up rent and real estate prices is that they expect the neighborhood to change and conform to what they are used to - slowly pulling corporate America into the cozy haven of low-income neighborhoods sitting on valuable property. I don’t want a Corner Bakery or a Starbucks or a Bar Louie in my neighborhood, but that’s exactly what Humboldt Park is heading towards.

Meanwhile, I struggle with a possible calling to ministry. I convince myself that I don’t have the resources to start a seminary education, but yet I feel like God is telling me over and over again to rely completely on Him - something that rocks my very core. I watched the made-for-tv movie The Story of Ron Clark last night and I was forced to confront the memories of the kids I’ve worked with in the past and wonder if maybe I’m on the wrong track. I watched the movie last night, getting so caught up in the lives of the kids portrayed in the incredibly cheesy Hallmark movie - but I couldn’t get away from comparing the lives of many of the characters to kids I have worked with in the past. The girl who is incredibly talented, but is so saddled down with family chores and obligations that she’s unable to realize her potential - so she reacts by rejecting her talent completely. Then there’s the kid living with deadbeat foster parents, rejecting trust and any kindness shown to him, teetering on the edge of falling into the court system, but showing just enough to give hope to those who are willing to see it. I know dozens of kids who match these descriptions and it makes me wonder…

So yeah, anyway… I don’t want to damage my reputation as the tough guy-type, so I won’t bring up the fact that I may have choked up a little at different points in the movie.