[in progress]

the right reverend jon anderson.

2007-06-06T17:58:00.000-07:00

my fiance preached on galatians 5 over memorial day weekend ("how to lose your freedom"). he's hands down the coolest guy ever.

check him out here. what a hottie.

off the blogroll.

2007-06-06T16:52:00.000-07:00

i received an email last week from my good friend laura warning me that i'm about to be removed from her blogroll ... so i think it's only fair that i write an "aloha" blog, a piece that lets my remaining blog audience of, well, laura, know that i'm exiting the blogosphere for a little while but hope to return to the world of the written word after i've conquered some of these big hurdles currently in my path.

i'm not sure if "hurdle" is actually the right word, to be honest. because "hurdle" implies that these things are jumpable, and while some of them are, most others are certainly - and thankfully - not.

for example, work has me involved in the move of our current building of 40,000 square feet into a building three times that size. so i get to be part of the process of determining finishes and furnishings (fun) and keeping the clipboard of all other odds and ends (not fun). if you've ever helped manage a move this size - and have only done it as part of your job - you know how ridiculously huge the task is. really, the more i have to think about, the more i feel like i'm no longer thinking. that's the hard part. i'm nearly certain that the amount of detail stuffed in my mind will result in an early onslaught of alzheimer's. i'm nearly certain.

to be fair, it might not seem so overwhelming if i weren't trying to juggle so many other plates. be warned, friends, that if you plan on getting married, you're doing more than preparing to spend your life with the one you love; you're actually accepting a second job. tell me, who has time in their schedule to visit reception sites? to book hotels? to call the tent rental company for the third time to confirm that they are actually going to send her the invoice so she can PAY them? or to not only remember that she needs to send her best friend the brown paint color swatch so she can buy a bridesmaid dress but also go to the post office and buy a ridiculously overpriced 41 cent forever stamp and put the swatch in the mail? who can do all of this?

but while we're spinning plates, let me add another. jon & i just bought a house. it's great - we love it. it's a pale yellow 1950s 3-bedroom ranch with hardwood floors throughout. since our closing on the 31st, we've been painting the kitchen at night, and i've been packing up my apartment in the mornings before i leave for work because i'll move in this friday. our first mortgage payment is due july 1st, and because i've never paid that much for rent in my life, the idea of paying a mortgage that big regularly has so overwhelmed me that it affects most of my thinking. which is a really good thing, i think. i'm forced to put into practice all the things i've been reading about in "the irresistible revolution" and all the things i've been learning from friends who live simply, who live in a way that acknowledges that this isn't it.

i think it's okay to buy a house. in fact, i think it's a good thing. i'm excited to have a home that can be a gathering place for friends, for strangers, for neighbors and the like. i'm excited to live in a home with the man i love most and share our dreams and our pots and pans and our bed together. i think that's great. but it's a new world - a world of gardening and mowing and light fixture changing and painting - and it costs money. so i've become even more conscious of my lifestyle habits. sure, i cut back to one latte a week from the 5 i was enjoying per week in chicago. but now i've cut back to just a small cup of coffee once a week. i know it doesn't seem like a big deal, and it's hardly life changing. but i think it's easy to spend money thoughtlessly, and i don't want to live like that. i mean, i don't want to live caring a lot about money either. i don't want to pinch pennies. i just want to live in response to what i believe about life. i want to live responsibly.

hmmm ... i know i'm getting off the subject. i'm the queen of bunny trails these days. my thoughts go in one direction while my point is 180 degrees the other way.

what was point again?

really, what was my point ...

it doesn't matter. my mind is a mess. i've turned 78 even before i've blown out the 27 candles that will be on my cake this july.

and that's why this blog is my aloha blog, my see-you-soon blog, my let-me-save-you-from-reading-the-jumbled-mess-of-gobbly-gook my-scattered-brain-will- probably-produce-in-the-next-few-months blog.

i may post pictures of my incredibly precious niece or nephew to-be when baby is born within the next week or two. and i may post a few brief comments while jon's in honduras this summer. and well, i'll actually post another blog in a second with a link to the sermon jon preached over memorial day (i can't even begin to describe how proud i am of this man). but besides all that, this blog may remain a bit empty. so if you like, laura, i won't be offended if you take me off your blogroll for a season.

aloha.

visual dna

2007-04-25T15:42:00.000-07:00

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

it cannot rain forever.

2007-04-09T08:50:00.000-07:00

i tried journaling this morning, but was not satisfied with the time it takes to write with pen. so now i'm trying blogging. forgive me if these thoughts are a jumbled mess. i don't know if i understand them yet either ...

i'm burdened to write, "when it rains, it pours" but something very little in me is fighting to quote an old chinese proverb: "it cannot rain forever."

deep within my heart, this is my ongoing struggle. should i be hopeful or hopeless? is there more reason to hope or more reason to despair?

i believe in resurrection, and i believe in eternal life. so i hope. but i am here right now on earth at this time, and i cannot figure out if there is sufficient reason to believe things will ever change if we are left only to human devices.

jon, our friend matt, and i went to see blood diamond last night. it was bloody, it was painful. i made it through hotel rwanda and invisible children without sinking to the floor of the theater, but this one just put me over the top. if you're able to overlook some of the poor writing ("in america, it's bling-bling, but here, it's bling-BANG"), this is another powerful and excruciating story from africa.

i hate writing this while i'm drinking my skim latte and looking across the street at quality townhomes built on manicured lawns in a quiet neighborhood. what am i doing? is this how i respond?

just last night before we watched the movie, i was retelling a conversation i'd had with a friend, highlighting complaints made by said friend that i felt displayed how misaligned his priorities were. it was the kind of conversation that bewilders me. but i can't point the finger at him alone; i'm guilty of removing myself from the realities of this world just as much as he is. what is wrong with us??

for better or worse, i empathize very deeply. and so i let this movie rock me. i feel like working so hard that i can buy the biggest plane there is and fly right down into any number of african countries and pick up as many hurting and scared and frightened people as i can and take them to safety. meanwhile, jon thinks about how we can start making forward-thinking choices right now that will be good for everyone. yes, i'm really happy that we didn't get a diamond engagement ring, and yes, i'm glad that we're not buying a house totally out of our budget so we'll owe a bank our lives, and yes, i'm pleased that we're planning our wedding wisely.

but god, it's not enough. please, come back soon.

a third friend of mine died two weeks ago, and another friend's husband has just asked her for a divorce, and i wonder, god, where are you in this?

if my life is not a radical demonstration of god's hands and feet in action, i do not want my life. i can come to no other conclusion than this.

give ear, o god, and hear; open your eyes and see the desolation of this world. we do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy. o lord, listen! o lord, forgive! o lord, hear and act! lord, it cannot rain forever.

"seems i'm never tired" ... and other evening thoughts.

2007-04-05T16:15:00.000-07:00

it's thursday evening - maundy thursday evening - and i'm sitting at my desk at church. this is the hour i like to write, and this is the place i like to write.

i used to write at this time a lot when i lived in chicago. i'd be in between the regular work day and the obligatory alumni board meetings, processing my day of bizarre lunchtime conversations with kirsten and anticipating an evening of bored board members discussing events they had no enthusiasm for anyway.

i'd leave those meetings, walk west on north avenue to the sedgwick stop with my ipod faithfully providing the soundtrack to my city life. i'd walk down that platform past the apartment building to catch the skyline view of the sears towers and its neighboring buildings. i'd breathe deep and close my eyes trying to remember that sight.

i still remember it. i can even smell the smoggy city air, the cta in the summer. i can picture the jehovah's witness in the morning, standing with his watchtower magazine open and pointed at anyone who might dare to catch his eye. i miss him.

and still, i left chicago. all because i fell in love with a boy.

i moved because i believed life would be better. it's the same reason i left minnetonka after high school. it's the same reason i left madison to go to chicago. i believe life is better with jon than without him.

i think love is a pretty incredible thing. what crazy things it makes you do. does it make sense that you'd give up your dreams for another person? does it make sense that you'd learn to speak another language not your own just to try and try and try again to tell that person you love him? does it make sense that you'd consider someone else before yourself?

no! but why does it feel so right?

because it's better to be with him than without him. and i can't explain that. even when it takes all the energy i have to figure out how to love him, and even when i fail most often in front of him, and even when it is not the easiest way to go, i still want to love him. i still want to. and i want to make that commitment.

hmmm ... and how right is it that nina simone's "seems i'm never tired of loving you" should be playing? what a sweet thing ...

Darling, you're always needed
And your tenderness is needed too
And it seems that I'm never tired loving you, loving you
never was a feeling stronger
aching for the sweet things you do
and it seems that I'm never tired loving you
should the mountains crumble to ashes
and the rain should cease to fall
and if the river stopped its flowing
and if the clouds cover the sky
so the sunlight wont come through
I will never, never, never, never, never,
never, tire of loving you.

a plea to keep your engagement short.

2007-04-05T07:16:00.000-07:00

i don't know what it is about me lately. if i weren't 26, i'd wonder if i was beginning menopause because of all the weird hormonalness i feel. but there's really no excuse - i've got no hormonal changes happening, i can't blame it on PMS, and i'm certainly getting enough sleep.

is this all just the wedding?

i've started to step the planning up a notch. and maybe that's just what's been so awful. i feel like i'm going to fail, like this is just one gigantic moment to show everyone i love that i don't know what i'm doing. in the back of my mind, i know i'm trying to plan this to show my mom that i'm good at being in charge, that i have really incredibly warm, smart and interesting friends, that i am not a failure because i work at an evangelical church, and that i'm actually an adult now who's able to make good decisions on her own.

and is it really my mom who thinks those things? or am i trying to prove it to myself?

it seems like it'd be a hundred times easier for someone else to plan the wedding, so i could show up on the day of and not carry any of the responsibility for it being everything or nothing like anybody would have forseen it.

instead, i'm trying to figure out if a wedding reception that ends at 10 pm is necessarily lame, or if i want to risk potentially awful august weather and tent a piece of land that won't have much in the way of "real" shelter nearby. i have to figure out if i want to spend more than $400 on a dress i'll never wear again in my life or if possibly staining said wedding dress with bbq at the reception is worth it.

as for the decisions that jon and i make together, well, why i get so frustrated i don't know. it frustrates me that i get frustrated. do i actually care whether or not the wedding party is introduced by an mc when they walk into the reception? no! but instead, i withdrawal from him. and inside i'm thinking, "are you kidding me, mary? be a grown up!" but argh! nope, it's the silent-treatment girl that wins out - if even for a few minutes. and then i know jon is frustrated with me when i get that way, but as soon as i feel sorry for making him feel that way, i feel frustrated that he'd be frustrated with me when i'm the one who's initiating this wedding planning. seriously, i need someone to shake me ...

you know what i want more than anything? i want to fly down to los cabos, mexico on that $189 round trip ticket with jon and our intentions to elope, and when we get there, all 300+ guests will be there, waiting to surprise and celebrate us. i wish i could pray so hard for it that it would just happen.

and people wouldn't be pretending to enjoy the moment, they'd really enjoy it. they'd make new friends, they'd dance with strangers, they'd build bonfires and play games.

maybe my problem IS that i'm planning this wedding for too many people. what would happen if i planned this wedding for jon? what if i planned a party for him that made him say, "wow, this woman really loves me"?

hmmm ... maybe i have been totally focused on the wrong thing.

if it's something you do, maybe you'll think about praying for me in these next four months as we go through details. maybe you'll pray that i plan something that says "i love my husband" and not "i have to prove something to everybody else" or "i have to prove it to myself."

i'd appreciate it.

phew ... thanks for letting me vent.

practicing

2007-03-23T07:25:00.000-07:00

This morning, I am reviewing my reading of Christine Pohl's book. What a beautiful and inspiring challenge ... but those kudos do not do her justice. I am determined not to brush this book off so quickly.

Bear with me, these entries will be short. I am compiling my thoughts elsewhere for the time being, but as I write, I find myself longing for someone else to journey with me here, to discuss, think, and help develop these ideas.

Pohl writes that the distinctively Christian contribution to the hospitality tradition is its emphasis on welcoming the vulnerable, the poor, and the needy. And who are the vulnerable? They are those strangers who are "disconnected from basic relationships that give persons a secure place in the world. The most vulnerable strangers are detached from family, community, church, work, and polity."

Who are those strangers in my neighborhood and community? Who are they in yours? And what might be required to help these people find a place? I'd love your thoughts and feedback.

I recently purchased the study guide which accompanies this book, and am grateful that it has helped me contemplate and consider my next steps. I admit that I love riding the high tide of passion, and believe it's my own immaturity that prevents me from actually incorporating the practices of jesus into my everyday life. I feel gripped lately, like I've been taken from my complacent, angst-ridden, big-talking, "this world isn't what i thought it would be" twenty-something lifestyle, and asked to confront the things in my own life that speak nothing of the God I claim to worship.

it's the irresistible revolution, it's making room, it's conversations with our worship pastors and co-workers, it's moving toward marriage and understanding that the decisions we make today will influence our decisions tomorrow. it's watching a church community grow and wondering how many will become disciples and how many will remain consumers. it's spending time with women older than me, listening to their stories and appreciating the wisdom that experience has granted them.

i'm thankful. and i'm compelled to put these ideas, these passions, and this study into practice.

in making room, the demand to consider hospitality as a skill, gift, spiritual obligation, and practice is clear. and there are so many opportunities to incorporate it!

in the 4th and early 5th centuries, John Chrysostom urged his parishioners to make a guest chamber in their own houses, a place set apart for Christ - a place within which to welcome "the maimed, the beggars, and the homeless."John Wesley and the 18th century Methodists recovered the practice of shared meals when they instituted love feasts. Love Feasts! Maybe you laugh at the idea of such a term, but to provide simple food, and to provide a context which allows a close union of widows, of the poor, of vulnerable strangers, and of those who are already connected to community - well, bring on the love feasts!

My study guide asks the question, "what makes hospitality in the home difficult or worrisome today? What makes it important?" I'll be answering that question this morning. And if you care about hospitality, I hope you'll consider it as well. I invite your thoughts.

hospitality is resistance.

2007-03-14T11:31:00.000-07:00

in what is turning out to be one of my new favorite books, making room: recovering hospitality as a christian tradition, christine pohl quotes from john calvin on hospitality:

we should not regard what a man is and what he deserves: but we should go higher - that it is God who has placed us in the world for such a purpose that we be united and joined together. he has impressed his image in us and has given us a common nature, which should incite us to providing one for the other. the man who wishes to exempt himself from providing for his neighbors should deface himself and declare that he no longer wishes to be a man, for as long as we are human creatures we must contemplate as in a mirror our face in those who are poor, despised, exhausted, who groan under their burdens ... if there come some Moor or barbarian, since he is a man, he brings a mirror in which we are able to contemplate that he is our brother and our neighbor: for we cannot abolish the order of nature which God has established as inviolable.

a few good things

2007-02-27T15:36:00.000-08:00

i'm home sick. and since nobody wants to hear about it, let me instead make a list of a few good things in my life right now:

brett dennen. jon and i took in the show last night at the orpheum. for $7, we took in 2 openers, brett dennen's band, and nearly 4 hours of solid music. i loved it. i bought one cd last night, and downloaded the other one on iTunes today. i highly, highly recommend his soulful folk tunes.

gracious friends. i've been a bit absentee for a while now, and the friends who've allowed me time to get my act together and welcome me back into their lives lovingly have encouraged me greatly.

the end of february. the snow on sunday was fabulous, but i am desperate for sunny days and warm temps and flip-flops.

arrested development, season 1. i think i will recuperate from this sickness well with all of season one's episodes a click away.

making room: recovering hospitality as a christian tradition. recommended my shane claiborne of "the irresistible revolution," i have found this book so inspiring both for my own life and for my line of work.

a group of friends who invites me to pursue the idea of intentional community living. these discussions are on my mind often, and i am grateful for their insights, thoughts, and planning.

and, of course, i know that including one's significant other may seem silly, but there is not a day when i don't feel grateful to be with someone who cares about me and knows me so well. we can argue and i can be annoying, but jon is really committed to being faithful. that blesses me. and to come over tonight to make me soup and be company when i'm feeling down and out? that's pretty dang awesome.

anyway, back to getting better.

Ode to Shelly & Mark

2007-02-15T15:24:00.000-08:00

I've known Shelly since we were in middle school.

She wouldn't let me read her horoscope out of Teen People;

she wasn't interested, she said. And she didn't believe in those things.

I thought that was strange.

But I was friends with her anyway.

Things are just like that in middle school.

In high school, Shelly came to camp with me.

She was the only Christian I knew and the only one I knew who'd be willing to suffer through an awful week of youth group activities and maybe enjoy it. Maybe help it not be so bad.

That week changed my life.

And Shelly became my best friend.

We did high school together.

We took car rides in her Bronco and talked about boys we liked.

We struggled through junior year prom season together.

(Those memories are still so vivid)

We dominated Sinkler's english class with Lance & Cullen.

We talked about God.

We discussed friendship and sisterhood.

We lounged on beach chairs in Shelly's driveway.

And even though she was never so sure about my high school boyfriend,

she still empathized with me and encouraged me when we broke up.

After graduation, it was a tearful goodbye.

I remember one night in college,

on the floor of my freshman year dorm,

down on my knees in front of the mirror,

crying because my heart hurt so badly to be far from her.

Nine years later.

Shelly and I have seen each other through

moves,

jobs,

apartments,

boyfriends,

boys we just call friends,

deaths of friends,

struggles with God,

anger,

joy,

impatience,

and lots and lots of love.

And then a big love:

Mark.

Mark really loves Shelly.

Shelly really loves Mark.

And this Saturday, I get the privilege of standing beside her

supporting her

encouraging her

and witnessing a covenant between my best friend and her big love.

This is so cool.

God bless you both.

(and let's go camping this summer, ok?)

cartoon mary

2007-02-03T09:31:00.000-08:00

thanks for this idea, jon. here's me as a cartoon ... incredibly accurate, i'd say.

visit www.weeworld.com.

book club

2007-01-24T06:54:00.000-08:00

the book club met this morning. and so my mind is swimming with thought. i'll try to get all i'm thinking out on this blog as coherently as possible ...

newbigin's last chapter, speaking the truth to caesar, is completely marked up in my book. there are underlines, exclamation points, stars, and notes in the margins (let me pause here to give thanks to mrs. sinkler for encouraging notations in our senior year reading materials). the third chapter is full of such powerful rhetoric, that i not once, but many times, audibly encouraged newbigin to "preach it!" for example ...

"the free market is a good servant but a bad master. it is not necessary to argue the point that, if we take the human family as a whole, what is experienced as freedom by a minority is experienced as bondage by a majority. adam smith himself recognized that free markets would only work for the common good if certain moral principles permeated society."

"i have the impression that the local congregation has too often been regarded in the best ecumenical circles as something which needs to be dragged along rather than as the primal engine of change in society."

it's exciting stuff. it makes me long for change and growth and truth. but there's a passage that weighs even more heavily on me, and as i left the room, i kicked myself for not mentioning it before we parted ...

Both objectivism and subjectivism are ways of evading personal responsibility for knowing the truth. And if this is so, then the call to the Church is to enter vigorously into the struggle for truth in the public domain. We cannot look for [security in a restored Christendom]. Nor can we continue to accept the security which is offered in an agnostic pluralism where are free to have our own opinions provided we agree that they are only personal opinions. We are called, I think, to bring our faith into the public arena, to publish it, to put it at risk in the encounter with other faiths and ideologies in open debate and argument, and in the risky business of discovering what Christian obedience means in radically new circumstances and in radically different human cultures ...

In a society where agnostic pluralism reigns, freedom is understood to be the liberty to do whAt you want provided it does not interfere with the freedom of other people. Freedom is the absence of limits ... A society in which any kind of nonsense is acceptable is not a free society. An agnostic pluralism has no defense against nonsense. So while a committed pluralism values freedom as the necessary (though not sufficient) condition for grasping the truth about the real world, the fundamental relation between truth and freedom is that enunciated by Jesus, when he said, 'The truth shall make you free.' That saying, we remember, provoked the furious anger of the hearers, who affirmed that they were free already and did not need anyone to set them free. Jesus tells them that they are not free until the truth makes them free, and they respond by threatening to stone him. When we affirm, as the Church must do, that freedom is not the natural endowment of every human being but is something to be won by acknowledgement of the truth, and that in the end the truth is something given in the sheer grace of God to be received in faith, there is bound to be anger. There is bound to be the feeling that the free society is once again threatened by dogma. I think the Church cannot evade the sharpness of this encounter.

I have re-read this passage at least a dozen times. What is it that stands out so much to me, that shouts to me like a warning, an admonishment that I hang my head about my faith, afraid to mention it in the public square for fear that I'll be viewed as a Crusader bent on power and domination? Newbigin is right - the Church cannot evade the sharpness of this encounter (his following discussion assesses the New Age movement's understandable popularity in questioning the whole foundation of our culture as well - a discussion which I'd very much like to address, but have neither the time nor the typing prowess to do).

I am overwhelmed with thought, and know I need more time and dialogue on the subject if I take seriously the implications of his thesis.

But I am hanging my hat on words from Newbigin's book, words said many different ways by many different authors, singers, scholars, etc, words that resonate with my core so deeply that I feel my very being was born to acknowledge them:

It is the very heart of the gospel that it both gives everything and requires everything.

maybe steve jobs stole my shoe, too.

2007-01-22T16:12:00.000-08:00

i am easily irritated. it's not my best quality, i admit. i don't just let things get under my skin, i let them gnaw on my bones.

this morning, my day started off well enough until i found that someone (an apartment neighbor? a guest at someone else's home?) had stolen one of my favorite pair of brown leather boots. not two, so i could understand that they were so full of lust that they had to covet the pair for themselves, but just one, so that i am left with one, a reminder of what i once had, but have no more.

a little chomp on my bones.

then i tried going to the mac store in town to ask them to explain to me why in the heavens above my battery on my 8-month-old macbook has died and is refusing to be even recognized by the operating system.

the store, a simple 8.5"x11" white piece of paper in the window of the door noted, had to close for the morning due to unforeseen circumstances. of course. when i finally find some time to get to the store, it was closed. of course.

i try not to talk to jon in moments like this. i know his strength isn't empathy, and his good fix-it nature wouldn't find a solution for this little dilemma, but i was already out on the west side and intending to go over to his house anyway ...

so i did what any angst-ridden, peace-desiring, twenty-something ought to do. i listened to kirk franklin.

a remake of al green's "lovely day," kirk has the ability to talk to me, calm me down, and encourage me to throw away the threat-filled letter addressed to steve jobs.

i listened to it on repeat in the car about 4 times over until i felt ready to be presentable and nice enough to ring jon's doorbell.

so the afternoon was relaxing. i finished a book which finally showed it had heart (it took two very long, mind-boggling, philosophically-oriented chapters to reach a place where i felt the author at last considered the soul of humankind) and ate lunch at a little tacqueria near jon's house. relaxing.

i dropped him off this afternoon so he could go work out and i could try the mac store again.

it's now 2 hours later. the mac store guy told me i really ought to call my apple care people first. i prayed that the sinking of these new teeth into my bones wouldn't hurt too much. so i sucked it up and went home to call apple.

the long story short? 70 minutes later, there is no resolution to my battery problem, but there are a couple of new issues: 1) my itunes problem i've had since day one is part of a larger keychain access issue 2) i can't download other online features because of this issue, too 3) my phone bill is officially over its monthly limit. steve jobs is stealing my patience.

and so, the first conclusion is: i hate things. everything that has cost me money has brought me more trouble than i think it's worth. maybe i will sell all my possessions. when jon and i get married, i think we may actually have to live in a tent, an old, used and donated tent. maybe we'll just register for used stuff, if we have to register at all.

the second conclusion? what does it matter if i'm bothered? i've been given crazy resources! i've been given a home and a family and a phone to call long distance if i need help and clean water and so many good things. i hate that it takes broken things to remind me that i've been given so much.

i think i feel pretty dang grateful that God's more patient with me than i am with Apple.

hi nerds

2007-01-03T09:05:00.000-08:00

i'm glad you're smart. because i have a favor to ask.

i just joined a book club of people way ridiculously smarter than me. people who are interviewed on npr and people who speak to thousands of others on a weekly basis. i am neither interviewed on npr nor asked to speak to large audiences. but i did get an A in Non-Verbal Communication at the UW. maybe that's why i get to come.

regardless, we're reading this book, truth to tell, by lesslie newbigin. i have to read it in the presence of my fiance, who is also ridiculously smarter than me, so that i can ask him to explain what the issue fought out between Arius and Athanasius was and why it was so important to the formulation of the Trinitarian formula (say what?).

it's a tough book. it forces me to examine some of my own bad theology (see actual conversation between me and jon below):

discussing descartes's philosophy:
me: okay, so on the basis of knowing nothing, descartes begins with his own existence ... and comes up with, "i think, therefore i am."
jon: right.
me: so his critics then question whether descartes exists, which leads them to wonder whether god exists.
jon: mmhmm.
me: "i think, therefore i am." i don't like it. but "i feel, therefore i am, " THAT philosophy i could get on board with ...
jon: wow, you really are ....
me: totally illogical, i know.
jon: i didn't say it.

so i like it. i like being challenged to really ponder, consider, evaluate. and here's where my favor comes in. i need you to ponder, consider, and evaluate, too. i need your feedback. i picked a few of the most interesting (to me) lines from the book. would you just pick one or two or all and tell me what questions it makes you ask, or what kind of response you have to it? it would help me out A LOT.

1. to abandon hope of speaking truthfully about reality is to abandon the adventure of life.

2. History is always being rewritten - not only because new evidence turns up, but also because old evidence is seen in the light of new experience. The historian E.H. Carr defined history as a continuous conversation between the present and the past. It is only in this way that history becomes part of an intelligible and purposeful life.

3. Einstein says, "what you call a fact depends on the theory you bring to it."

4. In Gibson's tart words, all religions were to the people equally true, to the philosophers equally false, and to the government equally useful.

5. the past 300 years have been the most brilliant in human history, but their brilliance was created by the combustion of a thousand years' deposit of the Christian tradition in the oxygen of Greek rationalism. Now, says Polanyi, the fuel is burned up. We shall not get fresh light by pumping in more oxygen.

6. Revelation is not allowed as a subject for classroom teaching. It is barred from public doctrine. Human origins are a subject for classroom teaching. They are part of public truth. Human destiny is not. It is a matter of private opinion. And if there is no public doctrine about human destiny, there can be no basis for rational discussion in the public forum about what are and what are not proper ends of human endeavor. And when there are no rational grounds for these decisions, the way is open for the sort of mindless fanaticism about single moral issues which is such a feature of our time. Bacon's vision of unlimited power, and the marvelous achievements of technology which have seemed to authenticate that vision, combined with a purely this-worldly scenario for the human story, and in the absence of any public doctrine about human destiny, creates a situation in which there are no checks on the ruthless pursuit of particular ends, moral or otherwise.

Thanks for your feedback.

the after-party.

2007-01-02T07:24:00.000-08:00

i've delayed blogging because the first sentence out of my head to introduce my topic includes the word "hate" - and this makes me feel uncomfortable because a) it's a brand new year and i don't want "hate" to be the second blog word of 2007 and b) because the word hate is so strong i want to make sure i really need to use it. that said ...

i hate the after-party.

for new year's eve this year, some of jon's best college friends (who also happen to be people i love as well) chanced to be in town and landed at my place for the evening. from lunch on sunday with jon and jared to late night cards with jon, jared, and paul yesterday, i felt full for a good 36 hours.

i love people. i love them. i love watching them interact, i love them sitting in my home and talking or watching the rose bowl or questioning career paths or debating abby's feelings about north korea. i love being with people.

and when they leave? oh ... when they go away and my house is quiet again, i feel like my home left me. and i hate it. i just crash. it's the closest i can imagine to what it's like to be an empty nesting parent.

i don't care if i have to spend money to have a party, or if i have to clean my house only to have it get dirty again within minutes. i would clean up after them forever if it meant they could stay longer. besides, my friends don't even make me clean up after them!

red wine was spilled on the floor. did i even clean up a drop? not one! they did it. and did i have to make the chocolate for the fountain? no! jon did it!

my friends are generous. they came with bottles of wine! champagne! apple pie! cakes and pettifours, veggies and cheeses, crackers and hummus! they sit down with people they've never met and strike up a conversation. they learn how to love.

i'm proud of them. i'm proud to know them. i'm proud to be a witness to their lives.

when they leave, i cry for awhile. because it's like getting a taste of heaven and then being told you have to go back to earth for some time yet.

but since this is a new year, and since i don't want to leave on a note of just hating what happens after the party, i'll tell you that i love my friends. i'm lucky. i'm thankful. and that's really all that needs to be said.

the latest engagement.

2006-12-17T20:30:00.000-08:00

i haven't posted for awhile cause things have been crazy ... crazy good.

check out Madison Date Night for the latest scoop.

and merry christmas!

tis the season

2006-11-27T13:29:00.000-08:00

while santa is busy making lists of the naughty and nice kids, i'm making lists to get out of writing any "real" blog entries ... here's the first of the season:

The List of 4s:

four jobs i have had in my life:
1. alumni relations director
2. guest relations at a conference center
3. hospital billing assistant
4. summerfestival camp intern

four movies i would watch over and over:
1. reality bites
2. last of the mohicans
3. french kiss
4. dirty dancing

four places i have lived:
1. ohio
2. connecticut
3. minnesota
4. illinois

four tv shows i love to watch:
1. arrested development
2. the office
3. extreme makeover: home edition
4. oh, i hate to admit this, but jon's reminded me that i can easily fall in love with watching "the bachelor."

four places i have been on vacation:
1. spain
2. switzerland
3. france
4. myrtle beach

four of my favorite foods:
1. filet mignon
2. my mom's cinnamon nut rolls
3. green beans cooked nearly any way
4. alaskan salmon

four places i would like to be right now:
1. south of the border with friends drinking margaritas
2. hanging out at home with my family or at home with the andersons
3. celebrating new years with a few close friends
4. and because it was so ridiculously awesome last night, i'd like to repeat my night with jon, sitting on the couch having my hair pet while watching a girly movie (i love those moments. seriously, i have the best boyfriend).

four books i'd read again:
1. pride and prejudice
2. hinds' feet on high places
3. traveling mercies
4. the kiterunner

four songs i listen to over and over:
1. little blue river/in the garden ... over the rhine
2. complicated ... poi dog pondering
3. desire ... ryan adams
4. satisfied mind ... jeff buckley

four things i hate:
1. raw salmon
2. losing (or just being bad at things)
3. being micro-managed
4. any movie that leaves me afraid of the dark

four random things i love (excluding the obvious friends and family and jon):
1. lots and lots of sunshine (thanks for that one, abby)
2. the perfect ambiance
3. when i feel heard and resonated with
4. passionate and energetic speeches and dialogues

tag. you're it. comment when you've blogged your own four!

you've been dumped.

2006-11-22T08:51:00.000-08:00

i'm at caribou again this morning, working on emails, beginning the book of the week ("sacred cows make the best burgers"), and reflecting on the couple of meetings i've had this week with new friends.

after the incredibly insightful and helpful meeting yesterday with monica whose job more or less birthed mine, i made plans to meet her daughter ("you two are just so much alike!" monica exclaimed between discussions of job responsibilities and growing pains. "it's like i'm having lunch with someone i've known forever!").

andrea is 24, a wife, bethel grad, church planter, and marriage and family therapy grad student. in comparison, i am 26, single, uw grad, church worker, and always considering some form of graduate study.

i wasn't expecting to meet with her today. but her mom was so excited to put us in touch that she made sure to call andrea before i left her office yesterday afternoon and set up a time for the two of us to get together. her mom is definitely the ultimate people-connector. i appreciate that. i even enjoy the fact that it's a bit awkward to have such a random meeting, because it's a sink or swim moment. and i love to choose the swim.

we talked a lot about church planting and church growth and what makes people feel welcome. we talked about our generation and how we feel about church in general. we talked about music and welcome and community. we talked about our fear of megachurches, of what our role is in allowing sunday services to become just a time of happy smiles and networking. maybe it's only the two of us, but i regularly fight the urge to shudder when i see too many happy people.

i think i'm afraid it's fake. or i'm afraid that we shy from being honest about who we are and the things we're struggling with. i also know that i am the queen of social expectations and that it would be frustrating to me, too, if people just moped about when the littlest thing bothered them.

i've been living in this place of tension for quite a while lately. how can we be happy when people are being brutally murdered across the world in wars, famines, preventable diseases? and how can we depressed when there is a Living Hope? how is it possible to live hopefully among the mess of our world?

i feel like someone's thrown me a baseball made of glue. bear with me on this ... i'm just typing this out as it comes to me .... when i try to pull my hands apart, the glue stretches out like an accordian. here's my dilemma ... which hand should i scrape the glue from first: the side representing pain and brokenness or the side representing joy and hope? so i bring my hands together again to use one hand's fingers to scrape the other, but when my hands near each other, the glue is thicker and now there's no distinction between the pain and brokenness and joy and hope.

but now, i see hands together symbolizes prayer. is that it? i'll have to consider this image for awhile.

if i'm honest, i don't really want to pray. i want to scrape the glue off myself. i want to figure out the brokenness and pain and joy and hope. and praying, i feel, requires too much patience. how can i pray when things are happening so quickly? how can i retreat into silence and solitude when there's so much to be done?

and why am i so dependent on ME?

okay, okay. my apologies. i know i've just dumped my brain on you, my unwilling reader. apologies all around. ignore my immature thoughts. i'll work on something light hearted or deeply depressing for next time. unless, in the meantime, i figure out how to write about both at once.

adieu.

if the internet had a neck, i might choke it.

2006-11-21T09:12:00.000-08:00

well, i apologize for having nothing new up here in forever.

i just finished writing a blog that brought tears to my own eyes ... (okay, okay, what doesn't bring tears to my eyes?) and then the coffeehouse logged me off and asked me to re-enter an access code.

ARGH. sometimes i want to shoot the internet.

anyway, i'm heading out in a few minutes to meet with a woman who has my same job here in minnesota. on the list of things i love doing, networking and connecting with people in similar fields is right near the top. so i'm anxious to meet this woman. i'll give you the scoop later.

in the meantime, happy thanksgiving to you and yours!

my heart is in the bathroom.

2006-10-31T16:41:00.000-08:00

if you grew up in a house of girls like i did, you know there's very little that's considered "personal" space. a room can be entered on will (except during those times a door must be locked to avoid a sister who's either trying to bite or scratch your arm or whose chasing demands that you find safety behind closed doors), a phone conversation can be interrupted, and a bathroom can be equally shared no matter what the purpose of its occupants.

i love that. i love when god provides me with the kind of friends that go to the bathroom with the door open. i suppose i think of it more now because for the first time in a long time, i just don't have that.

i talked to my old roommate kat on the phone tonight. and she makes me miss chicago so much. right now, home is not where my heart is. this apartment is great, and i'm so grateful that god provided me with an affordable option that's clean and near my sister and brother-in-law and that i'm thankful that i get to share it with a great girl. but it's still not where my heart is.

my heart is in chicago , walking west on waveland home from work, listening to ryan adams' "friends" on my ipod. it's sitting on our front porch, grilling out with erin and kat and lucas. it's meeting erik for drinks at the hopleaf and talking about life. it's eating breakfast at mitchell's (it will always be mitchell's even if its name has changed) with my favorite waitress deborah talking about her bad back. it's drinking stella at guthrie's, playing connect four and ordering pizza in for me and kat while we wait for erin to arrive. it's taking the el downtown and watching people interact out of the corner of my eye. it's sipping kat's strong, bitter coffee in my mug on the way to clark to catch the #22. it's in my old neighborhood, my old office, my old house.

what prevents me from mourning this loss is that i am simultaneously looking forward to a new home for my heart. i'm eager for the day that my heart doesn't feel like it leaves when he does at 12:30 in the morning when a simple goodbye takes much longer than it used to when we were "just friends." i could go on .... for your sake, i won't :)

so my heart feels like it has two homes, and neither are right here, right now.

i could probably pray something good and right like, "god help me to be content with the here and now." but instead, i find myself saying something more like this:

"god, i want a friend who keeps the bathroom door open."

i know people grow up and mature and get more private. i know weekend retreats like the one i had in august where all of us girls giggled into the night aren't as likely the older i get, when sleep is precious and necessary to a degree i haven't needed since my mom put me down for naps. i know we have less time for each other as we make more commitments, take more classes, pile on more responsibilities.

maybe i'll never get that intimacy again, when someone's day was so important to share that the power of the bladder couldn't stop her from continuing her story. for the first time in my life, there aren't girls angling to get closer to the mirror to apply mascara or moving me out of the way to spit toothpaste in the sink. there are no moments when i'm telling a story in the kitchen and have to sit in the hallway near the bathroom to finish up while erin pees (i was trying to avoid the actual word, but it is what it is, people). it's those little things that - when the drama disappears - i discover at the foundation of my relationship with my girlfriends.

i guess this was really just to thank you, kat. for our conversation, for your friendship, and, well, for leaving the bathroom door open. i miss you.

true of false: penicillin is to sickness as quilting is to writer's block

2006-10-24T15:03:00.000-07:00

i think i have writer's block. or at least i've been using that excuse for awhile. but it's a valid one. i've been thinking about everything lately, analyzing some thoughts to death while others go completely unattended. i'd like to say i'm slowly getting a grip on everything, but then i wonder if i have to knock on wood and there's not much wood near where i'm sitting and i'll get sidetracked if i get up to go find some.

(sigh)

i've been trying to find more time to journal because i realize i've got nothing to put out here if i haven't gotten the big load of stuff down on paper. i've started at least a dozen blog drafts, but never find the ambition to finish them in words. i end up typing a bit, then closing my eyes and imagining the rest coming to an end through a canvas i've painted in my head. i haven't found that words are working for me lately. maybe i should take up painting. no, painting's not me. i try to pretend i'm a mark rothko, but i'm really not. or i am, and then i just wonder what in the world i'm trying to say through my splotches of color. i'm sure mark's saying something, but i'm only really saying "look, i can make thick, straight lines of color." my curved lines look like chapter one of drawing horizons for dummies, so i don't try them anymore.

i've thought about taking up quilting recently, after realizing that knitting may never be an option for me (i can't knit. i tried once years ago in an attempt to prove to myself that i'd make a good mom someday, but i failed miserably. it's too hard for people like me who want to do everything perfectly the first time). but somehow quilting seems possible. or maybe it's because my mom has finally decided to say goodbye to all of our baby/kid clothes. when i was home a few weeks ago, sarah and i took a look through all of our old clothes - nkotb t-shirts, hang 10 shorts, oversized camp t-shirts, all that good 80s stuff - and sorted out what we wanted to keep. she was looking for future baby clothes (that's a trend setter for you; only fashion people in the know understand that what a baby wore in '77 could pass for hip and cool for a baby in '07); i was looking for a way to remember my childhood and decided quilting would be my best option.

of course, i have no idea how to quilt. but the idea of putting something useful together all the while remembering my childhood seems like the kind of project i want to invest myself in right now. i'm not sure if what i'm feeling is an identity crisis, but telling a story of my childhood through old t-shirts sounds just like the kind of artsy thing a non-artist at a lack for words should do to figure herself out as she is now.

maybe i'll stop at the library on my way home tonight and pick up quilting for dummies.

my email from anne

2006-10-11T13:17:00.000-07:00

i could never live in portland. or seattle. or anywhere that rained really frequently. unless i had been born and raised there, i think living there would be disastrous for me. i'd have to survive solely on their coffee and music scenes ... okay, so maybe it wouldn't be a disaster for me ...

it's rainy like portland here today. and after trying to take down 3 really, really bad cups of coffee at work, i felt the weight of the day come down on me.

thankfully, i'm finding that i work with a loving staff (how many people can say that?). i don't know whether she noticed me about to break or if someone had brought me to her attention, but my boss soon dropped by my desk and asked me to pop into her office where i promptly divulged into tears: what am i really doing here? do i belong? is there room for me?

why i cry so easily is beyond me. it's a clear sign, perhaps, that i'd make a terrible actress. i feel rather transparent at times like that, and have to fight off deep and wide insecurities when i leave that person with whom i've just been so revealing.

this afternoon, i received an email from an old coworker who was responding to a note i'd sent out to my address book about this new position i'd taken at church. anne and i were pretty close at work. she's much of the reason i fell in love with my old job. i remember coming in for my first interview and hearing her before i actually saw her. i hadn't yet walked around the corner but i could hear this honest laugh and the jingle of the bells on her long, hippie-ish skirt. anne had beautiful, long, dark brown hair. she didn't like to wear her shoes in the office. she and i bonded over the fact that we both had moms who were spanish teachers. we loved music and talked about how much we'd like to go to see austin city limits or bonaroo. even though she was in a much different life stage with a husband and two kids, we liked each other.

i always felt i was honest with her about who i was. she knew i was a christian, and i appreciated her interest in her jewish heritage. we genuinely liked each other.

her e-mail today expressed how truly happy she was for me in my new job. but her next paragraph was a surprise:

I visited the church's website. It looks like quite a busy place! Although I have to admit a strong knee-jerk reaction to anything mission-like. I strongly believe in freedom of religious thought and in the beauty of religious history and tradition. Missionary efforts if not to erase local religious culture, traditions, and history, then to, at a minimum, significantly and permanently alter them. They approach their constituents from a position that their religion is superior to others - that their way is the right way. This attitude, quite simply, has been used to justify innumerable atrocities over the course of human history - all in the name of God. Furthermore, no God I can imagine would support a one-size fits all, my way or the highway, approach to "redemption" or simply being goodliness. I've always been puzzled as to why more religious groups wouldn't be interested in providing services and resources free of "religious" charge to the recipients.

Wow. Didn't mean to land on that soap box. I know that you are a very respectful, honorable, and ethical person. And I completely respect your religious conviction. And know that you, of all people, have a great deal of respect for others.

Her e-mail makes me sad. It makes my heart break. I imagine Jesus hearing this, and before everything, thinking about how much he loves her, and then his heart breaking over all the pain that missionaries have caused in His name, and then, then when she says, "no God I can imagine would support a one-size fits all, my way or the highway, approach to 'redemption'" that he would think, "is that what you call My sacrifice?" And then does His heart break again, wondering if she is too offended by "religion" to talk to Him herself? Who will love Anne beyond religion?

...

Back in the office, my boss listened to my questions as I gasped for air between sobs. She nodded sympathetically. And she affirmed me, told me I was wanted, told me she wants to help me succeed, told me that she's excited about me being here. Told me I belonged as I am.

...

I want to say the same thing to Anne. That I like her as she is. That I'm not trying to take anyone's local culture or her traditions from her. That I wish to God Christ-followers had a better reputation than the one we've got hanging above us, a neon arrow listing the innumerable atrocities the church has committed in the name of God. That I think her friendship has enriched my life. And that whether or not she believes it, I think God wants to love her to Himself, that He wants to bring her freedom from religion, that He enjoys her and wants her to have life in abundance.

Jesus, sometimes I wish you'd just reveal yourself to the whole world in person again.

finest hour

2006-09-21T20:14:00.000-07:00

a friend introduced me to nina simone two years ago during a period when we regularly swapped favorite cds. i wouldn't say it was love at first listen; i hadn't been brought up to appreciate ms. simone's type of jazz. but over time, her music became the companion i had until then only dreamed about, the kind of music that isn't simply a soundtrack for a memorable moment or the background noise that shuts everything out so you can record said memorable moment in your journal.

no, ms. simone's music is the kind that demands your attention, the kind you should listen to with your eyes closed, the kind that should usher out your own anxieties and worries and dance around in your head, the kind that should be really listened to. it's the kind of music appropriate for tonight.

after middle school youth group tonight, i was feeling worn out, my throat sore from the midwest's drastic changes in temperature in the past week, my head pounding, and my interaction abilities at an all-time low after a week of group activities. so while everyone else headed towards the union for drinks, i steered home in the quiet rain, eager for me-time.

typical me-time begins with candles. i am a candle-aholic. i love still flames. i love all the light just one little candle can make in a dark room. i have four lit now, two candlesticks and two pillars. i have a cup of hazelnut vanilla tea. and i have nina simone on the stereo. she's only singing out of one speaker since the other got busted in the move, but she sounds just as beautiful.

did you ever see "before sunset"? it's richard linklater's sequel to "before sunrise" with julie delpy and ethan hawke. towards the end, julie delpy invites ethan hawke up for a cup of tea, and plays nina simone. it's julie delpy's impression of ms. simone that i first see when i listen to this cd - she acts a little drunk, her arms bent at the elbow and her hands swinging like puppets from her wrists. she shuffles across the floor, murmuring a bit, lost in the music.

that's how i want to be tonight. just a little lost here under my covers, my candles lit, my tea soothing my throat, and my mind tuned in only to ms. simone.

let me know if you need a night like this. i'll send you my cd.

good night, all.

search and rescue

2006-09-15T11:25:00.000-07:00

there are a tremendous number of little things on my mind, and they've begun to wedge themselves in the crevices of the deeper things. in one way or another, they seemed worthy of being remembered, but i'm afraid i'll lose them inside my head. here's my attempt at search and rescue:

- at my first-ever massage yesterday, my masseuse rachel told me that the number of ounces of water you should drink per day is determined by your weight divided by two.

- semantics definitely set first impressions, but how important are they? i've been discussing this issue with my roommate who has been a bit adverse to the idea of "megachurch," citing the lack of personal attention and intimacy that could be better found in smaller house churches. i argued for the importance, nay, the necessity, of life groups which offer that commitment and intimacy regularly, but i'm not sure she was buying it. then while searching the mars hill church website the other day, i discovered that they refer to their life groups as "house churches." excited, i brought it up to bethany later, and she agreed that that seemed like language she could get on board with ... i guess i have to wonder, how picky do we have to be? i understand the importance of language, but is this just a matter of being PC? or is this the new wave of Christianesely Correct?

- speaking of bethany, she made an excellent point the other day that's helped me better define how i feel about short term missions: "while long-term missions seem to be an investment in a people group or a place, short-term missions are an investment in an individual by those who financially and prayerfully support him or her."

- i've always been a little shy of mega churches, but i have to admit that The Volunteer Revolution by Bill Hybels of Willow Creek has certainly taught me to be less judgmental. I highly recommend it. A little highlight: "It must break God's heart when people come to church with a consumer mindset, content to eat and run. 'Serve me,' they say. 'Teach me. Pray for me. Fix my kids. Counsel my spouse. And if you don't do all of this up to my standards, I'll go down the street and see if another church will pay better attention to me.' I've learned that you can't possibly build a God-honoring church with a congregation full of consumers."

- in just one night of brief sharing, the 6th grade girls i get to volunteer with have changed my outlook on middle schoolers again. when everyone's turn at hot seat begins with the same question, "what boys do you like?" it's like you can almost see how quickly the next few years will go. i can remember liking tony kohmann in 7th grade and walking through the park by my house with him, his friend lenny smoking only yards behind us. and that feels like yesterday. it makes me so excited to get to walk through life with these girls, too.

- and speaking of junior high, i read a quote today about middle school ministry that i loved:
"when our junior high director tries to draft people into youth ministry, he doesn't say, 'i know all junio high kids have a frozen brain for 3 years and they dress weird and they're generally obnoxious. but they need adult supervision. so would you bite the bullet and give me a little help?' he says, 'i've committed my life to a group of people who are in the most crucial three-year period of life. MTV goes after them. most of the marketing for offbeat products and destructive lifestyles is directed toward them. they haven't yet developed the inner spine to make their own choices, so they're very impressionable. if you want to make a huge impact on vulnerable kids whose future hinges on the decisions they make today - if you really want to make a difference with your life! - then join our junior high ministry.'"

- on another note, jon suggested i record a list of all the unspoken rules i hold (and have had to break since dating him) regarding dating relationships. i've had to address them a couple of times, and really don't know where they came from. but here's my list thus far:
1. all couples should look alike.
2. all men should cry if they're really in love.
3. when standing across the room at a party, all boyfriends should find moments when they can wink at their girlfriends across the room ... if they're really in love.
4. even if it means being late for something else, boyfriends should make sure that their significant others never feel rushed ... if they're really in love.
5. giving up sleep for the sake of talking well into the night should be something men do joyfully for their girlfriends ... if they're really in love.
6. he should state regularly how lucky he feels to be dating his girlfriend ... if he's really in love.
7. he should be happy to watch chick flicks with you because it means he gets to cuddle with you while watching a movie ... if he's really in love.
man, just writing all of these out makes me laugh out loud and feel a little foolish. i think i watched way too many girly movies in all my years. and listened to diamond rio's "what a beautiful mess" one too many times. ah, well, i'm learning .... :)

anyway, that's it for now. i'm off to journal a bit. thanks for letting me clear my head.

paid to drink

2006-09-05T10:17:00.000-07:00

it's tuesday afternoon, it's beautiful outside, and i've just seated myself kitty-cornered from the wine-tasters at barrique's in middleton. whatever job that is that allows a group of three to sit around a table with six bottles of wine and body postures that suggest they have absolutely nowhere else to be is the job i want.

i am trying not to keep looking at them, but i so want to walk over there and ask how in the world they got to that place.

meanwhile, i am still in the midst of the job search. i spent two hours online this morning, scoping out the madison employment scene and discovering that i ought to have taken courses in nursing or urban and regional planning if i wanted to have an easy-in to the job market here. alas.

but wine-tasting, oh it so hard not to look at them. especially because i'm listening to fleetwood mac's gypsy and the song just makes me want to twirl around like a little ballerina dancer, but i feel that because i've already peeked at them a few times, their eyes are already on me if i move even a little in my seat.

as a side note, have you ever seen the cover of john denver's definitive all-time greatest hits? i mean, it's hard for me to feel like he understands what it means to "thank god [he's] a country boy" when he's posing with his shaggy hair, big, round glasses, and gold bling hanging down on his little skinny-boy bare white chest. unless that's the part of cowboy world i just haven't yet encountered ...

okay, i'm rapidly losing interest in my own blog. seriously, whoever this guy is over here at barrique's has maybe the sweetest job ever. i think he's on hi 7th glass of wine presented by yet another party of two who are trying to woo him to their wines. maybe i'll just start drinking at barrique's and see if i get paid for it, too.

weekend details

2006-09-03T09:53:00.000-07:00

it's been a busy weekend.

starting early friday morning (for a non-worker, that is), jon and i visited the pancake house with paul and kristi, two of the more well-traveled students i've ever met. they were on their way out of town, bringing paul back to bethel in st.paul after a summer in tibet and sending kristi off to swaziland for the year.

i've met paul only a handful of times and this was just my second conversation with kristi, but i so enjoyed hanging out with them that the idea of not seeing them for awhile is pretty disappointing. still - and even if this sounds cheesy - it's pretty incredible to get to meet people who you have such an easy time celebrating. that feels like a gift from god.

later that afternoon, jon and i drove to milwaukee to see our friends sara and matt. the last time i'd seen them was at new year's when they trekked down to chicago for my little bash, so a whole evening of finesilver fun had been long anticipated. i think one of the things i so appreciate about them as a couple is how prioritized their lives seem. what i mean to say is that their couple vibe, as i'll call it, seems fully nonjudgmental. for example, on the way out of madison, jon reminded me to grab a long-sleeved shirt just in case it got cold, so i picked out my favorite one, which unfortunately, must have been thrown in the same load chapstick-washed laundry and so has a couple of wax-y spots. but it's still my favorite. the thing is, i can wear a spotty shirt to dinner at my friends' house because i a) don't think they'd even notice and b) don't think they'd think twice. it may seem like a little thing, but i've spent a lot of time with people who might care (not that they're not allowed - i fully understand the idea behind dressing nicely), so just getting to be FULLY casual feels really fun to me. their non-judgmental-ness shows up in lots of other places too - in conversation about anything, really, when they just seem to appreciate people's thoughts. they're deep thinkers, and being in conversation with people who care about people even more than the things that they're really passionate about is a pretty unique thing. thanks, friends.

the next morning, we left early to have breakfast with laura at alterra. laura, as you know if you've read this blog for any length of time, was an old roommate of mine from college. i've known her for 8 years now, which seems absolutely crazy to me, and feel pretty dang lucky that our friendship has continued to grow and develop over these years. she's a published writer and has a life that should be recorded and sold and on the new york times best seller list. it's fun to be a part of her life.

afterwards, jon and i took a walk out on lake michigan where we learned again how to better argue with each other. i have to say that that may be one of the best signs of the growth in our relationship. i'd always rather avoid conflict, but unfortunately, i have the kind of personality that likes to initiate it (it's my flair for the dramatic, i think). anyway, there was something about our conversation on saturday that felt GOOD. even in the midst of minor conflict, i felt like, yes! this is how you argue! yes!

i just didn't know you could learn so much in one relationship, you know?

so we drove back to madison, and i tried to sleep in the car a bit since i still felt pretty exhausted. i think we've both been tired the last few days - due both to the lack of sleep and the lack of doing the things that energize us the most. like jon needs exercise - a good run or bike ride - to think, i need to journal. i actually like to think that you can tell if his head is clear by how much he's sweat the same way you can tell if my head is clear by how much i've written.

sunday afternoon, then, while jon went for a long bike ride, i drove out to the arboretum, threw down a blanket and spent some time journaling in the fellowship of crickets, ants, and butterflies.

it feels good to know what can make you feel like a whole person again.

while i was out, i read my little oswald chambers book. i've tried reading this devotional a couple of times, but his writing style has never been something i'd thought beautiful enough to stick with ... until sunday. so that's what i want to share with you:

"He that believeth in Me ... out of him shall flow ..." (John 7:38)
Jesus did not say - "he that believeth in Me shall realize the blessing of the fullness of God," but - "he that believeth in Me out of him shall escape everything he receives." Our Lord's teaching is always anti-self-realization. His purpose is not the development of a man; His purpose is to make man exactly like Himself, and the characteristic of the Son of God is self-expenditure. If we believe in Jesus, it is not what we gain, but what He pours through us that counts. It is not that God makes us beautifully rounded grapes, but that He squeezes the sweetness out of us. Spiritually, we cannot measure our life by success, but only by what God pours through us, and we cannot measure that at all.

i'm still thinking about this, still reveling in the beauty of how it's written and what it implies. i keep seeing that one sentence in my head, and it seems especially appropriate at this time of year, when wineries begin to welcome folks to their grape-stomping festivals. and i think about what violet beauregarde looked like, all big and blueberryish. i don't want to be a big round fruit. i don't want to soak it all in and never let it out. i want to be squeezed.

anyway ... seeing jon after we both felt refreshed was heavenly. i love learning that, too. he is kind to me in so many ways. when i'm exhausted and crabby, i just don't see that. clearing my mind is good on so many levels. i realize i probably can't go on and on about him here, but he is a good man. and i wish for the world's sake that there were more people like him.

that evening, we went over to sara's new apartment and had an awesome dinner with peter, kara, sara, and joanna. and then got to take all them and sara's roommates out to mini-golf.

i love that just writing those two lines makes my heart feel full. do you ever think about a night that just makes you want to whisper into god's ear and tell him how much you love people? and then he laughs, and whispers back to you how much he loves them, too? and then you just laugh with him because joy! you both love people!?

my dream of heaven looks a little like that. like throwing a big party where everyone dresses up and eats incredible food and dances to music and plays games and walks out on balconies over looking cities and gazes at stars. and me and god get to watch them and talk about them and feel like, yeah, look how much fun they're having!

okay, i realize i'm totally digressing. i really need to not drink so much coffee while i'm writing my blog ...

anyway, i hope your weekend was as wonderful.

a blogging affair

2006-08-30T13:43:00.000-07:00

i'm dedicated to missmaryb.blogspot.com, i am. it's just that i've found another. and i've started spending more time there. if you lived in madison, you'd understand.

actually, if you do live in madison, you should check it out: www.madisondatenight.blogspot.com.

enjoy!

i wonder what it will look like when it's done.

2006-08-25T09:59:00.000-07:00

i love a good thunderstorm. and the past few days in madison have been full of them. both yesterday morning and this morning i've sat in my cozy little family room drinking coffee and picking at my cinnamon-raisin bagel while watching the skies darken and lighting bolts shoot across the sky. my lamps are flickering a bit now, and my mind is searching its recesess to remember where i unpacked and put all my matches.

ben harper is good company on my itunes for this, but i'm tempted to retreat to the beach boys again. maybe it's just the stark contrast of happy beach boy music to this all-encompassing grayness, i don't know. regardless, i like the memories that "god only knows" conjure up.

it's hard to believe that it was over two years ago that i flew into miami and drove down to key largo for my friend liebe's wedding. there were only about 30 of us who spent 4 days together laying on the beach, sipping cocktails at the pool, and taking boat rides at sunset - all to the soundtrack of the beach boys' sounds of summer album. it was unforgettable.

on the day of their wedding, chris stood up at the edge of the water, squinting as he looked up at liebe descending the stairs to the rhythm of a steel drum. my feet dug into the sand and out again as i joyfully wiggled my toes in excitement for the two of them.

that night, we danced on the beach to caribbean-styled music, all of us with shoes off and drinks in hand - grandparents, aunts and uncles, moms and dads, all of us.

i loved those four days.

----

i haven't seen liebe in months. she moved out of chicago, too, and up to a suburb of milwaukee about a year after they were married. so we're both here in wisconsin now, both missing the windy city a little, i'm sure. it's incredible to me how quickly things can change. one day you're lounging at the pool with your boyfriend, and the next day you're married. one minute it's thunderstorming, and the next the skies are clearing and the humidity is retreating. one moment leads into the next into the next into the next. a chain of events - some things that you control, some things that are fully beyond you.

it's a marvel really.

i've always loved watching other people's lives play out, enjoying the small and big changes they celebrate or endure. it seems incredibly beautiful. i imagine what it looks like from god's perspective. what is he making of their lives? and what will it look like when they finish their run here? what story will it tell? i love dreaming of other people's stories.

i'm not so good with my own. but i'm making it my goal to try and be. i've limited my own freedom - moreover, i've limited God's freedom in my life. so here, you can help keep me accountable.

here are the things i want:
i want a job where i get to be with people, where i get to encourage them and help them discover their passions and help put them in a place where they're doing something that gives them energy.
i want to live financially responsibly, so i spend mula on things that make god smile.
i want to invest in the lives of young people, checking in on them, helping them make decisions, and provide a listening ear.
i want to let god have the first and best of me.
i want to be married and have children and invest myself in family life.
i want to be a good learner.
i want to be in agreement with the things god wants for my life.

okay. there they are. and i'm giving them back to god. i will make a mess of it if i go after those things on my own strength. i know i will. i have so far. so, okay, here on august 25th, i am breathing some freedom into my own life. i guess we'll just see where things go next.

stealing quotes

2006-08-24T08:23:00.000-07:00

via sojo's e-mailed quote of the week:

"I love my church, and I'm a Catholic who was raised by intellectuals who were very devout. I was raised to believe that you could question the church and still be a Catholic. What is worthy of satire is the misuse of religion for destructive or political gains. That's totally different from the Word, the blood, the body, and the Christ. His kingdom is not of this earth."

- Stephen Colbert, of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report

i am not veruca salt.

2006-08-20T12:21:00.000-07:00

it is a remarkable thing how little patience i possess.

really, it's remarkable.

my pastor spoke today on james 3, focusing particularly on being cautious with our words - taming our tongues, if you will.

i should probably listen to this sermon every day, for i am quite apt at speaking my mind whensoever i please with little concern to how it may damage those especially close to me. i often mistakenly call this "honesty" but really, it's my lack of patience, my unwillingness to pause and consider what effect my words will have before i let them out.

like my pastor said, we're often most cruel to those closest to us, giving our best to strangers and guests instead.

i am so guilty.

i felt a litle like Veruca Salt there in church, like i had been caught twirling about in my little red dress with black buttons and a white collar folded outward, light-colored tights, and black, heeled shoes, and screaming "I want it now!" if this last month and a half of instability could be translated to the screen, i'll bet there could be a nice duet about laziness and greed sung by two carolers in the background (remember the singing guys in "there's something about mary"? that's what i'm thinking of ...).

fortunately, i didn't leave service feeling like i'd been tattooed as guilty and then discharged. i guess i felt like laughing. i'm 26 years old, and i behave like Veruca Salt. that is not okay. seriously, i haven't wanted to work for anything. i've just wanted it to be all figured out FOR me. and yet, God is so gracious in all this. i've not known to how to pray, except for "please, God, put it all together for me now ... " with a not-so-subtle mumbling under my breath "... my way. please do it my way. in my time. Amen."

what's awesome is that i don't feel like god looks at me as though i actually AM veruca salt. or that i am actually a 10-year-old little whiny girl. i know He knows all of this. i know that none of this is new. and did I find an apartment? yep. did i find a car that worked? yep. do i have enough money to survive for awhile yet? for sure.

so chris' message sticks with me. that i should be careful with my words. careful to thank god with my words, instead of checking off one thing and going to him immediately to complain about the next. God knows i'm not a little girl, and he doesn't treat me like one. Which I appreciate. he made me with a great brain and some pretty good talents, and with His spirit inside me, I'm not helpless.

and so despite all the similarities, i am not veruca salt. i'm an adult. i'm forgiven. i'm beloved. i can learn to be patient.

this blog is too long. and boring. you should wait till i write something lighter later.

2006-08-08T15:01:00.000-07:00

i've had nothing to say.

i'll be too dramatic if i start to talk about my brand new 2006 toyota having a bizarre malfunction that left me driving two rental minivans while it was being repaired. and i'll probably start crying if i talk about the four suitcases i've been living out of for the past 6 weeks, and how my living situation fell apart after weeks of visiting madison's most expensive slum-lord owned apartments. i don't really want to talk about my credit card being MIA because that means i'll actually have to make another call to another company to fix another problem. and i don't want to even touch the fact that i've got bills to pay and no cent of income.

and yet ....

to be honest, i don't know how to pray about all this. i'm tired. i want someone else to find me a home for cheap, want someone else to recommend me for a job, want someone else to pack up my sofas and my bed and all my stuff in chicago and move it into a cute apartment with hardwood floors and windows that let sunlight in to settle on my family room. i want a home. i want to be settled.

i want to make dinner in my kitchen. i want to cry in my room and journal there for hours without freaking anybody out and asking me if i'm okay with that look in their eyes that suggests they think i might actually be a little bit crazy. i want to have friends over for a glass of wine or a cup of coffee or a brownie with ice cream.

i struggle with god these days a lot. i wonder what i'm doing wrong and if all this is punishment for sin. i wonder if i've made a huge mistake in moving out of chicago. i wonder if i shouldn't sell all my stuff and move to canada.

as i've been typing, three of my junior highers from this past week's missions trip in madison have instant messaged me. they don't know that they're preventing me from despair.

daniel, the oldest of our group of 7, has been online with me for over an hour already. we've talked about high school and camps and friends and how we can create a new IM abbreviation (i suggested "migsmhtdt" which means simply "man, i've got so much homework to do tonight" but all daniel responded with was "lol ... saves lots of time." oh well. i guess internet abbreviations are not my part of my innate gift set). i told him i was househunting. he said he'd pray for me.

i haven't talked about it yet because the week's been so busy, but madison missions might have been the highlight of my summer so far.

65 of us - junior highers and adult leaders - spent a week camped out at the church over night and traveled around madison during the day serving at NPOs like the boys' and girls' club and st. mary's senior care center and the CAC (the only free clothing store in all of dane county). my group was pretty tough the first night to a point where i broke down in jon's office and told him i suck at being with junior highers and i should probably just go home (wherever that might be).

and then the rest of the week happened.

man! i can't tell you how much i love being with kids. i love having them under my care for a week. i love traveling with them. i even fell in love with the toyota sienna minivan i got to drive for the week because it meant i got to cart a bunch of pre-teens around in my car and listen to their young conversations and hear them sing "my girl" at the top of their lungs.

i love camp. i love schedules. i love team-building. i love getting to spend time learning junior highers' senses of humor. i love praying for and with them.

that really doesn't leave me anywhere. these kids can't offer me a place to stay or send my resume along to anyone. and i don't think i'm any good at being in ministry professionally, so that's out. and i don't really want to be a teacher. i don't know what to be. or where to live. or what to do.

there's so summary on this one. i have no way to pull this all together. i'd pull out my favorite ecclesiastes verses, but i'm trying to really be positive - not just pessamistic with an attempt at positivity.

all i have left is "help me." but even that i don't know how to direct.

okay, i'm being dramatic. i know to whom i should direct it, but my level of expectation is so low, i don't know why i should even bother uttering the words, you know?

ugh, really, there is SO MUCH GOOD in my life right now. i got so many birthday greetings last week, and i love spending time with my sisters, and i love how i got to take a week out for madison missions, and i love that sara and joanna made me a paper mache peanut, and i love that jon took me to six flags for my birthday and i overcame my fear of the front row, and i love that laura and fermin took the day off to join us, and i loved seeing katherine sunday night, and i love that i feel like i've got a church family developing.

seriously. i guess the long and short is, tell me a story that gives me hope. or if you don't have one, give me a prettier prayer to pray than the one i've been using below. this one is starting to feel old ....

DIVINELY INTERVENE, GOD. FREAKING DIVINELY INTERVENE, PLEASE.

late july recap

2006-07-25T10:54:00.000-07:00

today is tuesday, july 25th. it is 12:30 p.m.

to my right is barrique's coffee trader, to my immediate left is a patch of long green grass and straight ahead is madison's capitol building, though my view of it is obstructed by a row of tall leafy green trees.

i love summer.

there seems to be lots of car and pedestrian traffic today ... which i'd normally question (don't these people have jobs?), but since my own recent entry into the world of the jobless, i feel like passing out balloons to each person on the street, and offering a congratulations of sorts, a pat on the back to say "yes! you're seizing the moments!" and though today's sweet summer air makes being outside its own reward, i'll join nature and offer what i can to celebrate the people who won't let summer pass them by.

and yet, as i write, i'm oustide using my laptop to search for jobs. so to everyone working today, way to earn your living. i hope you take a good, relaxing vacation this summer. you deserve it.

anyhow, before i move forward, here are the past two weeks in bullet points:

jon came back from honduras (!)
and i got to pick him up in a borrowed mini-van.
i'd never driven a mini-van before.
sarah, chris, jon and i drove west to some friends' cabin in boaz, wi, for a mini-vacation.
i discovered i suck at disc golf.
we met two bats at the cabin, accidentally killing one and freeing the other.
chris can put together the most lavish meals with the most random ingredients. seriously, he has a gift.
jon took me to the american players theatre in spring green two nights in a row to see thornton wilder's the matchmaker and then shakespeare's romeo & juliet. they were both really excellent.
and a former faculty member of the school i used to work at happened to be playing the role of lord capulet.
on julie's suggestion, we spent friday in viroqua at a coffeeshop. it really was in the middle of nowhere. i loved it.
saturday night, maria and mike got married in one of the more creative ceremonies i've seen. congratulations to you two :)
later that night, the new drews shared that clinking of glasses would, yes, make them kiss, but they'd also be pulling names from the hat of other couples who would have to "out-do" the newlyweds' kiss.
for the record, i think jon and i were the only non-married couple "picked."
for the record, i think it is illegal that a dating couple should be asked to "out-do" newlyweds.
tonight, i will be staying at the 6th home of the month. my current conditions are excellent, and i dare anyone to tell me that a papazan cushion on the floor is not just as comfortable as a "real" bed.
yesterday, god sent toyota salemsan clayton to me and i am happy happy happy to say that i am now the proud owner of a silver 2006 toyota corolla.
i am also now the proud owner of car insurance.
though i admit my pride in insurance ownership is a bit overshadowed by my conversation with the state farm lady who told me of all the many possible ways i could die or injure someone. her assurance that state farm would cover the vast majority of all possibilities did little to distract me from the stories of past accidents.
alas.
today, i am going to edgewood for an information session on their graduate programs.
i am excited to find a job.
and a house, too.
i'm excited to celebrate my birthday on sunday. and i'm loving that jon's sisters and mother, and my baby sister are all celebrating birthdays within weeks of me. i LOVE birthdays.
tomorrow, i get to catch the last concert on the square. and after managing to make it to opera in the park on sunday night, i am feeling that i am reclaiming my summer.
i love summer.
i hope you are loving it, too.

more soon.

a mi me gusta el verano.

2006-07-13T12:48:00.000-07:00

top ten reasons i love summer:

1. i really love all things water-related. i love outdoor pools filled with chlorine. i love sitting indian style on the floor of the pool and pretending to have tea parties. i love sitting outside in the sun, slathered in sunscreen and sweat, and then jumping into the pool to cool off. and i love vacations to the ocean in the summer. i love wave-jumping, and sand castles, and all that the shore brings.

2. i love humidity. when the weather is so thick it sticks to your arms and legs and back, and you can only laugh at how dirty you get the second you walk outside into it. i remember once when the humidity made the heat index unbearable in college, and erin and i slept on the floor as close to each other as possible but still separated in order to share the only two fans we had in our apartment. i remember making a run to the freezer and bringing back bags of frozen peas for us to put between our legs and behind our necks. it's so gross, but it's one of my favorite memories.

3. i love how long the days are, when the sun gets me up before 7 naturally and won't go down for at least 12 more hours. everything seems to move a little slower in the summer.

4. i love driving with the windows down and the music up.

5. i love when you're driving out in farm land and you can see all the steam/mist rising up from the fields at night. it's gorgeous!! it reminds me of a very romantic anne of green gables moment.

6. i love getting tan.

7. i love that i'm excited about the next season. there's no other time i feel that strongly. i love summer and i love that fall comes next, so it's a very happy time for me. when fall gets here, i love fall, but i don't super look forward to winter. and winter is so long that it really seems pointless to be hoping for spring. and then spring never really comes; it's suddenly up 40 degrees from the day before and voila - summer. but now, now is when you can be grateful that it's not cold and dreary anymore, you can be thankful that summer brings all this daylight and you can look forward to the changing of the season come fall. it's a glorious time!

8. my birthday is in the summer. and it's an excuse for me to get my friends together and celebrate life.

9. summer just reminds me of playing. of freedom. of later bedtimes that don't make you groggy in the morning. yay!! i love summer!!

10. summer in the midwest is simply miraculous. maybe because we have such long winters, we appreciate summers in a way other people might not. whatever the reason, summer is the best, the best, the best. YAY, SUMMER!!

as it should be.

2006-07-10T13:56:00.000-07:00

it's been nearly two weeks since my life was stable (i.e. living in my own apartment and receiving a regular paycheck for my regular hours at the 4-year-old job). in the past 12 days, i've made my home at 4 different houses belonging to friends who have graciously allowed me to camp out for a bit in their living rooms.

the reality of all that is temporary is seeping into my bones. anything and everything that won't go with us when we die seems awkwardly heavy and annoyingly frustrating to bear.

i have luggage. three bags that i've filled with t-shirts and shoes and shorts and skirts. i have a hair dryer and a curling iron for those days when i want to feel as though i can look respectable if i want to be. i have two books - hurt: inside the world of today's teenagers and the devil in the white city. i have a notebook and two hats. i have shampoo, soap, a razor, and face wash. i have contact solution and a toothbrush and - as it happens - two different deoderants (in case one's not doing the trick?).

all of it is too much. i think this because i have been wearing my swimsuit all day. i put it on this morning in hopes that my brother-in-law could drop me off at jon's apartment's pool after i dropped off jon's car at the shop. it was about 62 degrees this morning, so i had to forego it. i did find time to lay out in the strip of grass outside chris and sarah's apartment building though. i love swimsuits. i really could live in mine. i don't want to worry about clothes anymore. or any other stuff in my suitcases.

yep, all of it is too much. even all my thoughts seem to be too much. or not enough. i can't figure out where one leads to the next.

erin, laura, and i attended the midwest social forum this past weekend. i attended seminars on immigration, faith-based organizing, spoken word for youth expression, and fair trade. my mind began to explode at the seams, so i skipped the rest of the seminars to reflect.

we learned that fair trade cofee represents only 1% of world coffee consumption, that Starbucks is the largest retailer of fair trade yet their fair trade sales only account for a percent or two of their total profits. why is it necessary to buy fair trade? it's FAIR.

FAIR. i look at that word and hear one of the participants words echo in my mind: "should a label on a product have to say 'fair trade certified'? does that not imply that everything else is unfair? would you buy a product that says 'this product will return unfair wages to workers who are overworked already?"

we are a messed up world. we have immigration problems. haliburton just signed a contract with our government to receive $400 million to build prisons on our southern border. we've already spent $30 billion on border patrol. we screwed over workers in Mexico and Central America when Clinton signed us up for NAFTA. after taking their jobs from them, we want to punish them when they try to find a life in the States that stole their jobs from them in the first place? we want to spend over $30 billion to punish? we're already the country that spends the most on prisons of any place. what is wrong with us?

undocumented immigrants in our country have paid as much as $420 billion in Social Security which they will never see. what's worse yet is that 5,000 people have died in the desert due to border militarization in the past 12 years. that's more than one person every day. one human being. one sister or brother or mother or father or daughter or son.

for as much as i love god, and for as confident as i am in his goodness and his promise of salvation from our fallen world, all of this is baggage that drags us down to the earth. no experience of god, no corporate worship moment, no prayer circle or scripture reading lasts long enough to steal our attention from the weight of the world, this awkward baggage that no one person can carry on their own, that no person SHOULD have to carry on their own.

it's all temporary, i know. someday we'll all die. and where i lived for a month without a home and how much money that migrant farm worker in mexico didn't make because i wanted to buy my coffee cheap or how awful those circumstances were for the children in the ivory coast being subjected to law-violating practices by the nestle company, all of that will end someday. we'll all pass through here. it's temporary.

and yet, god lets us live here. he asks us to love him, to love our neighbors, to care about the earth he created, to act justly, to serve each other, to watch for him.

how do i work here as unto the lord and still ask him to come quickly and save us all? i think this living is business is tricky. to be living still when your friends die, or your spouse dies, or your heart is broken, or you can't make ends meet, or you someday realize your life has been easy because you've unknowingly stood on the backs of the poor who've worked the lowest jobs for the lowest pay so you could have the t-shirt you wanted or the nikes you love ... man. lord, help me love you, love my friends, and love my neighbors above myself. help me to pursue justice, to serve others. help me to fight for the oppressed and speak up for those who find no voice. help me to watch for you. and i am still eagerly anticipating your return when you'll make everything as it should be.

you work too much.

2006-07-05T09:18:00.000-07:00

wednesday, july 5th. 11:14 a.m.

i'm sitting at victor allen's coffee shop, catching up on e-mails and reading blogs. i've been here for a little over 2 hours, drinking coffee and picking at my almond croissant. i love having no where to be.

i sent an email to an old coworker this morning, and she wrote back, saying, "Your note made me think of all the great letters I used to get from Steve when he was still living in California. He'd hang out at coffee shops after work and send me letters on the back of flyers that were posted on the walls. They were wonderful! Full of the thoughts from someone who has time to think. As opposed to those working too many hours a day. There was a piece on NPR this morning about how 1/4 vacationers were bringing work with them. The columnist was bemoaning our sorry set of values that don't recognize down time appropriately. And how having outside interests actually improves productivity. I agree."

Do you know how nice it is not to be thinking about work right now? I mean, the truth is, I do want a job that I enjoy. I want to work hard and earn a living. But, I want my sanity. I want to enjoy life in its fullness. And being chained to a desk for 8 hours a day seems wrong. How can I be productive when I'm running behind on doing my laundry, can't catch up with my parents, can't find time to make a grocery list and so just have to buy whatever quick meals I can so I eat something at all? This is not right.

There is too much information out there for Americans to continue believing we need to work this much. An article called "Work Week and Vacation Variances" points out that when the European work week fell from 40 to 35 hours per week, there was no loss in productivity. Moreover, all 15 nations in the European mandate that emplooyees be given a minimum of 4 weeks paid vacation per year. A minimum!

He notes that Americans and Canadians work more hours than anyone else, with Japan coming in second - but even then, Japanese law requires that employees be given a minimum of 25 days paid vacation.

There are so many stats to look at, but a good place to start is with The Simple Living Network. They argue that in any given year by October 24th, Americans and Canadians have worked the same amount of hours that Europeans will work all year. There should be a real focus on taking back your time.

Seriously, not working and knowing I don't have to be back at any office for weeks feels really good. I feel like my mind has been unchained. And I can think again! No one should go through life without a chance to think. That is just plain wrong. So I need to be prayerful about finding a job now. I think i'll say a prayer for all of us, and for our government, that we all learn how to reprioritize and choose LIFE and FREEDOM over obsession with work and overtime.

And if you haven't done it already, go take a vacation. You deserve it.

world cup spoiler alert (in case you're tivo-ing it for later tonight)

2006-06-30T10:38:00.000-07:00

"gol! gol! gol! gol! gol!"

this is what makes watching world cup on telemundo much better than watching it on espn or abc. these commentators rock. well, that and the commercials are a lot better. if the US airs one more AIG commercial, i swear ....

so anyway, we're in the last few moments of the match between germany and argentina. going into the game, i was pro-argentina (i know, maradona should probably be the reason i'm not, but reading about the guy is like reading a real-life soap opera and i've got to thank him for that).

and alemania takes it. final score 1(4) - 1(2) in a shoot-out.

it was a good game. but oh c'mon now, what's this? grown men fighting? fifa officials having to step in and separate the teams? ridiculous.

at the same time, seeing the disappointmnet on the faces of these guys makes even the thought (no matter how true) of "it's just a game" seem like the last thing that should even cross my mind. there are tears, there are blank stares, there is absolute silence from those fans shrouded in blue and white, their bodies frozen in disbelief, not ready yet to move on and accept the defeat of their dreams to realize a world cup championship. no, it's not just a game.

for these guys or for anyone else who cares.

that's something about men that i really appreciate. this brotherhood. this side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder love that they have for one another.

i'm reading this book called love and respect about how women want unconditional love and how men want unconditional respect. i argue with the author a lot out loud in my room while i'm reading it, guffawing at parts i find absolutely ludicrous (especially to my 21st century liberal feminist mind), but often - in spite of myself - coaching myself to continue reading, if not just to challenge and expand my own mind (to be completely honest, it's been a really really good read for me, and i'd suggest it to anyone like me who grew up in a family of girls).

the author (eggerichs) writes about men and their love for shoulder-to-shoulder friendship, how they develop bonds with other boys when they're young and how those male relationships have a large part in defining the kind of men they become.

eggerichs writes, "women share experiences by talking about them to each other, examining and infusing the experiences with their impressions and emotions. men are different. they share their experiences by sharing an activity."

he goes on to share a piece of research i hope you find as interesting as i did:

research studies confirm the male preference for shoulder-to-shoulder communication with little or no talking. in one study, researchers performed a series of tests on males and females from four age groups: second graders, sixth graders, tenth graders, and 25-year-olds. instructions for each pair of females and each pair of males were exactly the same: enter a room, sit down on two chairs, and talk, if you wish.

as the test proceeded, every pair of females, no matter what their ages, reacted the same way. they turned their chairs toward each other, so they could be face to face, lean forward and talk. the males reacted differently. they did not turn toward each other in any way. they sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder, looking straight ahead except for an occasional glance at each other.

because the females turned toward each other or literally turned their chairs to face one another for direct, face-to-face contact, the researchers assumed they would have the most intimate conversations. actually, the most open and transparent of all the pairs, male or female, were the tenth grade boys.

very cool. this is something i am trying to learn how to appreciate. when i'm alone with someone else, i want to talk about experiences, to identify, to draw out thoughts and feelings. i think that's good and healthy, but it's not the only way. and to watch a soccer match and see the emotion and comraderie in that, wow, it makes me feel like men communicate in an equally beautiful - but totally unique - way. good job, men.

and congratulations to argentina. way to play like it's not just a game. you should be proud.

and to germany: the way you love your keeper is the only reason that i feel okay with you winning today. i appreciate your show of emotion. that and the really cool bowling pin knock-down you acted out after your win. that was clever.

sunday drive to solitude

2006-06-26T11:42:00.000-07:00

i'm exhausted today. i haven't been sleeping well, waking up in the middle of the night, and then again sometimes up to an hour before my alarm goes off. i stay there, on my back, eyes closed, hoping my body will forget what the hands on the clock said, and let me sleep as though i'd just laid down for the night.

it hasn't happened.

before i get out of bed, hundreds of emotions have begun their day's work of clamoring for my attention. it makes me feel a bit nauseous. i force myself out of bed, hoping they'll see it as a sign of my intentional neglect and finally leave me be.

...

sunday morning, i got up early and drove out to reindahl park with jon and joel for Day 2 of their badger state soccer games. i wasn't feeling sick of the sport yet - even after watching them play in 3 games the day before and catching 2 world cup games in between - but i knew myself well enough to know i needed serious coffee if i was going to manage two more games that day.

i popped into victor allen's, picked up a cinnamon toasted nut latte, and, not finding the atmosphere warm or inviting, returned to the car to head back to the fields.

there's something about portage road, though, that welcomed me in the way i had expected from victor allen's. there's nothing spectacular about portage within a mile off of east wash. but go a bit further north, and it's full farm land.

i drove over hwy 51 (and what a feeling to drive over the highway! it feels like you're flying above the busyness of routine daily life) and out of madison, through the little town with the 25 mph speed limit, and out past the corner bar.

there was hardly a soul on the road, but the few people i passed seemed as oblivious to the increased speed limit as me. we drove by each other slowly, as though we'd have pulled over to say hi if we'd have recognized the face.

anytime i hit a stop sign, i was tempted to wait, to turn off the car, and stay still.

i was there, only 5 minutes from madison, in the full and natural quiet of summer. crickets were chirping during the day and i could hear them. i don't know if i can quite express the kind of joy that brought. miles and miles of farm country. miles and miles away from just noise.

...

i'm an escapist by nature, i think, inclined to drop everything and run. so when i drove out of the city on sunday, i felt like i had flung open the porch door in my head and escaped out the back, avoiding confrontation with any of those emotions busily banging away at my front door.

i know it's only a matter of time before i'll be experiencing the heartache of leaving the chicago family i love, the joy of returning to a city of academics and environmentalists, the anxiety of looking for roommates and an apartment, the thrill of a month with very few constraints on my time. i'm sure they'll come, and probably all at once, too.

in the meantime, i'm going to practice escaping. no more binge escaping. no, no. i want to practice regular escaping. regular total alone-ness. solitude, i think is what it's called. how is it possible that i so easily forget how necessary solitude is for the soul?

henri nouwen writes in an article on moving from solitude to community to ministry:

It's not easy to sit and trust that in solitude God will speak to you— not as a magical voice but that he will let you know something gradually over the years. And in that word from God you will find the inner place from which to live your life.

Solitude is where spiritual ministry begins. That's where Jesus listened to God. That's where we listen to God.

Sometimes I think of life as a big wagon wheel with many spokes. In the middle is the hub. Often in ministry, it looks like we are running around the rim trying to reach everybody. But God says, Start in the hub; live in the hub. Then you will be connected with all the spokes, and you won't have to run so fast.

Nouwen adds, "Our little lives are small, human lives. But in the eyes of the One who calls us the beloved, we are great - greater than years we have. We will bear fruits, fruits that you and I will not see on this earth but in which we can trust."

Amen. On solitude. On Wisconsin (sorry, I couldn't resist).

radio broadcasting

2006-06-22T08:18:00.000-07:00

WAY. TOO. EXCITING.

this is the first time i've ever listened to a radio broadcast of a game, and i am dying for a tv screen.

53 minutes in and ghana is up 2-1 against the usa.

oh the drama. oh the excitement.

mmm, mcbride!!! no slipping!!

okay, i can't write. my typing is too loud to hear the game fully in my office.

back to the game ... i mean, work.

Lessons from Reality Bites

2006-06-20T18:44:00.000-07:00

it was the fall of my freshman year when i saw reality bites on the big screen (cue ethan hawke's song, "i'm nuthin'"). i was only 14, and impressionable, and honestly believed that college graudation would bring glorious nights without homework, regular card game nights with friends, and relationship tensions that would finally resolve themselves in intimate and dramatic love affairs (only after days, weeks, months, spent agonizing over the heartache of temporarily unrequited love).

it's been four years since i left my college life behind and embarked on this 20-something journey. and while i haven't helped a gay roommate come out to his parents ("PFLAG, I'm beginning to like the sound of that") or racked up hundreds of dollars in phone bills to a psychic friend, i do feel a little of that reality bites flavor in my life.

i don't know where i'm going. i don't have a job. i have to buy a car. i've got couches and bookshelves and no where to put them in my new city. i'm navigating relationships.

i thought i had a pretty good start. i took this great job, and i made great friends, and i was moving forward. i moved to chicago and my world began to move. people around me were going places, i was going places. i moved right along with them. i got a hang of it. i challenged myself to move a little faster, a little more faster, c'mon, just a bit faster now ...

that's when i chose to change my life.

in the past few weeks, i've felt as though my world is suddenly slowing, and i'm unprepared to slow with it. kind of like when running along at a 8 minute mile pace on a treadmill when the thing abruptly slows your pace to a 17 minute mile.

i'm not sure if i asked god for this or if he initiated it, but i am confident that this slow pace is good.

so should i work my butt off to find another acceptable 401k, a job with easy hours ... should i rush into finding a permanent home where i'll give myself to my work for a paycheck that buys me cds and tapastries ... should i rush through these next few weeks? oh, no, no, no.

for just a little while, i need to channel my inner troy dyer:

Troy: One of these days I'm gonna wake up, before noon.
Lelaina: Yeah right.
Troy: I'm gonna turn on the tv and there Bryant Gumble will be and he'll say, 'Today we have with us the Pulitzer-prize winning documentarian Lelaina Pierce. Lelaina, after your first film, 'Why Barbie is Bad', you seemed to have forgotten all about your best friend, Troy Dyer.'
Lelaina: Troy... who? What was that name again? Oh, right through the heart!
Troy: I'll probably be working at Whole Foods you know, playing warehouses and hanging around places like the Radio Shack screaming that I used to know you and you'll be there in the lights and all beautiful and shit.
Lelaina: Oh, Troy, no no no no no, that would never happen. They'd never HIRE you at Whole Foods.
Troy:: See Lainy, this is all we need. A couple of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation. You and me and five bucks.

Yep, I want that to be my summer.

God and me and five bucks. Jon and me and five bucks. My sisters and me and five bucks.

You and me and five bucks. Amen.

real homelessness

2006-06-15T16:51:00.000-07:00

i've been whining inside my head for quite a while.

okay, okay, and i've been whining out loud for quite a while, too.

since march, i've been anticipating my move north to madison. in all that time, the one thing i hoped i'd have settled is far from it. my lease is up in chicago in two weeks, and i will then be officially without a home.

i despaired.

the roommate situation seems to be falling through, and i don't have a job yet that would pay me enough for a one-bedroom, if that's even what i'd wanted. so it seems i might be, as jev mentioned recently, "couch-surfing" for a bit.

or absolutely homeless, as i expressed it to god in prayer, my fist reaching up and then falling on my bed. on my big comfy double bed covered in a pretty purply covered-duvet.

i cringe at the reality of my self-pity. do you know what my house looks like? it's beautiful. in my room alone, i have a computer that sits on my desk near bookshelves and candles and a stereo and lamps and an enormous cd rack. i have two couches and a tv and a coffee table and a pantry full of food.

i am not homeless. and the reality is i have friends who will put me up for a month until i find a place.

so i googled homelessness in america, because the last thing i want to do is deceive myself that this momentary lapse in rent-paying is the same thing as real homelessness, lest i think my suffering is so awful.

if you enter that phrase in google, you'll find that the first sponsored link to your right is from eBay. it looks like this:

Homelessness In America
Whatever you're looking for
you can get it on eBay.
www.eBay.com

sure, the linnk actually goes to book titles along those subject lines. but something struck me as very, very wrong about that little blurb. and not just because i hate that tagline: "whatever you're looking for, you can get in on eBay." (i guess i just disagree.)

anyway, the point is, i thought i'd offer some info about real homelessness excerpted from data listed on the National Policy and Advocacy Council on Homelessness (NPACH) website:

Lack of affordable housing leads the list of causes of homelessness identified by the city officials. Other causes cited, in order of frequency include low-paying jobs, mental illness and the lack of needed services, substance abuse and the lack of needed services, domestic violence, unemployment, poverty, and prisoner re-entry.

An average of 14 percent of the requests for emergency shelter by homeless people overall and 32 percent of the requests by homeless families alone are estimated to have gone unmet during the last year. In 88 percent of the cities, emergency shelters may have to turn away homeless families due to lack of resources; in 79 percent they may also have to turn away other homeless people.

Compared to other children, homeless children have twice as many ear infections, four times as many asthma attacks, five times more stomach problems, six times as many speech problems, and twice as many hospitalizations - inlcuding 60% more emergency room visits.

On average, to afford a modest two-bedroom apartment, a family will have to work full-time at $15.37/hour, which is well beyond the earnings of low-income households.

this is homelessness. see www.npach.org for more information if you're interested in how you can help.

i still think kat would like tequilla in her iced tea.

2006-06-13T20:48:00.000-07:00

my neighbor lucas stopped in tonight to use our computer to fulfill the online portion of a class he's taking this summer. while he worked, i busied myself with laundry and bills, stopping for a second just to see if he needed anything to drink.

what do you have? he asked.

i opened the refrigerator and yelled out to him in the family room. i've got water, orange juice, some of kat's iced tea ...

iced tea, i'll take it, he said.

i'm not an iced tea person - even if kat does make hers of the southern style sweet tea variety which is essentially more lemonade than tea. there's still tea in there. and i don't like that.

but for some reason, i still felt inclined to pour myself a little glass, just to see if perhaps my taste buds had changed in the past few months. it was surprisingly thirst-quenching and sweet at first, but once the liquid left my mouth and descended down my throat, i felt a bit of a burning. this, i thought, is exactly why i don't like tea.

i gave lucas his glass and asked if he felt it burn a bit. no, he said, it just seemed awfully sweet. she must have put in way more lemonades than tea, he noted.

later, after a good long conversation about first boyfriends/girlfriends, first loves, break-ups and dumpings, he surprised me by heading to the fridge for another glass of this sweet, sweet iced tea.

as we chatted, he scrunched his face and insisted that kat spiked the tea. it burns right here, he said, pointing to his lungs. wow, yeah, this has GOT to be spiked.

a few minutes later, lucas headed downstairs to finish work for class and i began work on creating new playlists until erin got home. i laughed, telling her that kat must have done something REALLY weird to her iced tea because ...

"kat doesn't have any iced tea in the fridge," erin said. "that's my cleansing diet drink. it's a lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper concoction."

we laughed. i told lucas over IM what we had been drinking. ahh, if it's working to clean out erin's intestines and colon, we're hoping for the same results.

and maybe i'll try iced tea again in a few months, once this burning has left my lungs.

oh! to be a free spirit!

2006-06-08T12:37:00.000-07:00

it could have been the hour i spent working from home this morning, waking up slowly, sun pouring in on my well-rested body. it could have been the little online conversation i shared across the pond avec jared le francais before noon. it could have been the lunch i had with byron this afternoon, resting against those same concrete steps and talking about risks and danger and joy in decision-making. or it could have been the intimate hug eric gave me in the hallway, after i told him my summer plans included leaving my job and then doing god-knows-what. "that is the best news i've heard all day," he said. "how old are you?" 25, i said. "i was 25 when i left here, too." he smiled BIG. "really, i'm so excited for you. call me anytime you want."

it really doesn't matter. it's just that i feel propelled. i'm feeling sent. what a beautiful thing.

i feel so excited about taking off into the unknown. no, i don't really WANT to work again. i don't really want to be bound by anything. what i want is to sip a cappuccino out on a sidewalk cafe, light a cigarette (i'm not sure yet if i'd smoke it. i have to work up the courage for that), and scribble down my observations of the world around me, absorbing the environment, able to watch people closely because my gaze is shielded under the brim of my wide, warm-peach-colored hat.

oh! to be a free spirit!

god bless the day.

Wiscollywood?

2006-06-08T05:45:00.000-07:00

From last friday's Chicago Tribune Red Eye edition ....

"I'll give you that 40 is the new 30, and after twisting my arm, I'll grudgingly agree that, indeed, pink is the new black. But is it possible that Wisconsin can be the new ... Hollywood? ....

"Let's imagine if Wisconsin had lured away some great films shot in Chicago"

Ferris Bueller's Day Off
Real Version: The kids play hooky from school to spend the day in Chicago, stealing daddy's vintage Ferrari.
Wisconsin Version: The kids play hooky from home-schooling to spend 20 minutes in Whitewater, stealing stepdaddy's horse and carriage.

The Blues Brothers:
Real Version: Jake and Elwood Blues get their blues band back together to save the orphanage where they grew up.
Wisconsin Version: Renamed "The Polka Sisters," Dottie, Louise, and Helga Polka get their polka band back together because, darn, they just miss the gals at the bingo halls.

The Fugitive:
Real Version: U.S. Marshals discover Dr. Richard Kimble is in Chicago by using the latest technology to break down a phone call he makes. The sound of "L" tracks in the background is unmistakable.
Wisconsin Version: U.S. Marshals discover farmer Richard Kimble is in Mequon by using the latest technology to break down a phone call he makes. The sound of cow tipping in the background is unmistakable."

Many thanks to Jimmy Greenfield for the laughs.

Tell me who I am.

2006-06-06T16:38:00.000-07:00

In his book The Signature of Jesus, Brennan Manning writes, "We would be known as [Jesus's] followers not because we are chaste, celibate, honest, sober, or respectable; not because we are church-going, Bible-toting, or Psalm-singing: We would be recognized as disciples primarily by our deep and delicate respect for one another, our cordial love impregnated with reverence for the sacred dimension of the human personality."

Yesterday, a coworker and I took our lunches to the park across the street. There, reclining on the concrete steps by the Abe Lincoln statue, T asked me how things were going with my boyfriend.

"Tell me what he does again?" she inquired. "Youth ministry," I answered calmly, though still a bit nervously, afraid that sharing that fact in an environment quite unwelcome to anything affiliated with religion would sentence me to a month of loneliness in the office.

"Really," she responded thoughtfully. "I'd never have imagined you with someone in ministry."

Our conversation continued, though my mind kept drifting back to that thought: "I'd never have imagined you with someone in ministry." What does that mean?

I had to question her.

"I don't know," she said. "I guess I knew you were raised Catholic, but thought maybe you were just open to anything. I mean, I suppose I think maybe I'm the only one sitting at my desk, thinking about God, or the Creator, or any deity. I suppose I just never thought of anyone else in our office doing the same thing."

This afternoon, I received an invitation to fill out an application for a ministry position I'd sent my resume in for yesterday. The application requires that I ask my employer to fill out a reference form, and answer questions about how my faith affects my work (if applicable).

The point is, if I give it to my boss, I'll be discovered.

Is that awful?

I think I've been loving at work. I think I've really cared about people and taken the time to get to know them because I sense even just a bit of how much God loves them. But my love doesn't seem to tell people that I'm a Christian.

Here's the thing. I'm not a regular church-goer. I'm in and out of town pretty often and don't feel like I've had a church home in all the 4 years I've been here. My bible study broke up years ago. And I don't wear cross jewelry or a WWJD bracelet.

So if I ask my boss to fill out a reference for me, it'll be evident at last. And I fear what he'll think of me. I fear he'll think that I'm all of the bad stereotypes of Christians. I fear he'll think I'm selling myself short for "church work," or that he'll wonder if I'm damning him to hell, or if he'll pity me for considering a position that elicits so little respect from the world at large.

I'm filtering through a slew of questions in my head. Do I want all the glory? Do I want to be the one who helps the "poor" missionaries? Is having a mission-related job something that makes your parents disappointed? Do I desire the approval and applause of others more than that of God?

When I re-read that Manning quote, and realize that maybe no one knows in my office that I am my Beloved's and He is mine, I can't help but ask God if He knows it. Does He know that I'm trying to follow him?

Honestly, yes. That's enough.

I wonder if I need to end this and say that I think as long as God knows that I love him and I'm trying, that I don't need to do anything else. I can't flaunt the characteristics of Christ, and I don't want to carry a big bible all the way to the office just to set it at the top of my purse in case someone happens to glance at it.

I can let go of my fear. God knows me.

God knows me! God knows me!
(This excites me).

If He knows that I'm following him, there is nothing else I have to do. I think people will see Him in us when He wants them to. I like that. Cause then it's not all about me. It's all about Him.

It's much better that way anyhow.

a day at the zoo

2006-06-04T18:12:00.000-07:00

there's probably a list in my room somewhere noting all the places i should visit while i'm still living in chicago and if i ever found it, i'm sure i'd find the brookfield zoo on there.

so i'm checking it off on my imaginary list because erin and i visited the zoo today with melanie, andy, and john.

now, to be honest, i'm not a big zoo fan because a) the smell coming from some of those indoor exhibits stinks like all nastiness, b) the gorillas - of all the animals - look particularly unhappy being showcased as they are, and c) it's too crowded. if i'm gonna stare at animals, i want to stare for awhile, study them, you know? not nod my head to god's handiwork with the zebra, throw up the peace sign and move to the next cage.

but erin really wanted to go today, and it was gorgeous outside, and the brookfield zoo is pretty dang cool.

my absolute favorite animal is the lion. i like his mane. if i were an animal, i'm pretty sure that's who i'd be. we have similar hair. but also because he is a breathtaking animal. the face, the eyes, oh, everything. that is one magnificent creature.

and until i see a zebra, i always forget how remarkable they are. i mean, c'mon! who could have come up with that? they're beautiful.

and this is just for joel and his book, giraffes? giraffes! that he so gleefully shared with joanna et al yesterday afternoon. the book is a very useful guide to learning about giraffe culture. take this excerpt, for example:

You are so behind on giraffes that it's rather embarrassing and you obviously need this book more than health insurance. Things you probably don't know about giraffes - and can only be found in this book - include giraffes' perferred mode of transportation (conveyor belt), what their bodies are made of (paper mache, a clock, fruit juices, and a super-strong lightweight titanium alloy), where most giraffes live (Terra Huate, Indiana - known for many things, including buildings made of wood and ground made of dirt), and basic giraffe history (in 50,000 B.C., giraffes began to hang out with primitive man, they found him to be likeable and helped him paint buffaloes in caves).

Having learned so much yesterday, I felt much better equipped to appreciate the giraffes at the zoo today. For example, had I not read the book, I might have been foolish enough to ask one of the zookeepers how fast giraffes run. But since the book, I know better that giraffes have tried to "phase out running from their lives, but if they had to, they could still run much faster than you. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that they can run 780 mph."

The zookeeper seemed quite impressed when I confessed my expansive knowledge of giraffes. I wonder if Madison's Vilas Zoo is looking for a giraffe expert. Maybe that's my new calling ...

Anyhow, the zoo is a fine place. But I do wish, like my old pastor, that we'll actually get to be near the animals and hang out with them. Cause seeing them through bars is so sad. And when the only interaction you get with animals at the zoo is when they poop on you (see Melanie scraping the bird poop out of Andy's head), it just doesn't feel as sweet and wonderful as say, curling up with a lion and a good book might be. I'm just saying ...

I'll Post Something Good Soon.

2006-06-03T06:14:00.000-07:00

During the winter, I'd consider waking up naturally anytime before 8:30 to be a curse. In the summer, however, it's quite a different story.

While I'm sure my rousing at a quarter to 7 this morning had more to do with the noise Kat was making as she pulled her things together and lugged her suitcase downstairs to the cab waiting below to shuttle her off to the airport, I felt rather delighted to be awakened so early. Not only did it allow me to escape the awful dream I had been having, but it gave me the opportunity to rejoice over the sunlight pouring through my bedroom windows and acknowledge that - here in my city apartment, with the sounds of passing cars and fire engines competing with the calls of birds and children - creation is indeed good.

I do love mornings - especially quiet mornings like this one. I often wish I had a east-facing porch where I could bring my toast and coffee and book and breathe deeply for awhile, stretch my back and my legs, and be thankful. I imagine everyone else in my house slowly filtering out as they please. No one in any rush.

I don't know how often that happens when you have a family. What with games and playdates and picking girls up from sleepovers and running errands to pick up eggs and milk ... I understand that life gets busy. I know.

Yesterday, I picked up National Geographic's June issue on "Why the World Loves Soccer." With the World Cup closesly upon us and a boyfriend pretty geeked about it all, I figured it was time I got it straight. I flipped through the magazine on the bus, learning about the first World Cup in 1930 in Uruguay and that a 1990 match between Zagreb's Dinamo and Belgrade's Red Star may have marked the beginning of Croatia's war for independence. But the thing that caught my eye was a rather personal article entiteld, "Solace at Surprise Creek," an essay detailing the lives of Hutterites in Montana.

"Live simply, share everything, and trust in God," is their motto.

It sounds good, but I'd never want to be a Hutterite. Which is fine by them, I think. They don't encourage converts. An excerpt reads:

"You're wastin' your time," Darius says gruffly into the phone [to the man from Texas who has called several times, persistently seeking to join the colony]. "It's hard enough if you're born a Hutterite. I got guys breakin' the rules all the time. We don't do it and that's that. There don't need to be any 'How come?'"

But the community continues to grow. Nevermind that there is "little place here for individualism in dress, thought, or other personal rights most Americans treasure," the community, I think, offers other things many of us lack: a sense of belonging and work that produces somthing tangible, to name just a couple.

I ran into my coworker's boyfriend on the way out of the office last night, and he asked about my last day, etc., and then finally got around to the dreaded "What are you going to do when you get there?"

I teeter back and forth on this question. Sometimes, particularly with my much older coworkers and friends, I feel confident saying that I have no plan, that I just want to take some time off out of office space. They cheer me on and encourage it. And I feel affirmed in my decision. Other times, I'll tell someone in their 40s or someone my age, and perhaps it's not even in the words they speak in response, but in their tone of voice and the heights of their eyebrows: "You don't have a plan? No Plan B? What do you mean, 'vacation'?"

It's my own fault that I want to be such a people-pleaser and just tell them what they want to hear. That, yes, I do have a plan and I'm looking into grad schools and making connections with uber-successful paper-pushers and checking out what companies have the best 401Ks.

But this is not how I feel. There is no part of me that wants to sit behind a desk and stare into a computer, waiting, waiting to answer questions and pick up phones. No. I cannot do it. It's inhumane. I start to think about the Hutterites baking pies, chopping heads off poultry, shoveling feed and straw, and I admire it a bit.

I just don't want to make it my life goal simply to impress other people or please my parents or brag about my great benefits. I don't.

I suppose I could start freaking out. But I want this month free of that. I want a month to think about what I want to do. Who I want to be. I know there are warnings - you should get a job right away before - pow! - it's been 7 months and you still haven't found a job. But what happened to valuing thought and reflection?

This is a diatribe. Forgive me. It's been too long since I've written in my journal so you're getting the brunt of my neuroticism. My apologies. Just thinking out loud.

i heart photobooth

2006-05-28T05:59:00.000-07:00

just a few of the many reasons i LOVE LOVE LOVE my new macbook. seriously, it's the coolest.

i like this.

2006-05-25T08:54:00.000-07:00

"Gratitude is the heart's memory."
Jean Baptiste Massieu

this heart god made

2006-05-23T13:50:00.000-07:00

j and i have done this before, this no-communication stuff, so it's not like i'm panicking about how to do it now. actually, the day after we decided to start dating (that's a good story for another day), he left cell phone range for a few days to go camping with friends. since then, he's been in honduras for a week and i've been in russia, so being totally disconnected from each other is really nothing new.

none the less, i miss him.

when j went to honduras in january, it was especially difficult since we had spent nearly a full week day in and day out with each other up until his plane took him out of chicago's gray, cloud-covered skies and in to the clear, sun-drenched honduran heavens (j says that if i went to honduras, i might not use the word "heaven" in any context having to do with said country. until then, as with most things i have yet to experience, i'll romanticize it a bit longer to give it the benefit of the doubt).

shelly listened to me whine on the phone soon after he left, advising me to write him a letter for each day he was gone so i'd feel like i had shared with him all i'd wanted to while he was away. i wrote about my job, about my roommates, about a 60 minutes episode i watched, about missing him, about god, about whatever my pen felt so inclined to ink on the page.

the only thing that topped my excitement about giving him that letter was when he pulled out a letter of his own to give me. that was awesome. and as words are my love language, there is little more that i appreciate than a detailed letter. it's even better than e-mail. it seems personal. it seems deliberate. and as i understand it, i'll those words just decode to mean "i love you."

it's really something else to one day realize how much you've grown to love a person. whether you're dating them or working with them or talking with them at church, you one day find that they've lodged themselves so deep in your heart that life without them seems bland and lacking.

just today i got an email from jon's sister, sara, who detailed for me a paper she recently wrote for her women & religion class, a formal dance she attended, and her decision to focus on middle school ministry. i smiled the entire time i read it, thrilled to be learning so much about her life. before she left for south africa (see her blog here), i'd hung out with sara a whopping total of three times. but we've been e-mailing pretty regularly, and as i read her note today, i realized that one of the reasons i'm most excited to move to madison this summer is that she'll be close.

they sneak in there, you know?

i work with a student, michael, who, when i first met him, managed to quickly get under my skin, rather than in my heart. he was already 40 at 16, referring to his peers as "the kids" when he talked with me about the day's schedule of events. he walked as though auditioning for a posture award, his hair neatly parted on his flushed, round face, which blushed a deep shade of crimson whenever he felt frustrated by the group's childishness.

he reminded me of the 10-year-old boy who once "helped" me lead a vacation bible school the summer after my senior year of high school. i can't remember his name now, which is surprising considering how many times i had to yell it during that week (as in "[insert name here]! please do not swing patty around so quickly! she's going to puke again if you keep flailing her about!"). of course, i failed to realize that 10-year-old boys, just because they're 6 years older than the group they're "helping," aren't necessarily any more mature. it seems 10-year-old boys want to assume responsibility in so much as it means getting to be "in charge." i had the rather unfortunate experience of discovering that this meant an increased work load for me, having to train myself to keep a more careful eye on my one 10-year-old than on the twelve 4-year-olds.

and that's how i felt about mr. michael. he bothered me. on our first school trip together, he managed to stay ahead of the group with me the whole time, going over again and again the routes we should take in order to most effectively navigate the subway system to arrive at our destination in good time.

annoying.

fast forward to yesterday afternoon, over two years later. school's been let out for the day, and a few students are gabbing with each other in the hallways, the girls with their skirts too short, and the boys sitting on the benches, leaning their backs against the wall in the same gangsta style pose assumed by nearly every senior boy when he wishes to be perceived as thuggish and manly.

i was walking up to the second floor slowly, letting the sun embrace and warm me through the window panes, when i saw michael walk into mrs. patrick's office just a few feet ahead of me. as i walked by, i heard michael's laugh (it's his man-giggle that gives away his true age) and felt my heart warm when he spotted me in the hallway and gave a wave.

i've gone on numerous school trips with this kid, been with him as he's been recognized for his academic achievements, listened to him nervously speak on any number of world issues, eavesdropped on his ever-slowly maturing jokes, and seen him get nervous when one girl in particular walks in the room.

he's a smart, witty, dork. he's a middle-aged 18-year-old. and i love him.

------

when i think about how capable the heart is of loving, i feel overwhelmed with gratitude that god would make our hearts as stretchy and elastic as they are. it's something incredible when you think your heart is in a comfortable place, that you're giving love to someone here, someone there, that you've finally figured out how you can manage all your love, and then when you've finally tucked everyone in under their little quilts of love, kissed and hugged them, you turn around to find someone else has moved in. and surprisingly, you happen to have an extra quilt on hand, and you see the room has suddenly expanded to allow for this new person. sometimes, it seems like a whole busload shows up at your door and - not even asking for room and board - they make their home in your heart. and STILL, still there is more than enough for them.

this heart god made, one for each of us, is the kind of invention that should win honors. he blows me away.

vote

2006-05-17T15:32:00.000-07:00

i'm thinking about getting a macbook. i thought i'd get an ibook, but it seems the macbook is replacing the ibook. and for the same cost as the 14" ibook, i can get the brand new 13.3" macbook.

but i need your input. to mac or not to mac? i'm thinking of visiting the apple store this weekend, so your timely response is appreciated. gracias :)

the dude with the joy of thousands.

2006-05-16T16:59:00.000-07:00

on the brown line to kimball this afternoon, i held on to the rail by the window, pressed against the glass of the door, trying not to contemplate what kind of spidey-move i'd have to whip out if the doors flung open and i had to swing to safety via electrical lines strung between buildings.

when the el pulled up to the belmont station, i had the advantage of taking in an unobstructed view of the river of people heading west towards the train platform. amidst all the suits and ipod-accessorized 20somethings, the bluechip-implanted business people and flirty teens playfully pushing each other, there was one bearded dude (guy, man, boy - none of those really work here) with backpack and air drumsticks, fully rockin' out to whatever was playing through the orange-size earphones on his head. i tried to read his lips to catch the song, but my train took off before i was able to make an educated guess.

i wiped a tear away as the train pulled north, again professing that my heart is nearly, if not as sensitive, as my skin.

i'm not sure what it is, but i'm trying to find the common denominator among the things that make me cry. take, for example, my brother-in-law's graduation from UW last weekend. a number of schools were represented at his particular ceremony, but it was the school of nursing that got me. when they were announced, they broke out into wild applause and cheers for themselves (shannon told me later that the school of nursing is encouraged to fairly raucous). i was immediately teary-eyed.

for me, cheering, rallying, firework-watching, all of it thrills me. there's something about a bunch of people gathering together for the same purpose with excitement and hope and joy that shakes me with glee. i love it. it's why i'm already crying during extreme makeover:home edition before ty even says, "driver, move that bus!"

but here's this one guy walking home, jamming by himself. so what's the link between the one and the thousands? i think it feels like what should happen when you leave a "together moment." you know, like when you've been at a concert (like U2's this past spring) and you're dancing along with everyone else, and you get home and you're still dancing. like you carried the spirit with you.

it's like this guy had the spirit still with him, like he had a freedom with friends that carried over into his own life.

and to everyone who takes that kind of excitement and joy with them into their own lives, god bless you. it blesses me.

i should have been a beat poet

2006-05-11T06:33:00.000-07:00

i'm up to $3.58 on this internet window, and my goal is to finish before i hit $5. so here's the quick scoop ...

i'm in nyc until tomorrow morning. i've met with some of my favorite alums, had a blast catching up with them, but i need a new catch-all phrase when i talk about leaving. i've totally overused "it was a really hard decision," and need to find something that expresses that same sentiment but in a new way. i welcome your suggestions ...

besides that, i couldn't sleep last night, so i watched fever pitch 1 1/2 times (actually, it's very good even with drew barrymore, and i think i might be developing a crush on jimmy fallon. funny guys are just charming). then lay in bed waiting to fall asleep.

this morning, my morning meeting was cancelled, so i'm headed to starbucks to do some work while i wait for my lunch appt with a fashion designer. i decided on an all-black ensemble today to avoid any judgments on my clothing (all new yorkers accept fully black outfits as the standard, which i fully appreciate considering how much black i actually own). it makes me feel a little morbid, but it's rainy and gross outside, and it fits my new york mood. actually, everytime i go to new york, i crave a pipe. i mean, i feel like i should be wearing all black, smoking a pipe, and journaling furiously, and drinking beers underground. i should have been a beat poet.

anyway, $1.25 later, and it's time for me to go.

more later ...

though no banff, i say the dunes are worth the trip.

2006-05-08T07:48:00.000-07:00

late morning saturday, jon and i drove to beverly shores, indiana to visit the dunes. since neither of us had been there before, we stopped at the visitors center where the volunteer guide, clad in his full khaki forest ranger uniform, directed us to a few trails - the ever impressive .7 mile mt. baldy trek and the 1.8 cowles bog hike. i instantly felt guilty for dragging us 90 minutes from chicago for that ... for a measly little walking time that'd last us not even an hour at a snail's pace.

fortunately, the dunes are steep, and walking up a sharp incline on sand is not quite the same as taking a tour on an even path.

once we got to the top of mt. baldy, we took in a surprisingly beautiful view (you just couldn't look to the right - there's a huge nuclear plant - or behind you - a maximum security prison). but the rolling dunes and the surprisingly small number of tourists and the sunny, clear skies made it absolutely worth the trip. it felt good to see the chicago skyline sitting so little across lake michigan, like even for as big and busy and powerful as that city is, it's not so impressive or interesting from across the lake.

we spent a little while there, ate our lunch of wheat thins and raisins, and set off on the cowles bog trail.

if you take the trip, don't turn around in the beginning - i promise the trail does get fun. it starts off really plain and simple, and pretty unattractive actually. you're walking along a power plant with all these wires hanging above you, trying to be interested in the two swans swimming in what can only be totally contaminated water. but as you head towards the beach, you'll be surrounded with trees and fairly rolling hills.

but the best part, yes, the BEST part is when you slide down the dunes out of the trees and into this open, sandy beach, a small trail winding you through tall grasses and cattails to a completely private beach. it was the closest i've ever gotten to my anne of green gables moment. i so wish i had had a camera, but found this picture online and figured it was close enough. paint a clear, brilliantly bright sky over this darker one and you'll see what we saw.

glorious.

of course, our dawdling at the beach kept us from seeing the swedish settlement reenactment back at the visitor's center.

guess we'll just have to go back.

58 days till madison.

2006-05-02T16:45:00.000-07:00

it's been years since i've been running. okay, that's a lie. it's been months actually, but it's felt like years. i haven't been to the gym in eons and finally made the decision today to fax in my cancellation so i can save $44 a month. i hate cancelling my membership at the Y. when i called about it, i was suddenly struck by the guilt that i'm abandoning one of the last great community centers - pillars, if you will - of our city. but though the Y's receptionist voiced (as i sensed it) her appall at my lack of support for all the underprivelaged kids of chicago, one look at my visa statement told me i'd better stick to my guns.

i am a bad budgeter. in fact, i don't really have a budget to speak of. i more or less base my spending on what i'll call "vibes." do i feel i have enough money for this? do i feel like it's time to go out to dinner? if i buy $200 worth of swimsuits, i'll give $200 away. if i go out every night for a week with friends, i'll stay in every night the next week. you might call it my "ying yang" theory of spending.

what i need is for someone to set a budget for me and give me money in cash for the week and tell me what percentage is for food, clothing, what-have-you. but i'm getting off topic. i'm not going anywhere with budgeting today. let's back up. before i came home to my visa statement and the reality of paying for a gym membership i'm not using, i was out running. i was out running because i spent $200 on swimsuits (i'm returning the majority) that arrived at my house where i tried them on and discovered that i am in no way ready for a season of skimpy-bikini-wearing-barbie-packed beaches. and so i ran.

up bosworth, down grace, and all along ashland.

i love this city.

it's getting harder to imagine leaving. and even the joys of being in madison don't feel quite as alluring as they did months ago.

i'm not ready.

my alums want to know if i'm moving for a guy. that's what they want to hear. i tell them i would never move FOR a boy, but yes, my boyfriend is there.

but that's scary, too.

i think combined with having no job, no health insurance, no car, no place to live yet, the idea that my boyfriend is under no obligation to continue to love me is a little scary. and what if i hate madison? what if i miss the city and being free as a bird with my roommates? what if i take a job that i'm overqualified for? ...

i think this stuff tends to hit me right after j leaves. because it feels like, well, it's back to being alone. and that's the temptation for me. to believe that i'm alone. that you can't depend on people to stop by at your new house, to invite you out with them, to help you get a job, to come through if everything else falls apart.

it seems funny to me then that i should find myself reading nouwen's the way of the heart about the practice of solitude, silence and prayer. i don't know why i didn't pick up a book on the joys of church or about god's intended design for community. why solitude, silence, and prayer?

...

i have a guess. i won't tell you because i'm still mulling it over. all i'll say is that right now when i look at those three words typed out here, the voice in my head is saying, go. be alone. be silent. pray.

more than a record of awkward signature signoffs

2006-04-30T15:08:00.000-07:00

kat and i aimed to make yesterday night a movie marathon, but we succeeded in only watching one film through to the credits. when erik left, i resigned myself to my room, leaving kat and brian to doze off to season 5 of "friends."

i was tired, but not tired enough to go to bed. so i flipped kat's new mix into my stereo and opened my journal. i intended to write about the day, but the music got to me. i'm not sure if i quite understand what kat was trying to say with her compilation - if anything - but it moved me to high school in a way i haven't been transported in years.

i'll give particular thanks to mariah carey for this (though tlc's creep did lend a hand) . it wasn't the old school "someday ... oooh, oooh, someday, boy you're gonna pay cause baby i'm the one who's keeping score" mariah. nope, it's her new stuff - "we belong together" and "don't forget about us." i wasn't sure how much i'd like it, but wow. kat's right. mariah has defintely made a comeback.

this is not a joke. i love folk music. i really enjoy led zepplin. and wilco is excellent, too. but mariah. man.

i hit repeat.

welcome to the fall of '96 and my crushes.

i let the memories overtake me as i skimmed through my '97 yearbook. i tried to name as many people as i could in my class without looking at names. i probably could have averaged 40%. i flipped through page after page of smiling, awkward teenagers, taking special note of how it always seems that the youngest, gawkiest-looking senior always has his snapshot next to the GQ guy who appears more or less 37. and i read through old yearbook passages, laughing at how weird yearbook signings really are ("i love you! don't lose your spunk!" "have a great summer and please call me!" "you are the light of my life! don't forget to call me!") noting this one from my friend erika in particular:

mary, bon matin. alors, je vais ecrire quoi, tu demandes. alors, donc, alors je vais ecrire pourquoi je t'aime. j'aime how you make so much noise when you walk, j'aime how you hug yourself when you talk about your dog, j'aime how you finish your hot chocolate before i've even finished mine, j'aime your weird t-shirts and your hour and our fleures de cerises movie in the making and i even like your BabyPoopyDog sometimes. Je t'aime parce que to bring out the rebel in me. Alors, je t'adore. Eh, enough. Remember, un bon rire, c'est le soleil dans la maison. love, erika

i don't think i've seen erika since we graduated 8 years ago. we might have spoken a few times on the phone or sent a couple e-mails, but last i heard she had married a former professor and went to law school at stanford. i'd love to see her again.

but i'm digressing.

i guess the thing that struck me most was that i had forgotten those things about the highschool me that erika had considered memorable enough to mention: my little rummage sale t-shirts in bright yellows and blues, my big jeans and sandals that i used to shuffle around in as though gliding through the hallways, my hair i used to wear down and curly, how i used to talk about my dog as though she were the most precious thing on the face of the earth until erika would sigh and roll her eyes.

i'm thankful that our friends see in us things that we don't. i'm glad that there were only a handful of people who wrote about the crushes i'd harbored for months (ok, ok, or years). our friends remember the little things that were projections of what else was going on in our hearts. i look back on high school and remember dances and conversations in the hallways and basketball games and joyriding in the car with newly licensed drivers. i remember my feelings, but i can't remember my specifics; i remember my friends' specifics - shelly's pretty-in-pink sweater, beth drinking the half and half at perkins, kate's man hands, or car dancing with kari to deafening loud music from kdwb while she drove like a maniac back home trying to meet curfew.

i don't want to go back to high school, but i'm so thankful for those experiences. i'm glad i had crushes that crushed, and a best friend who remained my best friend. and i'm glad that we have yearbooks to remind us of where we came from anytime we forget.

alright. time to close my yearbook now, turn up mariah carey, dance with my roommate, and be 16 for a moment.
lylas,
mary

lessons of vanity, patience, and how to wear a baseball hat just right

2006-04-25T08:39:00.000-07:00

this is the last morning of my sudden 4-day vacation spree. i woke up at 6:45 a.m. to the sound of my roommate grinding coffee beans and then talked myself into imitating sleeping poses for the next 2 hours until i finally had to roll off the couch to turn off my other roommate's alarm clock (she had to step outside to move her car for the street cleaners).

it's gray and rainy here today, so i've elected to shower and then get back into my sweats so i can curl up with a movie later. only the hail on the air conditioning unit reminds me that there's a world outside.

i'm on vacation because i've been stressed out. my boss announced to everyone on monday that i'm resigning my position at the end of june. perhaps that's enough of a stressor, but i think it's really this rash that's aiming to take the best of me.

after i visited with a dermatologist two weeks ago, i was fairly content with his declaration that my "skin allergy" would be easily treated in a few short days by trading in everything i own for more "natural" products. after two weeks of fragrance- and dye-free soaps, detergents, shampoos, lotions, what-have-you, and the combination of two oral antibiotics and a topical cream, i was disappointed (to say the least) that the condition seemed only to get worse.

so i visited dr. memar again. it's not getting any better, is it? he asked. he stared at me dumbfounded, and then told me he'd write me a referral to visit his old professor at UIC.

i don't know if you've ever been looked at so strangely, so quizzically, so objectively, but it sucks. plain and simple. he left me with the nurse, whose sympathy was rather pitiful (when i explained that the rash was not just on my face, but on my shoulders, arms and back as well, she sighed, and said, "oh, and with the weather getting so warm, you won't be able to wear all those cute tank tops." i looked at her blankly. and then stifled my urge to strangle her). once she left me, i made the call over to UIC, and spent half an hour being connected and re-connected and transferred and re-transferred (i hate HMOs. i've said it before, but i'll say it again, i hate HMOs). the appointment ladies told me i could have their earliest may 8th appointment.

so i cried. i cried and i cried. and then the lady told me she'd recheck her schedule, and oh! lo and behold, they have an appointment available for me this thursday.

it doesn't change much to be waiting and waiting for answers you hope that someone will have. i spent my friday afternoon in the office crying every half hour. i haven't felt my real skin in a month. it's kind of like i'm not even looking at me.

i bought a bottle of wine and a pint of ice cream that night. i figured if anyone had a right to it, i did.

i talked to my friend adam that night as well, and explained my situation. i told him all the things i had tried: cheer free detergent, aveeno baby shampoo, cetaphil skin cleanser, neutrogena make-up, dove unscented soap, not drinking coffee, not sleeping in my own bed, you name it. i had even confessed every sin i could possibly think of in hopes that maybe god was just trying to get me to apologize and repent for something.

"if he wants me to learn a lesson on vanity, i've got it!" i told adam. "i've got a freaking rash all over me and i feel like i'm 13 and i'm embarrassed and i STILL HAVE TO LIVE MY LIFE. i've got it. no time for vanity. what else do i need to learn?!?!"

adam didn't know. but he suggested that i keep praying through it, ask god what else he could teach me through this.

i argued.

"no, you do not understand. i GOT vanity." i sighed heavily. "lord, if there's anything else, maybe it's patience."

maybe it's patience.

i don't know if people are afflicted just because god wants to teach a lesson. i mean, why couldn't i be offered an incredible world traveling vacation in the year 2010 and have to learn patience as i wait for that? or if it is vanity, why not a couple zits at the end of my nose? at least there's an end to that, at least there's a known cause and proper treatment. the not knowing is killing me. and the wait, as i go about my life and have to pretend i feel good about myself, is killing me.

and still, life goes on.

yesterday was gorgeous. and even for as awful as i felt, i was determined to take advantage of it. i dug out an old baseball cap from the gap, one that i think i bought in high school because it was in a sale bin for something like $2. i wore it low to sufficiently cover as much of my face as possible. i'm not a baseball cap kind of girl, but i'm getting good at wearing it. i feel like it's losing its original hold and better adjusting to my head.

i sat outside with my neighbor lucas all day long. and then we grilled out with the other neighbors in our apartment. we ate steaks and brats, drank a couple of beers, and talked about cinematography, a recent prairie dog hunting adventure, and why so many of us are leaving chicago.

when i got back in last night, i caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror with my baseball cap snugly fit on my head. i smiled because i looked cute. maybe this is the lesson. i am a baseball cap kind of girl after all.

(but lord, if you're reading this, i'd still like the rash to go away. just in case you thought i'd be fine with wearing baseball caps the rest of my life. really, i'd still like it to go away. thanks)

madison is not chicago

2006-04-19T18:16:00.000-07:00

i've spent the last hour and a half writing reviews on yelp.com. it's ridiculously addictive. i logged in as a madisonian though i think most of my reviews are for chicago-area restaurants. i'm not sure how old yelp.com is, but i kind of hoped madisonians would have made more of a showing online.

no, i'm not about to start the old debate on whether or not chicago is cooler than madison, or whether madison is just another suburb of the windy city. no, no, none of that. obviously, chicago's got a bigger pool of potential reviewers than madison. but still, 6 reviews is the most that any madison restaurant is getting? people, c'mon!

i started in on my part today, reviewing favorites like cafe continental and harvest. i told jon about all the places i wanted to go - like magnus and l'etoile - and he laughed. so i have expensive taste. i like the flair of it. i like the drama. i like pretending to be something for a night, to be catered to, to own my own time.

i just bought season tickets to the madison symphony orchestra for the upcoming year, and i've got these great dreams of eating long and lavish dinners before climbing into a carriage (yes, my dreams are rather victorian) and being whisked away to a concert in my gorgeous ballgown. chicago's helped me believe that this fantasy can be reality. and i think that's part of the reason i want to leave it.

sure, madison doesn't have the number of ritzy restaurants that chicago does. it doesn't have the money. it doesn't have the $5 million condos on the lake. it doesn't have a magnificent mile (please, don't try to argue for state street). it doesn't have neighborhood after neighborhood of ethnic fare. it doesn't have galas every night of the week or celebrities stopping by to see oprah.

but when i think about moving up there this summer and what i'll do if (and when) i panic about being in a city with only one tapas bar (geez, i sound ridiculous), i want to remember what i do get and why madison appeals to me so much at this point in my life.

i've done the classy restaurant thing. i've been to so many places, spent so much money, had drinks, desserts, entrees, appetizers. you name it. and i've loved it. but i miss slow cooking at home. i miss making dinners with erin and laura. i miss the big farmers markets on the square. i miss looking forward to going out and not taking it for granted.

so i don't think i'm gonna pursue owning a restaurant like i originally thought. i kind of want to buy an old farmhouse now, with an apple orchard out back on acres of land and a big kitchen with sunlight and people constantly streaming in. i probably will never write a book. and i'll probably never be mayor. but ...

oh, who am i to say never?

i think i am going to like madison very much.

even though it's on paul's blog ...

2006-04-17T14:50:00.000-07:00

it's too good not to post again.

to phd or not to phd

2006-04-17T14:33:00.000-07:00

thought this was interesting ...

"women earned nearly 58% of all degrees in the '02-'03 academic year, while men received slightly more than 42%, according to data compiled by the US Department of Education's national center for education statisitcs.

although women received more than 57% of bachelor's degrees and nearly 59% of master's degrees, men earned almost 53% of doctoral degrees.

huh.

for joanna

2006-04-17T10:29:00.000-07:00

*the title won't make any sense in this entry, but i'm still crediting joanna. while listening to the postal service over the weekend, she told me about an assignment she had for english class in which she had to analyze the song, "clark gable." i wish i'd had homework like that. and now i can't get the postal service out of my head. and for that, joanna, i'm very grateful.

when i like a song, i really like a song. that's how i feel about the postal service's "the district sleeps alone tonight."

i've heard it said that washington, d.c. is a city of lonely hearts. i don't know whether or not this is true. a song meanings website argues that the postal service believes it to be so.

many years ago, i had an opportunity to catch up with an old friend in d.c. while i was out east for work. i flew into d.c. nervous with anticipation, unsure if he would see i had changed (had i?) or if i'd be disappointed that he hadn't (were we more mature now?).

you can stare at someone for a long time, spend hours on the phone, talk over thousands of meals together, and somehow, it's still possible that you can be a stranger.

i strolled alongside him down the mall, conscious of my walk (i was wearing heels) and my posture (i have a hard time with button-downs). i'm not sure if he was conscious of the fact that i was there with him. we talked as though he were talking right past me. i thought maybe he didn't recognize me in my professional clothing.

when we went to dinner, i excused myself to the bathroom and put my hair up. i thought he'd put off his attitude and talk to me like we used to talk.

it didn't change anything.

sometimes you just cross signals. and then realize you're on totally different tracks.

other times you send mixed signals. i think you know you want to be with someone when, in the midst of being a total ball of confusion and frustration, that person keeps a light on you so you don't derail.

i don't need anyone to tell me i am a sinner. it's clear enough to me everyday, some days more than others.

i listened in church yesterday about the resurrection, but i kept thinking about the cross. my sins all on jesus. every single one.

each time i mess up big, i ask god for forgiveness and then ask him what i should do to let him know that i am really, really, really sorry. i devise all sorts of good punishments, tell him that if i mess up again, he should feel free to strike me dead. or that he should call me to siberia because i deserve to be alone.

i have a rather tragic complex.

it's kind of like i'm stuck in a time warp right before the resurrection.

i KNOW the truth, so i swallow it obediently and graciously, like i did at that ethopian restaurant in d.c. i was told the food was good, so i ate it, but i didn't like it. and while i smiled at my server, all i thought about was the burger and fry joint i'd stop by on the way home.

food or otherwise, i still think i know exactly what i need. and if what i need is a hurtful consequence for my sin, then so be it.

can god be gracious? yes, i think so, but i never act as though i believe it.

"his grace is sufficient," i hear. and i think, "thanks, god, for that. but now how do i know that you've really forgiven me? i don't want you to bring it up later and make me feel even worse. i don't want to be a sinner. i don't want to be afraid of you. so give me a horrible task, i'll complete it, and then let's never talk of my sin again."

i don't want to be a failure! i want a clean record every time. if i mess up, i want to tell god that i'm sorry, ask him to forgive me and then let me sweep it up and pile it in a dark corner of my heart.

i think the hard thing with god is that he'll light up your whole heart so there are no such things as dark corners. so that all my devised punishments look like me pushing dirt around my heart in search of a place he can't see. and then i can rest my broom on the wall of my heart, and tell him i cleaned it up myself, that i fixed it, and doesn't that make him happy now that i've done so well?

he is so gracious with me.

in moments like this, when i've sat down right in the middle of my heart with god's eyes fully on me and written all these possible consequences out for him to choose from, and when i've gotten to work at making amends for all my sins, and when i've carefully brushed all the dirt under a piece of furniture, and i'm holding up my broom saying, oh yes god, your grace is sufficient, that's when i feel god up the wattage in my heart.

i look sheepishly at the dirt i thought i had hidden.

and then i look up at him again. but i hid it, god! i cleaned it up! i did it!

the wattage turns up again. it reveals more.

spots so dirty i could spend my whole life bleaching them and never get them out.

and then he shows me the cross.

i dare to argue.

but what if i've done that same thing twice?! once is understandable. but twice? i want your forgiveness, god, but i want to really make it up to you. i want you to be god, but i want to be enough to cover my own sin!

mixed signals.

the cross lights up and floods light so bright into my heart that i have to shut my eyes.

when i open them again, there is no dirt in my house. not one spot. nothing. totally clean.

but he's left the broom. as a reminder that he hasn't stolen my will.

his grace is sufficient. jesus is enough. his forgiveness is full.

he keeps his light on me. never failing. never growing dim. and i can't make it up to him, can't write him a really sweet card that makes him like me again, can't send him flowers to win his favor. i just let my words be few.

and i bask in his glory. grateful. in awe.

letting god be god is good.

i think if you ever meet anyone who treats you even a little like this, forgiving you when you don't deserve it, you ought to humble yourself and accept it graciously.

i think when you meet someone like this, someone who doesn't run when you wrestle, someone who steadies you when you're a full-blown mess, someone who offers you grace in big measures, you know god must love you. because this person - for some reason - does, too.

and her hair has turned so gray

2006-04-13T11:18:00.000-07:00

while it was r.e.m's "everybody hurts" that inspired my "ode to valerie," it's material issue's "valerie loves me" that's been on repeat in my head since then. and for that, i'd like to thank material issue and their international pop overthrow.

that's all for now.

ode to valerie

2006-04-12T07:00:00.001-07:00

my launch player just tuned into r.e.m's everybody hurts. and i'm magically whisked away to my freshman year of college.

in august of '98, i moved into the lakeshore dorms at the uw with a beautiful, tall, long-haired blonde hippie girl named val who always smelled a little of both sweat and indian food. she refused to shave her legs or her armpits, wore "natural" deoderant, hung up flyers featuring tortured animals to help her stick to her vegan habits, drank wine from big coffee mugs, and kept piles of papers all over our floor.

i loved val.

down the hall, my new friend laura lived with a very different kind of girl. i can't remember the girl's name now, except that she obsessed over her looks constantly, had a wardrobe that barely fit in her room let alone her closet, and wouldn't eat anything that might add an extra calorie or two to her already slim intake. she always smelled good, always glistened (never sweated), and kept her room immaculately clean.

i loved val.

sure, there were times when i couldn't stand coming home to the mess spread all over our rust-color carpeted floor (it was not my color of choice), when the lingering smell of afghani food left in the refrigerator for a couple of weeks absorbed into my day-old macaroni and cheese, when i just wanted her to be normal like everyone else. but the things i learned from val - to love my body (she used to rub her tummy and tell me sit-ups would only cut down on the necessary fat required to keep my ovaries warm), to wear what i like (and embrace or ignore trends depending on what i liked), to always think people are more complex and more similar than they first appear.

val liked music by poi dog pondering (i am still grateful she introduced me to them), phish, and over the rhine (that was the only band we both came to the uw agreeing on, so we played their good dog, bad dog album over and over and over again all year long). before i sold half my cd collection (an overzealous move i made to rid myself of material things ... and yes, i kind of regret it now. i mean, i sold all my ani and counting crows and oasis, and kept dc talk and raze. oh, sad, sad), i had some pretty pop-y stuff - jock jams, r.e.m., stuff that everyone liked ... which kind of embarrassed me. i didn't feel it was cool or indie enough for val, so i rarely listened to it.

and then one spring day, i came home to an empty room and took the opportunity to put my r.e.m. disc in the stereo. val walked in, sat her stuff down, and started her homework. when we got around to "everybody hurts," i heard her sniff a bit and turned to see her silently crying. she and her boyfriend tim were on the outs again, she explained through her tears. i plopped myself down next to her on her bed and put my arm around her. and she cried harder. and then asked me to put "everybody hurts" on repeat, said her mom used to play this song for her when she had had trouble with tim in the past while they were in high school. and then she just kept crying.

i guess i think about that moment as a time i felt val's lessons to me - that i should just be myself and like what i like regardless of what anyone else thinks - were tangible. and that she really believed it. val didn't own any r.e.m. and yes, it was too popular for her taste. but for one moment, me liking something without fear brought comfort to her. and she got to feel safe. and i got to feel safe. when it all boiled down, my likes and her likes could be totally dissimilar but we cared for each other. because above all that other stuff was our appreciation for and love of each other.

i love val. i love being reminded of her. that's a good way to start the day.

it's just a list

2006-04-09T17:23:00.000-07:00

it's how my mind works. random clips, montages taken from the following scenes, and played back here to the soundtrack of kim taylor. i'm thinking about ...

... how much i loved walking up green bay trail in wilmette with jon yesterday. i love getting to know someone so well.
... my conversation with laura this morning about her interest in immigration reform. and just talking on the phone with her. it had been awhile.
... hanging out with erin this afternoon while i cleaned my room. just being in the same room with someone is satisfying, but to be with erin who i love is even more satisfying.
... my dad did my taxes and just sent them to me for my review. it's awesome to have a dad who cares that much that he's still willing to help his 25-year-old daughter do something like this.
... my mom who passed along a resume for a friend i'm just getting to know. little networking things like that mean a big deal to me.
... dinner with jon's brother joel and his girlfriend shannon last week. and dinner with maria and mike on friday. it's fun to be with couples who like people a lot :)
... moving to honduras. or rwanda. or uganda. for a couple years. to get out of what i know and am comfortable with. because there are things beyond the midwest that my heart loves to care for. and i'd like to be there to experience it firsthand.
... the invisible children movie. it left me angry with god, frustrated with the u.s., and upset with my own disgusting consumerist mindset. it also left me hopeful about people, in awe of god's greatness in every way i can only now imagine, and convinced that that was not the end of my relationship with those realities.
... how much i'd like to not be thinking about my skin right now.
... how my life will come to an end just like everyone else's. and that god is way more capable of handling my worry than i will ever be.
... my roommate kat in north carolina.

whenever i write down all i'm thinking, i want to both laugh and cry. doesn't it ever amaze you that god could make beings so complex that they can think a million thoughts and still know so little? it makes me want to laugh that i'm so naive to think i have SO much on my mind of consequence, and it makes me cry that god could still care so much about me when i care so little for him.

i'm sorry it takes me so long, god. but i'm oh-so-happy that you are always waiting for me.

checkout line diagnosis

2006-04-09T08:29:00.000-07:00

nearly two months ago, i returned from a long weekend up to madison on a monday night, and settled into work on tuesday morning. two hours into my day, my left cheek went numb and began to itch a bit.

the condition persisted, sending me back to my oral surgeon where i had had my wisdom teeth removed only a month earlier. oh, they told me, it's just a flare up because of that one tooth. here's some medicine. go away.

turns out that wasn't the reason.

so i visited a general practitioner. twice. and twice she looked at me dumbfounded, twice she flipped through her pocket-sized idiot's guide to skin diseases, twice she prescribed medicines for me that did absolutely nothing.

i went to russia like this, desperately trying to ignore the fact that every high school student, suitcases filled with prescription drugs ensuring that they'd never conceive of the reality of even a pimple, seemed to approach me like living neutrogena ads.

i made it through the week, confident that i'd visit a dermatologist soon enough with my doctor's referral and find a cure for whatever it was that had found a home on my face.

but because i have an hmo (hateful medical option), i'm required to jump through a series of hoops and other such obstacles with the agility and time commitment of a suburban teenager without summer employment (which i am not). between waiting for administrators to locate my lost referral and being put on hold while appointment-makers determine whether or not my condition is or is not life-threatening and, then, in fact, deserving of an appointment seven months away, i decided that self-diagnosis would be my best - and perhaps only - option.

it became increasingly more important to find an answer, since, after returning from russia, this "condition" chose to wage war on the rest of my body.

i was quite pleased then, as you might expect, to notice the national enquirer's top story a few weeks back while checking out at the grocery store:

it makes sense! it first came on at work. and it spread the second i started thinking about returning to work! though my symptoms aren't at all the same (freezing all the time - not cold, but blank and unresponsive, with an hourglass-shaped glint in the eye), it still makes sense that perhaps my computer is afflicted with some sort of virus and that i should cover its fans with handkerchiefs. The computing-specialist interviewed in the article maintains "it's not worth the risk. we can treat an infected machine with a little warmth from the motherboard. but if YOU'RE exposed, it's a one-way trip to reboot hill."

fortunately, i was at last able to get in to see a dermatologist on friday (after passive-agressively complaining to an appointment-maker that i'd happily take her earliest may 8th visit, if i didn't die before then. and yes, i did actually tell her that). he immediately recognized my condition as a skin allergy, so i was loaded down again with new medicines and told to go behave like a minimalist so we can figure out what detergent or dry-cleaners or shampoo or boyfriend i'm allergic to.

but that doesn't mean i still don't suspect my computer. after all, if the national enquirer is right that a hoarse throat - and not a wooden horse - was reponsible for the city of troy's downfall, then who i am to question their computer virus findings?

my russia in snapshots

2006-03-28T07:53:00.000-08:00

if you ever have the opportunity to travel to russia, go. looking through my photos today, i still feel awed by the history, the beauty, the complexity of this country and its people. i'll certainly write more later, but here's a preview in pictures ...

while the students were in committee, i climbed to the top of the bell tower of smolny cathedral (left). i had intentions of taking wonderfully artsy photographs, but the wind is so strong there at the top, that my fingers froze on the buttons and i simply snapped as quickly as i could before rushing down the shaky iron staircase.

it's unreal, really, how beautiful it was up there.

before leaving for moscow on thursday afternoon, we visited the czars' summer palace. one of the rooms (here at right) is available to be rented out, though one can only guess at the price. elton john played for royalty in this room laced with pure gold once upon a time, so i imagine it's not readily accessible to your average joe eager to host his own bar mitzvah and show-up his friends. the room is amazing.

fortunately, after WWII when the nazis had come through and pilfered much of the gold, the russians were able to return the excessive and dramatic decorations to the original summer palace appearance. the palace is extraordinary in its showiness and is complete with a room whose walls are decorated entirely with amber. jaw-dropping, indeed.

st. petersburg i'd compare a lot to beijing, the same way i'd compare moscow to shanghai. st. petersburg feels older, more laid back, more focused on academics and history. moscow feels busy, feels constantly changing. but then you visit the kremlin, and there in red square, you see before you the incredible st. basil's cathedral (below left) commissioned by ivan the terrible and built between 1555 and 1561, and you must pinch yourself to believe you are actually seeing this thing, live and in person. legend has it that on completion of the church, the tsar ordered the architect to be blinded to prevent him from ever creating anything to rival its beauty again.

i stood outside that evening, looking at st. basil's against the backdrop of one of the most gorgeous skies i have ever seen. everything looked created by crayola, like i was flipping pages of a storybook and not standing only feet away from this enormous and breathtaking cathedral in the middle of one of the most historic landmarks in the world.

i expected so little from russia. what a fool i am. i cannot wait to go back.

[there was some russian text here]

2006-03-16T13:32:00.000-08:00

no, i can't read that either. but i know it means, "my name is mary" and that must count for something. of course, when i get to russia, if someone asks me what my name is i'll not even understand the question. i suppose i should work on forgetting that newly learned phrase, but it's one of only five that i now know and i'm not ready to part yet with it.

what else do i know?

how are you
thank you
you are welcome
ok

sure, it's a little late to be trying to work on my russian. but i honestly haven't been excited until now. and to tell you the truth, i'm not even quite thrilled now. yes, i know it's st.petersburg, and i'm crazy lucky to be going. but what with this unidentifiable rash on one side of my face and the hematoma that i got yesterday at the dentist's office ("it'll be a little black and blue," she says. "kind of like someone punched you in the face") on the other side of my face, well, i'm not feeling the yippy-i-o adventure spirit overtaking me.

i miss my old skin. i miss washing my face and feeling like it was me. not rashy, not swollen. just me. i'm trying not to worry about it, but you can imagine how it weighs on my shoulders.

i've asked god if he's trying to make 2006 into a year's worth of lessons about vanity. no response. maybe he thinks i'm kidding.

i'm not.

but anyway, the good news is that i got my debit card PIN reset today so that i can actually take out rubbles at a russian ATM, and that the shoes i bought at DSW yesterday are so deliciously adorable and comfortable that i silently squeal with delight everytime i look down, and that i finally finished my march madness bracket today (and gave connecticut the trophy).

more good news will be waking up to find my rash completely gone, my cheek totally unswollen, and an excitement in my heart about traveling in st. petersburg and moscow.

probably won't post till i get back. feel free to keep me, my fellow chaperone, and our 11 kids in your prayers :)

[there was some russian here]

that means "thank you."

le matin

2006-03-15T08:47:00.000-08:00

i know it's largely due to the coffee running through my veins at 80 mph, but i am so grateful for this moment. i wish i could wrap my arms around everything.

it started this morning with abby. we met at 7:15 am, which meant that i had to get out of bed at 6 am, which is a glorious time to wake up when it's sunny. i love the el in the morning. and i love the pace at which i walk when it's so chilly you must walk fast, but so sunny that you slow down just enough to enjoy the warmth of those sunbeams.

our conversation revolved around two particular themes - ideas of womanhood and struggles with trust. i spoke on my love of being single in the city, of drinking $3 chocolate martinis with my roommates whenever i feel like it, of shopping only to satisfy my needs and wants, of long conversations with girlfriends that aren't restrained by other demands on my time.

what a glorious thing, to be totally free! to feel like you can do anything! to indulge yourself!

abby suggested that perhaps i enjoy some of this more now because i'm in a relationship. because there's a safety net of someone loving me. instead of drinking martinis with my girlfriends and eyeing the men at the bar, wondering what it would be like to date any of them, i can more fully enjoy my friends and their stories, knowing that i can come home and call jon and feel totally loved and desired.

and then she suggested that perhaps i'm loving the other stuff more now than before because i fear it being taken away - that being in a relationship forces me to concede that perhaps the rest of my life won't be spent making ME happy, and i've done a good job of making that a focal point of my life for the past few years.

she is so right on.

yes, i have trust issues. i'm confident trusting in myself. because i can live with disappointing me. but i fear others disappointing me. i don't want to be upset with them. and if you can give enough distance between you and the people you love most, then you can admire them from afar and love them dearly without letting them close enough to hurt you, which would make you disappointed in them.

and so it is with me and god. i wrestle a lot with him. in the very center of my heart, i am full of love for him. and i want him to have my undivided heart. i know that he is my soul's satisfaction. but what is missing between me and him? is it because i've felt let down or misled by him before? maybe that's it. i still can't quite figure it out.

even without the answer yet, what made the morning extra good was having abby alongside me, saying that she understands. that she feels it too. and that together, we are gonna learn how to be the women both we and god want us to be. to know that we were made with wild personalities, to understand that we are loved just as we are, but to know that there's something more. that at some point in our lives, we encountered a truly living and active god and we cannot be the same.

what does it mean to be a woman after god's own heart? what does it mean to be abby after god's own heart? what does it look like to be mary after god's own heart? what does it look like to be YOU after god's own heart?

i know somewhere in there, it looks like me trusting god (so, god, consider me intent on learning what it means to actively trust you). i know somewhere in there, it looks like me considering others before myself (so, god, consider me intent on learning how to spend my time and my money to love other people). i know somewhere in there, it looks like learning about god (oooh. i think this means humility. so, god, i don't know how else to ask this, but please give me a teachable spirit).

i love being able to share like this with a close friend. how can you not enjoy a morning of coffee-drinking and soul-connecting?

and the last thing, which was the icing on the cake ...

so starbucks (i know, so sue me) was giving away free coffee this morning from 10-12. i mentioned it to my coworkers and ALL of us (yes, even my boss who never goes) responded to my invite to join me on a walk across the street. i don't even care about the free coffee, but to have all of us walk over together in the sunlight, talking and laughing together? lord, yes. that was like the best feeling of family i've had in so long.

it almost made me forget about the rash remnants of my wisdom-tooth debaucle :)

seriously. it was a good morning.

sorry, cullen.

2006-03-08T14:42:00.000-08:00

let's discuss sarcasm for a second.

Main Entry: sar·casm
Pronunciation: 'sär-"ka-z&m
Function: noun
Etymology: French or Late Latin; French sarcasme, from Late Latin sarcasmos, from Greek sarkasmos, from sarkazein to tear flesh, bite the lips in rage, sneer.
1 : a sharp and often satirical or ironic utterance designed to cut or give pain
2 : a mode of satirical wit depending for its effect on bitter, caustic, and often ironic language that is usually directed against an individual

is it a bad habit? the robot penguin contends that isn't: "It's called having a sense of humor. And making a joke at someone else's expense is better than no joke at all." gURL.com polled its readers and found 789 "dig" it and only 70 "diss" it. of 459 christian youth workers polled, 53.2% of those polled claimed to "teach youth that sarcasm is bad." so, it's subjective?

when i was a senior in high school, i sat with three others at the most sarcastic table in our english classroom. we spent the afternoons tearing into each other all in good fun. my best friend and i would often team up against lance and cullen, but it almost always came down to me and cullen really pushing each other's buttons. i figured it was because we were just that clever. we liked each other alright. no harm done.

a few weeks before our last day of school, mrs. sinkler asked us to contribute questions about anything we'd read or learned in english class that year and the best would appear on our oral final. naturally, the four of us dreamnt up questions dripping in sarcasm that somehow involved each of us. cullen would reference kafka's the metamorphasis, asking, "if mary were a caterpillar ..." and, well, if you've read the book, you can imagine his questions. i'd retort with something that would cut to the quick of cullen, and we'd all get a good laugh.

fast forward to the last day of school. mrs. sinkler calls me up front and asks me to select a question off the multi-page final. it was very informal, you see, everyone kind of getting a chance to speak off the cuff. i chose, "what is immaturity?" i smiled at cullen, and dug in. i was funny, i was ruthless. and he was laughing. no problem.

and then she called him up. i expected the same thing in return - a sharp, biting, sarcastic response that would rake me over the coals. he smiled at me, and then chose a question to which the answer could be anything BUT sarcastic. i stared at him dumbfounded. he finished without flair, and sat down.

two days later, we graduated.

it's been 8 years, but that moment has stuck with me. i'd been praised for my sarcasm all through high school. i'd engaged in it happily. and in one completely unexpected moment, i'd been made the jerk. i'd cut into someone and no one cut into me. i felt like a punk.

during my freshman year of college, a few of my friends (who remain my best friends to this day) and i made a pact to avoid sarcasm as best we could. if christ had asked us to use our words to encourage, comfort, love, then, well, we were gonna do that.

on the youth group poll site listed above, one of the youth workers claims that he uses sarcasm regularly, noting that jesus employed it often, and citing matthew 16:21-28 as his example. maybe i'm not seeing it. i'll guess he was referencing this:

22 Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. "Never, Lord!" he said. "This shall never happen to you!" 23 Jesus turned and said to Peter, "Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men."

is that jesus trying to cut into peter? to bring him pain? i don't know.

i guess i think of sarcasm as that satirical or ironic utterance that differentiates itself from wit (astuteness of perception or judgment; the ability to relate seemingly disparate things so as to illuminate or amuse) because sarcasm involves the intent to cut. i know jesus was clever. i know he had a master grasp of every rhetorical tool in the box. but when i read scripture, i just think his intent was always, always, always for the ultimate purpose of LOVING us.

and to me, that translates as ...

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

guest blogger: ryan adams

2006-03-07T19:22:00.000-08:00

Two hearts fading, like a flower.
And all this waiting, for the power.
For some answer, to this fire.
Sinking slowly. The water's higher.
Desire.

With no secrets. No obsession.
This time I'm speeding with no direction.
Without a reason. What is this fire?
Burning slowly. My one and only.
Desire.

You know me. You don't mind waiting.
You just can't show me, but God I'm praying,
That you'll find me, and that you'll see me,
That you run and never tire.
Desire.

homework

2006-03-06T08:18:00.000-08:00

without going into the details, today finds me working from home. which i love. and which i wish i could do more often. don't get me wrong - i love working with my peers and stopping to take breaks with them, discussing the successes and stories of events from the night before, but there's something about the freedom of working in your own environment.

take today for instance. i got up at 6:15 like i normally would, but decided at 6:40 that i wasn't gonna make it in to work. i sat down at the computer and began working at 7:00. i've already been on two conference calls, answered all the emails i got from the weekend and am now updating our calendar of events before heading into major editing work. i feel so accomplished!

and the best part is that i can play my music as loud as i want and get up for a minute and dance around my house to get all my spastic energy out so i can sit down and be productive at the computer.

this is what i'm missing in my office. i think everyone needs to be able to be spastic for at least a few minutes. instead of trying to ignore the urge to flail my arms and legs a little when a good song pops up on my radio, i can dance around freely. i think suppressing that urge is what contributes to the slow death of my soul at work. having an opportunity to get out of my chair and turn up the cure's "close to me" and "why can't i be you?" gets the blood back to my brain and i find myself enjoying work.

ooh. love it.

alright, back to it now. if you need me, i'll be at my computer, typing in rhythm to "lovesong."

kotex

2006-03-02T15:44:00.000-08:00

kotex's recent television ad claims that women are biologically superior.

biologically speaking, women win.
we get amazing curves,
sexy hairless backs,
miraculous ovaries,
but just so we don't get too cocky, women get ... periods.

i don't know what it was, but the whole thing made me laugh out loud. can you imagine god being like, "hmm, she's absolutely beautiful, but to keep her humble, i'll make her uterus shed its lining"?

i mean, what?

but it got me to visit their website, which i admit i was pretty amused by. not only can you download your own period calendar, get desktop downloads (oh the possibilities of grossing out your coworkers), send e-cards, and - not forgetting any possible male visitors - a puberty education booklet for boys (with such helpful hints as "never, ever, ever use an electric razor in the shower! you could electrocute yourself.").

man, i miss sex ed.

Lent: Act One

2006-03-02T08:42:00.000-08:00

I haven’t seen my friend Allan in months. Almost a year ago, we were inseparable friends. Time changes things, God prunes, and relationships are never the same.

Yesterday he phoned me at work and we had an opportunity to awkwardly catch up on the past few months of our lives. We swapped work stories: mine about the usual, his about a new venture in ministry to South Africa. The conversation was broken and a bit stiff compared to the old days when we spoke comfortably and easily. I hung up, a bit frustrated and disappointed that our friendship had come to this. I hung up weary that I will always be a disappointment to my closest friends, my parents, you name it.

Last night, I pulled out my purse bible from the bottom of my bag and emptied the gum wrappers from its pages (it’s in my purse should I ever need it, though I’ve rarely opened it in the past few months when I’m out and about. I wonder sometimes if I were hit by a bus and the witnesses rummaged through my purse, if they’d think me really holy having a bible in my purse and what not. Oh, how mistaken they would be). I’ve decided to start reading scripture again for Lent. And I chose Acts. Because.

So I’m reading in chapter one about Jesus saying some goodbyes to his pals and then drifting up to the sky like a little child holding a forcefully hot air balloon. And all these guys below just stand there, jaws dropped, mouths gaping. One of them is scratching his beard. He hears another’s tummy rumble. How long do they stand there? What are they supposed to do now? If they look hard enough, could they find him up amongst the clouds? One stands on his toes and leans towards the sky, squinting up at the sun.

And then suddenly, these two angels appear, right. “Men of Galilee,” they say, “why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.” So they look at each other and turn back to Jerusalem. And they pray. Together.

I’ve spent a lot of time staring up at the sky. Wondering where Jesus went. In college, I spent a couple hours one evening at a retreat kneeling in an open field yards and yards away from the activity of people bustling about, staring up at a big, open, cloudless, star-filled sky, begging Jesus to just let me see him, imagining him appearing as Mufasa did to Simba in the Lion King. That’s what I wanted. I was desperate for him to come back. I’d imagine Jesus walking towards me out of the woods that circled this open field, like how he walked on water towards Peter. Peace now, he’d say to me. Be strong, now. Be strong. I was waiting for that.

I’ve been waiting for that. For him to say anything to me himself. Right from his visible mouth. For him just to appear out of nowhere. JUST. BE. VISIBLE. I tell him all the time I’m waiting for him. In my head, I go out to that field all the time and beg him to show up. I stare at the sky and I wait for him.

So when I read that these guys get a message from these glowing, white-clothed men and are like, well, okay, let’s go back to Jerusalem, I’m thinking, what?!? Why don’t they stay and watch?

I would have. I’m good at that.

I’m a little afraid of going back and disappointing my friends. Of trying to be like Jesus and failing miserably. Of screwing something up with one person and then everyone finding out. Of just not doing it right, period.

I sat in my bed thinking all this. And I fell asleep.

This morning, I read my friend Sara’s blog about her time in South Africa. And I read about Leah and Drew in Cape Town. And I checked out the Jeskes note again about their move to the same place. And my heart remembers why it can’t stand out in the open field, staring up at the sky forever.

I love my friends meeting my friends. Honestly, there is little else in the whole world I love as much as that. It makes me feel alive, like I could jump up and down a la Tom Cruise, but with better rhythm and sweeter moves.

This is FAMILY. And the mess I create among my brothers and sisters is not too big for Him. I don’t have to retreat. I make mistakes. I hurt people. I disappoint them. But I can’t retreat from them. I know in my heart that I love them. And He loves them even, even, even more.

I hope Allan will get in touch with my South African-living friends. I hope they will make connections and see their families grow. Why should my failures forever come in the way of the family that God loves so much?

And I’m part of that family. I don’t belong alone in a field, staring up at the sky, waiting and waiting and waiting. I belong with my family. Waiting together, loving each other, and preparing for acts like only God could do with, through, among, for the people He so abundantly loves.

maybe i need more than a vacation

2006-02-28T17:22:00.000-08:00

it's wednesday evening and i'm alone and a little bit tired. i slept restlessly last night and though i spent the whole 45-minute bus ride home trying to coach my bedraggled body into the idea of going for a run, i instead laid down for a nap as soon as i walked in my door.

of course, i can rarely nap. and tonight, i'm not sure if i did or not. my home phone rang a few times, alerting me to the the cramp in my leg from sleeping so fully on top of it, and finally woke me up when the answering machine allowed the caller to record a full minute of dial tone.

since i like waking up to light subtlely, i was pleased that at 6:00 pm i had just enough light in the house to find a matchbox without turning on a light. i lit half a dozen candles, made pasta and watched the last 15 minutes of friends.

my whole body feels tired. i think because my mind feels tired. my body is kind enough to sympathize. it's not like i have any real stress. i met with my boss for my review today and walked away glowing. i got great emails from some of my favorite constituents. we ate king cake in our office in honor of mardi gras. and the days are getting longer.

but stress is looming. honestly, i want to quit my job and be free for a little while. i just want to take a couple of months 0ff and let my head rest. i want to enjoy a summer.

really, why do schools give students the summer off? why? i don't see how that prepared me for the real world. i wasn't trained to be satisfied with a two-week vacation in the summer. why do people think is normal? why do people think our bodies were made to sit in front of computers all day long? why?

a coworker told me today how she's been feeling light-headed and dizzy at work lately. this is the longest office job she's held (nearly a year) and she says it feels so unnatural to her.

as well it should.

"i think i'm getting some sort of radiation-disease from staring at my computer screen so long," she tells me.

i nod in agreement. seven hours in front of that machine will probably be some sort of war torture in 100 years.

my dad says that you won't necessarily find a job that will make you happy. and few people do something they really love. well, i'll take that gamble. i'd like to be one of the few then. i know i get eternity, but i don't see why i have to accept the humdrum now.

makes me just want to look up at the sky and remind Him again that i'm game for anything.

$40 for an alleluia

2006-02-28T13:03:00.000-08:00

while lounging about the living room of our enormous hotel quarters (see laura's blog) this past weekend, we dove into a conversation of the exorbitantly high ticket prices for concerts. but here's what i found most interesting (and forgive me, erin, laura, and jen, for not remembering which of you brought it up): why do we pay to go to a "worship" concert? third day and david crowder are currently touring and charging $40 a head. i never really thought anything of it until now. and i'm not talking about caedmon's call type bands that are "christian-themed." i'm talking about the full-out, leading-worship, bring-you-closer-to-god-through-emotional-sing-song bands (i honestly don't mean that as an attack). is it right to charge people to invite them to experience god like that?

i don't know. thoughts?

and in other news, i was on the ccm site to research ticket prices for other worship bands and came across this t-shirt from second coming clothing. i honestly have to wonder who their audience is. because situated right below the thumbnail of that t-shirt was a photo of their ladies' short-sleeve denim shirt.

but really, if you want to get onboard with second coming clothing and "wear the mission," make sure you check out their other t-shirt options with such "hot" sellers like Bloodwiser ("the wise men knew his blood's for you"), BrokeBack on the Mountain, and NBC - Nothing But Christ.
oh, lord. help us.

what can be, instead of just what is

2006-02-22T06:57:00.000-08:00

From the Sierra Club ...

March 24, 1989 will forever plague history as one of the worst environmental disasters of our time. Eleven million gallons of oil spilled into the Prince William Sound killing thousands of wildlife and destroying a complex and delicate ecosystem. Exxon promised they would clean up the spill and promised that those affected would get their lives back. Sixteen years later and the people are still waiting for their lives to become "whole" again.

So my Sierra Club Insider email tells me that I can host a party to watch the video of "The Day The Water Died." I signed up for my free dvd this morning.

I still want to host a roundtable discussion about the Free the Slaves information I've been reading through.

And I want to do research on this No More Deaths group based in Tucson, Arizona (2 members of which are facing felony charges for aiding people in the Arizona desert who crossed the US-Mexico border).

...

Ask me why I want to own a big house.

Because I want to have big parties with champagne and ballgowns and live bands and lights on the veranda. This is all true. I can't pretend I don't want it.

But as I think about the above issues and others like them, I think I want a big place because I want to host events in support of them. I want to host retreats. I want to gather people into one big place that's cozy not because Ethan Allen designed the furniture, but because in those rooms of that house, people find freedom to think. I'm not saying there won't be TVs in my house because there will be. And I'm not avoiding the internet (great article in Sojourners recently, by the way, addressing New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin's proposal that the city create a wireless network offering free broadband Internet access to residents and businesses. Says the chief technology officer of New Orleans, "it's a once-in-a-century opportunity to truly show the entire world what can be, instead of just what is, and help write future history in the process").

I'm just saying that when I think about what I'd pour my life into, this is what stands out. All sorts of people gathered into one place, talking with each other with their coffee cups continually being refilled, their heads full of thoughts and their ears open to one another as they discuss things that MATTER.

And awesome if conversations of energy shortages lead into games of euchre or if someone wants to start a game of freeze tag before a few of us sit down to write letters to our congresspeople while listening to ray lamontagne. Awesome.

Now it's a matter of praying, of seeking opportunities to do what makes my heart feel so alive. It thrills me.

My friend Mark - a masterful web programmer genius as far as I can tell - had dinner with me last night and helped me sort through ideas I'd begun to birth lately about creating a website to help people better navigate the city of Madison in regards to interests, activities, etc. Can you imagine what's possible if people collaborate? When ideas settle into the earth. When dreams become reality ... Little else seems as lovely as that.

until everybody is free

2006-02-16T10:29:00.000-08:00

while my coworker diana swapped offices with me this morning to make a phone call in private (i have a door now, remember), i surfed the internet for a bit at her desk. and i was heartbroken. no, heartbroken can't even describe it.

i read through articles on the US refusing to shut Guantanamo Bay prison camp despite a UN report calling for its immediate closure, looked through the new Abu Ghraib photos released (some of the photos are terribly distressing and offensive, so don't click on the link if you don't want to see them) and just listened to an interview with kevin bales, president of the anti-slavery organization, Free the Slaves, about the issues he thinks about every day ...

Vivek Pandit, an Indian anti-slavery campaigner, writes simply, "Nobody is free until everybody is free."

We know too much to not learn more.

There are an estimated 27 million slaves alive today. The majority, up to 20 million, are bonded laborers in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Nepal.

Today's slave population is over five times greater than the population of the island of Ireland.

About 14% of Haiti's under-18 population, or 300,000 children, are restaveks - children working as domestic slaves. Thirty percent receive only one meal per day.

An estimated 40,000 women and young girls from Burma are forced in the sex industry in Thailand each year.

The CIA and US State Department estimate that over 50,000 women and children are trafficked into the US each year.

Whether it's slavery, or responding to the needs of victims of torture, or learning how to think about abortion (see anne lamott's article here), there is something to be learned.

in the meantime, i think i'll try to get a few folks together on the 27th of february for anti-slavery day. i know that if i think i'm alone in thinking about it, i'll forget it. i need to be held accountable. i know too much.

my, how quickly time changes things ...

2006-02-15T14:58:00.000-08:00

i'm at a blogging loss. i've begun and nearly finished 3 separate blogs. one about dawn, one that divulges yesterday's events, and one that talks about country music and moving to the city. but i can't pull any of them to a close.

i feel like i'm waiting.

i'm watching my fingers again. i haven't done that for ages. i feel like there's inspiration in my wrists. a story to tell, something. sitting in my wrists. right above my bracelet. i can feel it there.

the image you see to your right is an unfair image. my hand is actually not moving most of the time. but when i took the photo i decided to pretend i was busy. in hopes that maybe that would inspire me to write. i'm trying, people.

....

okay, remember how i just wrote that i had nothing to write? that's so 10 minutes ago ... because i just got TWO FREE TICKETS TO THE JOFFREY BALLET'S PERFORMANCE OF ROMEO AND JULIET!! o my goodness. i feel high as a kite. i can hardly stand it. brenda and i were going to go running tonight at 7:30, but this is like a thousand and one times way better! o my goodness. i don't even know how to sit still.

so when i say i like surprises, this is what i'm talking about. man, man, man. i'm like out of my mind excited. and to know that brenda is so excited, too? it's like the coolest thing. for real, i feel like blaring my music in my office and jumping up and down like a 13-year-old boy at a green day concert. wow. wow. wow.

and one more thing, since i'm talking to him online right now and looking at the flowers he sent me sitting on my desk, i'll just say that jon is good to my heart in a way my words continually fail to express.

so i won't say anything. i'll just post a photo of the flowers per sarah's request. and sit here smiling. like an idiot.

(isn't it awesome how flowers work? yesterday, those irises were just little buds and today - THIS! and tomorrow, ooh, i can't wait to see those lilies bloom tomorrow. really, how quickly things change).

to be noticed

2006-02-12T18:05:00.000-08:00

this evening, i concluded a weekend movie marathon with john curran's "we don't live here anymore." i'd been wanting to see it since catching the preview for it during each visit to see "before sunset" in the theatre.

the short story - as copied from the back of the dvd - is this: jack and terry. hank and edith. they're married couples and best friends with much in common. jack and hank are professors at cedar county college. terry and edith are stay-at-home moms. and jack and edith are secret lovers.

there's not much plot, so i don't feel i'm spoiling anything at all, but if you wish to remain entirely clueless, don't read on.

terry (played by laura dern) is the most remarkable role. throughout the film, her character was by far the most engaging, the most complex. and so it's surprising to me that it's edith's character that suddenly had me at the very end.

essentially, edith isn't fully desired. when she finally tells hank she's been having an affair, he admits that he's both happy and sad about it - happy that edith's felt loved and sad that it's now over between her and jack.

jack doesn't leave terry to be with edith, even though he's told terry he's in love with edith.

so there's edith. her husband doesn't have time, doesn't care to be with her, and her lover has chosen his wife.

her character feels so hollow that you can almost hear the words, "notice me!" echo from her insides.

so tonight, after mark and kat left, i took a long bath and thought about the 3 movies i'd just watched: casablanca, legends of the fall, and we don't live here anymore. so when i picked up the weight of glory again, i found the words of c.s. lewis again more weighty than i had even the first time.

we should hardly dare to ask that any notice be taken of ourselves. but we pine. the sense that in this universe we are treated as strangers, the longing to be acknowledged, to meet with some response, to bridge some chasm that yawns between us and reality, is part of our inconsolable secret.

that is perhaps my greatest fear. that god will forget me. that he'll stop taking notice of me. that maybe i was better to him years ago, and there's not as much use for me now. that maybe he liked me better once upon a time, that - for as much as i do now - i can't go back and make up for the crap that's come between us. but to want to scream to him to notice me feels so wrong, so disrespectful, as though i don't understand he certainly has more important things on his plate than me. because i don't simply want him to look at me, i want him to walk with me, to talk with me, to hold my hand, to show me he wouldn't want to be without me. is that wrong? and yet i feel it.

that's all. i have no conclusions.

the peaches and herb party

2006-02-10T19:40:00.000-08:00

after spending hours this evening at my office in preparation for tomorrow's festivities, kat and i boarded the bus at 9 p.m. and sat sluggishly on the 22, exhausted and barely able to spare the energy to open our mouths and speak. until kat asked me about a mutual friend who lived in the neighborhood our bus had us venturing through.

"whatever happened to kate?" she asked. "i haven't spoken with her in over a year. do you ever run into her?"

sure, i'd seen her a couple times. kate had lived with us for a few weeks a couple summers ago, but unavoidable circumstances had driven a wedge into our relationship.

"it's been awhile," i replied. "i don't think i've seen her since summer."

the conversation launched us into a discussion of all those people who just disappear from your life. one minute they're in your call log as the most frequently dialed number, and the next, you're contemplating deleting their name during your annual cell phone clean-up.

seriously, what happens to those people?

on the bus, kat and i made a list of people who we thought it'd be most awkward to visit with again, people with whom we'd been estranged for years, people who we'd met for lunch and never seen again. and we decided to invite them to a peaches and herb party.

we wouldn't invite anyone we currently kept in touch with. just those old strangers. to make it really awkward. not just a little awkward, but a big awkward so no one could avoid the elephant in the room. and we'd all have to wear nametags with the picture of what we had looked liked the last time we saw each other. of course there'd be a bonfire because during those long pauses, you'd want to be able to stare into the fire and pretend like you were really thinking deeply about what the other person was saying, though really you'd be searching desperately to find some kind of common ground so it wouldn't be any more awkward than it was already. to top it off, kat suggested we serve peach schnapps and other herbal refreshments to calm everyone's nerves.

reuniting does not always feel so good. but why avoid it? we say, have your own peaches and herb party and get all the awkwardness out so you can get on with your lives. ours is slated for the end of june. if we haven't talked to you in the past year, we can't wait to see you then.

getting the green light

2006-02-09T15:26:00.000-08:00

dove dark chocolates don't stand a chance in our office. we devour them. put out a dish of those delectable candies and they're gone before you can say, "i really love dove dark chocolates. they're infinitely better than the milk chocolate ones. i'd also really like to see dove dark chocolates with nuts, like a dove dark chocolate turtle. i wonder if they'd be as good as esther price dark chocolate turtles. those are amazing."

(there are lots of chocolates in a bag - we can't possibly eat them THAT fast)

so this afternoon, i pulled out a dove dark chocolate from my secret stash (my public stash vanished days ago) and read my "dove promise": "you're allowed to do nothing."

we got a good laugh out of that in my office. sure, i'm allowed to do nothing, but that's not good for anyone.

anyway, it reminded me of a game a few friends and i had played on a trip to chicago over spring break during my junior year of college. along the lines of the "what if" and "would you rather" games i'm so fond of, this game pulled on biblical texts (ok ok, we were dorks. i don't deny it).

the question, pulled from 1 corinthians 10:23, was essentially this: what would you do right now if everything was permissible AND beneficial?

obviously, every 18- to 22-year-old single guy had the same answer. except for our friend matt, who without hesitation told us that he'd probably steal a few albums and then drive away at reckless speeds.

matt rocks.

suds on the roof

2006-02-07T15:21:00.000-08:00

i love talking in songs (listen to "have you seen her" as a prime example).

i'd love to become friends with a fiddler, a chef, a webmaster, and a carpenter.

i tried, but i'm not really a big fan of either u2's how to dismantle an atomic bomb or coldplay's x&y.

i wish i had really curly hair or really straight hair. one or the other. not a weird combination that you can't even call wavy.

i love how it was still light outside when i came home today.

i wish i had a restaurant right on a lake somewhere, a two-story wine bar/coffeehouse/restaurant that was all about the white tablecloths on the second floor and all about the chill factor on the first. the second floor would be the kind of fancy where people get engaged and the first floor would be the kind of chill where people get together to discuss the movie they just went to see.

let's go back to the fiddle. that's an ingenious instrument. last night, one of my alums fiddled at an event at which he was being honored. i love the sound of something sounding just a little off. it's perfect.

speaking of good music, the shawshank soundtrack is still one of my favorite albums of all time. it reminds me of madison during the spring of 2001, of opening my windows to see the red evening sky battling the approaching rain clouds. it reminds me of two conversations that spring which i can never forget to this day: of allison calling to say hello and me telling her shallowly that everything was fine and her saying calmly, like only allison can do, that she was praying for the exact thing i couldn't admit i was even thinking about. and of bible study with my girls, confessing and crying all that had been on my heart, but inside, feeling like no one could ever know how trashy and used up i felt, and then wendy praying for me and using the word "pure" to describe me. and how at once, i felt like maybe all my s*** wasn't going to get the best of me.

the best movie i have ever seen was not titanic, although i have certainly watched it more than my fair share. one scene i didn't like was when kate winslet's shoe slips as leonardo is trying to help her back aboard the ship. duh. of course her shoe was going to slip. we ALL saw that coming.

ecclesiastes is my favorite book of the bible and i'm interested to read again what matt wrote on his blog about job the other day. i love that kind of discussion.

i am scared to make mistakes. most especially with my heart. i know it sounds awful, but this fear is the thing that makes me most wish god would return already. it's why my heart aches so much when i see films like shawshank and legends of the fall and the mission and cold mountain. the wrong people always die. and because i get so scared, i feel like the easiest lesson would be never to take risks.

i don't know whether to live in the city or the suburbs or the country. i feel hungry for the country right now.

sometimes i come home and stare at myself in the mirror until i imagine i can see my soul.

i wrote 3 papers in college for language classes on the same subject - the last day of my junior year of high school.

i think in songs. whenever i hear something, i imagine the moment in the movie, in my life, in any imagined situation that i think the song was meant for. i once heard a song played at a wedding that, when i closed my eyes, seemed a better fit for the rather fugitive-esque scene i had running through my mind. i have inescapable memories attached to songs. someday, when jared gets too old to keep up the pace of his masterful moviemaking, i'll ask him to help me piece together all these songs in some sort of movie fashion. even if it's just something i end up passing down to my grandkids. and even if they think grandma's a loser, i'll force them to watch it while i eat peanut brittle and smoke cloves and play with the heavy fake jewelry around my neck.

i've never had my ears pierced. this is what makes mennonite men think i am also mennonite.

the best day ever, i think, will be when god heals everything.

and these are my thoughts on tuesday afternoon.

train of thought

2006-02-06T10:17:00.000-08:00

i'm wearing a white sweater and drinking a strawberry smoothie. which would be fine if i didn't have a bunch of events today. daring indeed. i was hungry when i went to the cafeteria, but the lunch options suggested otherwise. so i left with only my strawberry smoothie and the hope that i'll scrounge up enough cash here, there, and everywhere in my purse to treat myself to a decent lunch out. eventually.

today's a busy day. and the rest of the week is busy. so busy that the idea of it all invaded my dreams last night. i woke up a few times concerned about my clothes not being ironed or people not showing up or everything just falling together in front of me. and yet, the only real feeling i could latch on to in my dream was one of, "are you kidding? fine, whatever."

friends, this is what they call burn out.

so i got to work a little on my resume last night. regardless of what happens, it'll be good to update that thing (speaking of, am i supposed to keep my GPA on there 4 years after i've graduated?).

i admit, however, i was a little distracted listening to humphrey bogart and ingrid bergman as rick and ilsa discuss their tormented love affair in casablanca. katherine was watching it by herself in the family room, but "as time goes by" drew me away from the computer.

let's be honest. ilsa put herself in a hard place. so you think your husband is dead and you mourn for months and then you fall in love again? okay, but then send a message to your new boyfriend and TELL HIM that your husband is still alive. i think honesty would have saved them a lot of drama. i'm not saying it wouldn't have still really, really sucked for rick and ilsa, but, c'mon. of course rick is going to act like a jerk if you stood him up on the train platform the day you're supposed to take off together. and she should have been honest with laszlo as well.

i do feel the movie makes some true assessments. your heart can fall in love many times. there's not just ONE person in the world meant for you. and sometimes it blows because different people can call certain parts of your heart to your life. i think that's what ilsa discovered. i mean, harry and sally discuss it in their movie as well. what do you choose? a super passionate relationship with a bartender who's a little bit crooked? or a relationship with a visionary willing to die for something bigger but with whom you'll always come in second?

ugh.

Rick: I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.
Ilsa: But what about us?
Rick: We'll always have Paris. We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.
Ilsa: When I said I would never leave you.
Rick: And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that. Now, now... Here's looking at you kid.

ah yes, one of the greatest movie lines of all time. i'll raise my strawberry smoothie (very carefully) to that.

triple espresso soy almond latte OR ...

2006-02-02T14:07:00.000-08:00

The latest issue of Lark News examines God's will in the article, "Man seeks God's will over coffee selection." Too good not to share ...

After spending several months seeking the Lord, Brian Rutledge says God gave him the answer he sought: latte.

Rutledge's question: Did God prefer him to have a latte or cappuccino in the morning?

"I believe God is interested in the minutiae of my life," he says. "He knows every hair on my head; surely he has ideas about my actions throughout the day."

Rutledge says the coffee question bothered him for several years, and he felt guilty about being in "God's permissive will, but not his perfect will." Finally he decided to make it a matter of prayer.

"I have access to the God of the universe," he says. "Why not ask his opinion?"

He received his answer during early-morning prayer in the guest bedroom of his home. He rushed out to Starbucks and ordered a guilt-free grande latte.

"It was one of the great moments of my life," he says. "I knew without a doubt that I was in the very center of God's will."

But the relief didn't last long. Rutledge soon began to wonder if God minds if he adds sugar to his latte, and how many packets God prefers him to use, and whether Rutledge should use white sugar, unrefined sugar, Equal or even Sweet'N Low. Rutledge has made it a matter of "serious prayer" and is confident he'll receive an answer, since lately God has also helped him choose which kind of toothpaste to use, which side of the bed to sleep on, and whether to watch Hannity & Colmes at 6 p.m. or 9 p.m. •

i need a stage name

2006-02-01T19:01:00.000-08:00

if in the end it turns out that we actually get reincarnated, i'd really like come back as the next fiona apple.

let's pause for a moment to give her appropriate kudos for songs like "shadowboxer," "criminal" and "never is a promise."

who doesn't like her? selected as one of their 2006 top 99 women, askmen.com said "this waify singer/pianist may seem jaded, but if that's what has made her music as introspective and powerful as it is, then she can vent to us any day." certainly. of course, her 1997 VMA acceptance award - albeit childish - secretly makes me laugh to think of it ("this world is bullshit, and you shouldn't model your life on what you think that we think is cool, and what we're wearing and what we're saying," she proclaimed, and then proceeded to quote maya angelou).

i also like her because shadowboxer popped into my itunes in the moment i lost the blog i had just finished writing but had yet to publish. much to my roommate's great pleasure, i'm sure, her voice made prevented me from raging against this machine (it is, after all, katherine's computer).

seriously, if you don't have the tidal album yet, buy it asap. you don't want to wait for me to be reborn, find a sassy stage name and make it big. it may be awhile.

i may be strongly tempted to worship you

2006-01-29T14:07:00.000-08:00

the best part about flying is when you leave a dreary, overcast day behind and break through the clouds to where the sun seems to have just been awaiting your arrival so he could burst into your narrow, little airplane window and warm you all over with his sunbeams. my heart feels free up there above the clouds, like the sun and i were meant to be traipsing around those pillowy mountains together, jumping from one to the other, warm and laughing.

when my plane landed in midway this afternoon, i came home to the same dreary, overcast weather i'd left in minneapolis. i took the orange line up to the loop, the wide, picture windows of the el showcasing the whole of the downtown skyline. a little man got on at pulaski, shorter than me and as skinny, too. he wore glasses too wide for his small face and his big red marlboro-emblazoned parka hung over the suit he wore neatly underneath. his cheeks were red and dry. he stared out the window solemnly. his appearance struck me as caricature-like and i did my best to conceal my staring.

i finished c.s. lewis' first essay in his book, "the weight of glory," on the plane this morning, re-reading pieces of it over and over again. as i stared at this man, the last page came alive:

it is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. all day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one of other of these destinations. there are no ordinary people. you have never talked to a mere mortal .... our merriment must be of that kind which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously - no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption.

in that same way that i feel alive when the plane breaks through the cloudcover, when that little secret in me that hints at what more is yet to come than even this sings to my heart, when i feel i can imagine what real freedom looks like for even a moment, i wonder what makes this man feel freedom. feel comforted. feel the possibility of glory.

when i was in college, i couldn't stand guys with white hats (i know, it was a weird, unexplainable dislike), so, feeling once convicted about judging people so widely, i made an attempt to pick out those guys in crowds and imagine them as little boys. and i drew great big birthday parties around them with jesus standing just over their shoulders, or right next to them, or handing them presents. and i imagined what it was that jesus could be celebrating in them. that there was something valuable in those little hearts, in those big dreams, in those sky-high hopes. and if jesus thought it valuable, then i'd think it - and him - valuable, too.

it's still something i practice. honestly, i find i have to practice it more the older i get. i have more hurts built up, more memories of feeling slighted, attacked, patronized, and i'm quick to expect the worst now. what an ugly place. but if i really believe, as lewis says, that "next to the blessed sacrament itself, [my] neighbor is the holiest object presented to [my] senses," i can bear no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption against him. if i believe that "Glory Himself is truly hidden" in my neighbor, i must love - in all the fullness that LOVE is.

i hope i run into that man on the el in heaven someday and he turns out to be this beautifully handsome creature, fully glorified. meanwhile, i'll remember as i struggle against the impulse to snub, that someday, somewhere, i may be strongly tempted to worship that very person.

room for more

2006-01-28T09:24:00.000-08:00

after an absence of nearly 4 years, i got to have coffee with the woman whose sons i'd babysat for years growing up. the boys are 14 and 15 now, already a few years older than i was when i'd first gone to their house to watch them for an afternoon.

i swear she hasn't changed at all. she looks just the same as she did the first day i met her - dirty blonde hair just grazing her shoulders and a big smile, open and eager to laugh. she is really proud of her boys, talking about them as though they are heros in their own right. one is adopted; the other is biologically theirs. both are obviously enormously loved.

i remember the first time i found out the oldest was adopted. i had made a comment to lorilee that he seemed to look more like her husband every day. and then she told me that she and her husband were almost ready to tell him that he was adopted, so i should be prepared for any questions or any sudden changes in behavior. but there were none. robby didn't pay much mind to it.

evidently, he still doesn't. he's started to ref basketball games for middle school kids. he's too little to play the sport very well himself, but has found a way to channel his love for it into something active. lorilee, because she keeps in touch with his biological mom, recognized that this was the exact thing robby's birth mom had done with her love of basketball. so she'd asked robby if he wanted to know something about her. he said no.

i wonder what it's like to know you have a child and not have him in your arms. lorilee said that she and her husband see themselves often in their own biological son - how he makes decisions, what he likes to study, who he makes friends with. i think it's an incredible thing to know the biological parent(s) of your adopted child and to be able to watch for shared characteristics.

lorilee is an incredible mom. and she and her husband have raised two wonderful boys. i still think about robby's birth mom, though, and the choices she made. she never married or had children of her own. and yet, her flesh and blood, a little piece of her, is in the world.

what a big decision to make to entrust your child to someone else. i have all the respect in the world for anyone who's had to make that choice. i pray that god would be near to them. and i pray for peace and comfort in their hearts.

someday, if i ever get the chance, i'd really really like to adopt. i think our hearts were made to grow and expand to take in lots of people - adopted children or anyone - to love and care for. i hope i practice that now. i'd like to always be ready to take in more.

my baseball goiter

2006-01-27T09:11:00.000-08:00

i admit it. i used to be just a little flattered when a bum on the street whistled and winked at me. of course, i'm not making excuses for people who like to objectify women, and i also know they don't do it because they think - with any serious rationale - that i have such a look to carry me to the heights of america's next top model, but it does nothing to harm a girl's spirits to hear a stranger audibly and non-derogitorily (yes, that's a word for today) notice something attractive about her. so yes, i really don't mind accepting those recycled compliments tossed out to me and every other girl walking down the street. it makes me laugh. and i like to laugh.

it had been a few days since i'd received those light words. since monday, i'd been holed up in my apartment, recovering from a full 4-wisdom-teeth extraction. by tuesday evening, i had developed a baseball-size goiter on the left-hand side of my face, making my other slightly plump cheek look gaunt in comparison. the doctors had told me that everyone healed in their own time, and i shouldn't panic if i was still swollen two days later.

well, i panicked. and don't roll your eyes - i had good reason!

sleeping on wednesday night was no lullaby dream. i couldn't move from my right side, my neck uncomfortably propped atop two firm pillows, and my left cheek throbbing methodically, musically almost: ICE. me. ICE. me. ICE. me. i woke up several times throughout the night, finally reaching for my alarm at 6:10 a.m. and discovering a cold, wet spot of bloodstained drool on my pillow. lovely. i know.

the bathroom mirror confirmed my suspicions: the swelling hadn't decreased over night, nor had the redness returned to my my now dearly-missed pale shade of white. i looked hideous. and yet work called. and my flight home to mpls called. and then shelly called.

"how are you feeling?" she asked sympathetically.
"good. no, not good. awful, actually. my neck is stiff, my cheek is the size of a whiffle ball and my eye is red and bruising. but i guess, other than that, good."

i had mentioned to jon, poor jon, the day before that 3 days at home eating soft foods and watching mindless tv was not the picnic so many had made it out to be. i grew restless at home. after erin left in the morning, i'd count the hours till katherine came home. and all day long, i'd wait for my phone to ring, just to hear something REAL, something not brought to be my Tyra Banks or Maury Povich or The Brady Bunch. i needed people. lots of people. interaction.

before i realized this, however, i had made sure to lay all the blame on jon during our phone call one evening. did he not care enough to call me more than 3 times a day? wasn't he concerned i might die?! did he even like me as a person?!?!

fortunately, jon is a patient man and has already learned that - though comprised of often even an ounce of truth - much, much of what i saw in my distress has been dramatized for effect (hello, can you blame me? i was watching soap operas all day long!).

i think i heard him exhale slowly when i'd hit the end of my rant and decided i - an extrovert - had been suffering from forced post-op exile. again, thank goodness he really likes me.

so when i told shelly thursday morning that i was good, i meant it. i'd be at work, surrounded by people who had filled in for me, checked up on me, missed me, and had weekend stories yet to share with me.

granted, the way to work was no fun. but i sucked it up and stared at the ground, not wanting to smile apologetically for looking how i did nor wishing to stare anyone in the eye and frighten them so badly i'd appear as the Creepy One in their dreams that night.

i'd made it all the way to the corner of my office's intersection, pleased that on one had run in terror from me or screamed and handed me their children in fear. then deborah, my favorite waitress in the city, stepped out of the diner where i was waiting at the stoplight to cross the street.

more later ...

swollen

2006-01-25T09:23:00.000-08:00

i'll spare you the details of my wisdom teeth extraction, but suffice it to say i'm home for the third day in a row. i finally showered today, changed into new clothes and cleaned up the family room. i've been camping on our couch for the last two nights, partly because the tv there serves as good distraction from my discomfort, and partly because erin leaves her door open for me to call to her should i need her in the middle of the night.

i must say i'll be glad when the swelling goes down. right now, it's affecting only the left side of my face and throat and has recently climbed up just underneath my eye. and i'll be happy to eat real food - i've been so hungry for a hamburger, but the swelling only allows my mouth to open so far. instead, i've gotten a whole half of a pita down and 2 cups of applesauce. the nurses like to make things seem extra peachy when they tell you that getting your wisdom teeth out means you can watch movies and eat ice cream to your heart's content. hm. if you're lactose intolerant, eating ice cream is a bad idea. sad how it always takes me until AFTER i've eaten anything milky to learn that lesson.

it's been gorgeous out here the past few days, something i only notice through my windows. perhaps i'll take a walk today just to get some fresh air. i'd really like to go for a run since jon sent me a training schedule for the 8K i'm supposed to run in april. it started on monday but obviously i've been a little out of commission.

i'd also like to be at work since there's a lot going on and i feel like i just need to be there and get through it all. our big events are not even two weeks away. but it is what it is. maybe i'll write letters. i keep checking in to see who's blogging, but as laura wrote, everyone's been away from their computers recently, so i'll have to rely on something else to amuse me in my swolleness. bleh.

that's all. just thought i'd throw an update out there. thanks for thinking of me.

--

oh, and as a side note. the rash and tooth WERE related. it disappeared the same day i got my surgery done. sweet.

"malady mary" (or "maybe this is the end")

2006-01-20T13:09:00.000-08:00

i started off the abbreviated week with a little ear & throat cold. no biggie. i OD'd on ricola (yes, it's possible. don't try it unless you're eager for serious gut rot) and hot beverages and gallons of water to eschew any possibility of trading in that little cold for something bigger and nastier, namely the flu.

i shouldn't have been so specific.

i should have said i didn't want to make any sort of trade, that i wanted to get 100% better, period.

two days later, on thursday morning, i woke up feeling much better, well enough, i thought, to pick out something bright and pink from my closet. i threw on the turtleneck and tried to smile like i felt like a million bucks.

my still-recovering self reflected its disapproval in the mirror. i sighed and went for something basic and black. a few minutes later after changing, my neck began to itch a bit. it's the winter season, right? it's crazy dry here in the city and i didn't think anything about it.

at work, i regretted not wearing a turtleneck. turns out i had developed some sort of rash along the left side of my face and down my neck.

great.

but i couldn't spend too much time thinking about it since i - after losing my appetite to my cold, finally regained a healthy hunger - foolishly elected to eat the cafeteria's version of mexican enchiladas (read: velveeta "cheese" squeezed into crusty wraps). what can i say? when i'm really hungry, i forget that i'm lactose intolerant.

so after ridding myself of all that, my appetite returned again and i went for the thing closest to me. good ol' BBQ chips - a bite of which left me in pain way back in my mouth on the lower left side.

my wisdom tooth is coming in.

i mentioned it to a friend who told me to get it removed. i scoffed and pointed to the other wisdom tooth already in. "this one came in just fine. those dentists, they tell you you have to have your teeth removed just to make an extra dollar. my parents didn't have their wisdom teeth removed. so if it was good enough for them, then it's good enough for me."

i will have to swallow my words.

this morning, it hurt real bad.

i visited the school's nurse to ask her if benadryl (for my weird rash) and aleve (for my tooth) taken together would kill me.

"mary," she said gently, "i don't think those two things are separate issues. i think you've got an infection in your wisdom tooth and it's getting into your bloodstream." she placed a bunch of mirrors around me so she could get a better look at the back of my mouth. that seemed to confirm her suspicions.

tomorrow, i'm meeting with an oral surgeon.

...

at least it's not the avian bird flu. i guess that's good news.

a nine pound hammer or a woman like you

2006-01-19T09:15:00.000-08:00

if you haven't yet listened to ray lamontagne, please visit his site now. and make sure you tune into the song, jolene, which has quickly become the song on repeat in my office. it is beautiful.

enjoy.

Jolene
Cocaine flame in my bloodstream
Sold my coat when I hit Spokane
Bought myself a hard pack of cigarettes in the early morning rain
Lately my hands they don't feel like mine
My eyes been stung with dust, I'm blind
Held you in my arms one time
Lost you just the same
Jolene
I ain't about to go straight
It's too late
I found myself face down in the ditch
Booze on my hair
Blood on my lips
A picture of you, holding a picture of me
in the pocket of my blue jeans
Still don't know what love means
Still don't know what love means
Jolene
Ah, La, La, La, La, La
Jolene
Been so long since I seen your face
or felt a part of this human race
I've been living out of this here suitcase for way too long
A man needs something he can hold onto
A nine pound hammer or a woman like you
Either one of them things will do
Jolene
I ain't about to go straight
It's too late
I found myself face down in the ditch
Booze in my hair
Blood on my lips
A picture of you, holding a picture of me
In the pocket of my blue jeans
Still don't know what love means
Still don't know what love means
Jolene
La, La, La, La, La, La, La
Jolene
La, La, La, La, La, La, La
Jolene

Nuclear Crisis

2006-01-18T10:33:00.000-08:00

Evidently, India and Pakistan have begun their third round of peace talks. What's on the table? Discussions of the countries' nuclear arsenals and methods to reduce hostilities over the disputed Kashmir region. Earlier attempts at peace following the October earthquake at the Indian-Pakistani border have made little impact:

An Indian offer to provide much-needed helicopters to Pakistan's quake zone was turned down because Musharraf's government would not accept Indian military pilots flying them.Even the smallest gesture - the opening of five border points where Kashmiris could theoretically cross the frontier - has been mired in so much red tape as to be largely meaningless. Just 750 people have been able to cross, officials say.

I don't get it. It frustrates me so much that all of this is going on. I find myself particularly annoyed when I hear that an agenda includes the issue of nuclear arsenals. I mean, what? I just feel like nuclear weapons are maybe the stupidest things I have ever ever ever heard of. Who is that intent on killing? Obliterating an entire region of people? Why? And if you do it, it's not like you've cleared the land for your own use. So yeah, everyone you hated is now dead but so is the land. So you destroy your own world. I just don't get it.

I was playing that nobel prize peace doves game again this past weekend and it still sticks with me. Why do we even allow 5 states to have nuclear weapons? Is it necessary for ANYONE to have even one? No. No, no, no, no, no.

Maybe someday, someone will stop inventing things like chin pumps and create something REALLY useful - like nuclear weapon interceptors that completely and forever deactivate any and all nuclear weapons in the entire galaxy.

pump the breaks

2006-01-17T14:47:00.000-08:00

this is a good idea: celerbate adbuster's slow down week, january 15-21.

need encouragement? watch their slow down week flash spot here.

in honor of the week, i'm not posting anything new. actually, i had nothing new to say, but this "slow down week" is a good excuse to not write anything while simultaneously making me look like i'm on the cutting edge of confronting the man.

sweet.

worth and value

2006-01-11T20:11:00.000-08:00

i leave tomorrow morning for michigan with 25 high schoolers. we'll take the 4 1/2 hour train ride together east and spend the weekend at a conference at the university there. this is the fourth time i've taken this trip - and may very well be the last - so i look forward to it rather bittersweetly.

it's too late for me to be writing now. i have yet to pack, but i've just gotten home from dinner with annie and, as it always happens when i meet her, i have so much on my mind i couldn't possibly sleep. i made sure to order a drink so that my body would put me to sleep if my mind tried to argue against it. i'm sure my fingers will stop typing so quickly soon enough, but i figured i'd write while i've still got juice in me ...

i sit across from annie at uncommon ground. this is our meeting place. i haven't seen my favorite waiter there in ages, which i'm guessing means he's moved on to different things. i miss him, though i am learning to develop affections for the newest group of servers. change is good, i think.

annie agrees. after years of rallying against it, she's decided that change is, in fact, a good thing. the daughter of parents who dedicated their lives to improving the quality of life for people identified as disabled, annie has recently begun to see where activism and determination can potentially lead. she speaks with such passion, so that i am readily inclined to clap or shout her last name in repitition as she goes.

annie says that all she really wants is validation. she can do without praise or the like, but affirmation that, yes, she may indeed have a point? she craves it. i know i do.

someone tell me my thoughts are worthwhile, that i might be on to something, that i could offer something to the world, that my life isn't in vain.

what does it mean to validate someone's existence? to speak to their worth? to not have to agree with everything they think, say, do, but to acknowledge that they ARE?

i'm gonna practice it this weekend. 25 hormonal teenagers and me. wish me luck.

forget abc's the bachelor

2006-01-10T18:36:00.000-08:00

jamie slid off the bar stool and slipped slowly into his long, camel-colored wool coat. he patted the backs of the boys at the table and kissed the girls' cheeks, catching their gaze long enough to say goodbye and express how much he'd enjoyed seeing all of them. he sauntered over to me and asked if i'd be taking the brown line home, and, if yes, could he accompany me to the station. i agreed, and slid off my bar stool, which was followed by the echo of the seven others at our table getting on their feet carefully after an evening of sangria and tapas and throwing on their own coats.

i've known jamie for 3 and a half years. when i first met him, i had only heard of him through a friend of his (henry) who i'd enjoyed having a temporary crush on. i expected jamie to be much like henry, and so was surprised when jamie had turned out to be quieter, more formal and actually rather poor at conversation, relying more on looks that seemed to express his intent that no, i had it wrong, i would be the one to divulge all the details of my life, and he would be the one to ask all the questions.

whether my memory of that first encounter is correct or not (in all honesty, i had fallen asleep on my hand in my hotel room right before i'd met him and was particularly consumed with the fear he'd notice the fingerprints and ring designs imprinted on the right hand side of my face), my interactions with him since have better rounded out my impression.

at 5'11" with reddish-brownish hair and a well-groomed beard, jamie is handsome enough - especially with his glasses. he introduces himself as though you've already earned his respect, something you sense you've given him without ever even thinking about it. his haughty eyes can be forgiven, since his laugh and do-gooderness are quick to chime in and put you at ease. his education is outstanding, his family relations admirable, and his success is indeed enviable.

jamie is the perfect bachelor.

but here's the catch - i think he also knows he's the perfect bachelor.

since i've known him, jamie has seriously dated no fewer than 8 women. and oh yes, they're all a type. not his type, i'd argue, but a type nonetheless.

on our ride home together this evening, i spoke about a friend of mine who's probably the most outdoorsy woman i've ever met. as i described a recent adventure she'd taken, jamie's eyes lit up: "wow, she sounds exactly like the kind of girl i'd want to be with." absolutely. jamie LOVES all sports, all things outdoors, all volunteer work, all things that embrace life.

but has jamie ever dated a sporty girl? an outdoorsy girl? a volunteering girl? no. but every girlfriend of his who i've met has definitely had their intention on embracing something. it just happens to be him. he plays soccer? she (#7) cheers him on from the stands in a modern day laura ashley dress. he backpacks across the states? she (#4) resists accompanying him, but begs him to call her everyday from the road (don't ask me how i know this, but trust me). he dreams big? she dreams of simply being his.

in all honesty, it's a little heartbreaking.

i have to wonder, does he not want to try dating the girl of his dreams and find she's not all he hoped? is he really hoping the "opposites attract" philosophy will eventually land him the love of his life? has he possibly so grown to love his own charm that the ability to woo is stronger than the desire to love? just questions, just questions.

before jamie got off at his stop tonight, henry came up in conversation and i asked jamie if he'd met his new girlfriend yet. "yeah," he said, offering a disapproving look. "she's ok."

"and how are things going with you and your girlfriend?" i countered. "this is still the one from the soccer game, right?"

"no, that ended awhile ago ..." he paused and stopped to look out the window as we approached the platform. "so this is my stop."

i smiled.

he returned the smile. "yeah, new girl. she's great. we'll see." he kissed my cheek and winked at me. "so i'll see you soon, right?"

i laughed. yes, mr. charm-is-deceptive, and how i'd like to kiss your cheek goodnight, tell you that i have a soft spot in my heart for you, and then praise god that i'm not dating you.

"yeah, jamie," i said, stifling a loving chuckle. "see you soon."

i love milwaukee

2006-01-08T19:36:00.000-08:00

saturday night, rachel, joe, laura, kat and i piled into a dirty baby blue leather booth at a corner dive in milwaukee's bay view neighborhood. the place appears to have had no face lifts in the 41 years of its existence, its dark wood illuminated only by shallow candles and orange christmas lights decorating an island of seemingly dead brush surrounded by intimate sets of the same dirty baby blue leather booths we were in. at random, it's called, a name random indeed for a lounge that might better be called the 1970s time warp.

frank sinatra's moon river was playing when we entered the bar, so my heart was instantly hopeful to fall in love with this little at random bar. the 60-some gray-haired host, convinced of our legal drinking age because we told him plainly that we were all over 21, led us past table after table of couples sharing tub-like glasses of some huge tropical rum concoction. as we later learned, the "tikki love bowl" is brought to the table with a flame atop it, and can only be blown out by the couple together after they've looked deep into each other's eyes and made a secret wish. this is good marketing.

it reminded me a bit of a place i went to in LA a few years back, the stinking rose, i believe it was called. it had the same orangish lighting and dark wood and made me feel like tom selleck would be rounding the corner in a leisure suit at any moment.

rachel, kat and i all ordered the peanut butter cup ice cream drink (with a mountain of reddi-whip on top - i was sold from the first sip). i could have sat in that booth for hours, watching couples silently sip their bowls of island-flavor-infused rum and watching others whisper into each other's ears and get lost in their own private conversations. that's what i love. watching people love each other, and not caring one iota who - if anyone at all - notices them. i admire people like that. i want to be like that.

i don't want the show. i don't need to go the top-rated restaurants and i don't want to care who's being seen or doing the seeing or whatever that phrase is. i want to feel comfortable in my own skin, and accept other people in their own skin.

it never fails that whenever i go up to wisconsin, i see someone dressed as though they got up in the morning and thought it was still 1985. and to this person i say, thank you. thank you for making me laugh at myself and how caught up i get in where my jeans fall on my hips and how much time i spend thinking about how impressed everyone else would be if they saw i had such great "chicago style." to that person with bangs as high as the ceiling and tapered pants cut at the ankle and pastel esprit sweatshirts hanging down way past your hips, thank you.

and to this 1965 lounge tucked away in the middle of a quiet little neighborhood, thank you for making room for me in your time warp. i felt at home.

nobel prize fun

2006-01-06T17:25:00.000-08:00

ok, you have GOT to visit www.nobelprize.org. before i head out with my friend abby tonight, i've been spending some time digging around the internet, checking out sites related to poverty and linked to an article by a nobel peace prize winner. besides being way readable, the site has these great simluation games inspired by prize-winning achievements.

so first, i got to be the trade ruler of the pink country in which i had to trade jeans and cell phones for the welare of my country. turns out i'm not very good at economics, and even though my people eventually appreciated the work i did on their behalf, they felt my trading skills were rather poor in the beginning. i probably should have listened better in econ

figuring that peace was more my thing, i played the peace doves game and succeeded in disarming seven countries of their nuclear weapons AND learned some super fascinating things along the way. can you believe there are 5 so-called "nuclear weapon states" who are allowed to have nuclear weapons according to the non-proliferation treaty of 1970? doesn't that seem wrong?

i also learned that there was an outer space treaty of 1967 which forbids stationing or possession of nuclear weapons in a space vehicle orbiting earth. i mean, for real? are we that crazed about killing each other? is that how you would go about protecting your family? creating missles? and, i mean this in a loving and forgiving way, but what psychopath spends his time creating nuclear weapons? hello! someone invite this kid to join in your intramural league games. or ask him over for dinner. seriously, at what point does some kid go from playing games with his friends to thinking about world domination? something is not right.

anyway, i'm in the middle of my lord of the flies game. i don't recommend it unless you really know the book. but man, is it challenging my memories of 11th grade british lit ...

poor

2006-01-05T17:39:00.000-08:00

If you received the December issue of Sojourners Magazine, you couldn't have missed the article on sociologist Nelson Good. According to Sojo's editors, Good, who recently passed away, was "an apt example of incarnate grace in the world. The physical structures Nelson helped build will stand for some time, but it's what he built with his life that's instructive and inspiring. Nelson wasn't perfect by any means, but he was a tireless advocate for others, an accepting, generous person who was interested in what others had to say. He made people feel good about their contributions and about themselves, and he was deliberate about being in relationship with others."

Since reading the article many weeks ago now, one particular section has remained burned on my brain, and I find myself contemplating it many times a day:

Nelson and Betty bought their first house with another young couple and arranged the space to accommodate both families, with a shared living room. It was practical, but it also expressed their values—the arrangement "allowed community to happen," as Betty put it, but didn't force people into community. It saved money, but Nelson always had a larger vision for frugality. People who managed to live happily on less had more freedom. They could work at jobs that allowed room for family life, or for causes they believed in. It was all part of a strategy for building community, the web of relationships that starts with the family and extends outward.

In recent discussion with friends, we've talked about how our society has been set up to separate us. You have your single-family unit and I have mine. Here's where my yard ends and yours begins. See this fence? My property. Yours, mine, and very little ours.

Honestly, I've dreamnt of owning a huge house all my life. A house where every room is ready for guests at any moment, and where I can hold a ball for all my friends and neighbors in a room with floor-t0-ceiling windows and a spiraling staircase I can swoosh down in my beautiful gala gown, all the while balancing my glass of champagne in one hand while placing my hand on the back of a good friend to let her know I am fully immersed in her story. My backyard would provide acres of running room for my kids and the vineyard would provide my income.

And then a few months ago, I read a book that radically pushed me in another direction. Henri Nouwen writes in his book, In The Name Of Jesus:

The way of the Christian leader is not the way of upward mobility in which our world has invested so much, but the way of downward mobility ending on the cross. This might sound morbid and masochistic, but for those who have heard the voice of the first love and said yes to it, the downward-moving way of Jesus is the way to the joy and the peace of God, a joy and peace that is not of this world.

Here we touch the most important quality of Christian leadership in the future. It is not a leadership of power and control, but a leadership of powerlessness and humility in which the suffering servant of God, Jesus Christ, is made manifest ... Powerlessness and humility in the spiritual life do not refer to peole who have no spine and who let everyone else make decisions for them. They refer to people who are so deeply in love with Jesus that they are ready to follow him wherever he guides them, always trusting that, with him, they will find life and find it abundantly.

The Christian leader of the future needs to be radically poor, journeying with nothing except a staff. What is good about being poor? Nothing, except that it offers us the possibility of giving leadership by allowing ourselves to be led ....

I read that line over and over again: The Christian leader of the future needs to be radically poor. And I think about Nelson Good and communities like The Simple Way. Then I think about the things I buy, or the ideas I buy into. I think about the way I view other peoples' successes and how I measure in comparison. I've grown into an idea that says to be independent is the best way to be. It can't be! I'm not happy being this independent. I'm not happy getting everything I want. Not that it's even all about being "happy."

Sorry. I'll avoid tangents. Just been thinking a bit on dependency and money and spending and following Jesus. Okay, I'm thinking on it a lot.

why he makes my heart so full

2006-01-02T15:29:00.000-08:00

i'm surprised at how full my heart feels right now. after the last of my new years guests left this morning, i expected a rather sudden shift of emotion south, but instead i'm here, basking in the white christmas lights strung all over my home, each ivory candle lit, a bouquet of yellow daisies in the middle of the table (sent to my poor, sick roommate kat to lift her spirits), and laura's 2005 mix cd in my speakers.

i am missing everyone, but am so happily savoring the moments of the past few days in detail tonight, closing my eyes and remembering the things i moved too quickly through in the last week.

christmas thrills seemed lacking this year, though i admit i didn't miss the hoopla much. i worked right up till christmas eve and barely made the gift-giving deadline for my own family (and yes, i'm still delayed in giving presents to some folks). december was a hard month for me in many ways, and i think my energy was so focused there that i had little left over for running through shopping malls or fighting the crowds on michigan avenue or sitting in front of a computer screen surfing for the "right" (i.e. last minute, this-will-have-to-do) presents.

i think christmas shopping annoys me the same way january at the gym bothers me. EVERYONE is there. i don't mind shopping; i just like it when there aren't as many people so you can people-watch peacefully without fearing you'll be blindsided by overzealous parents bent on scooping up anything, anything, to satisfy their children's need to compete with friends once school resumes in january. but i digress ....

this holiday wasn't accented by ornament-hanging or caroling or any sort of high school reunioning; there weren't any touching moments at manger scenes or any new revelations about the birth of the baby jesus.

but, oh! if you could have had this - cooking salmon for your family, eating dinner with adam go, visiting jon's family for an afternoon, spending time with jon and josh watching anne of green gables (thanks for indulging me, guys), grocery shopping for the new years soiree with laura, hearing shelly call me back to say that yes, she and mark and jonathan were coming to chicago, seeing and talking with the finesilvers, laughing at how funny jenny is, enjoying the haberls' sweet and easy company, spending real quality time with my boyfriend who i love steadily more every day, eating pancakes with erin, sarah and chris, waking up to thunderstorms this morning, understanding that god is sweet in his gift-giving ...

yes, i love that god became man in jesus. and i celebrate that. i love that he talked with people and walked with people. i love that he actually was here in flesh.

but i think the best thing as i think about it tonight is the holy spirit left with us like a gift. more real than my memories of friends playing games on new years and then dancing to my ipod's running mix after the ball dropped. more real than even the little things they left behind when they got in the car to drive back to minneapolis, madison or milwaukee.

more real is this holy spirit that keeps me company in the quiet of my home tonight. his presence so real i think my heart could burst as i relate all this to him. he is good company. because for all my excitement and joy over my friends, he feels it even more. and in telling him of all my joy, it almost feels like his presence swells in me, delighted that i caught just a bit of what it is about them that HE loves so much.

i think He is what is making my quiet home tonight so warm. and yeah, i think He is what is making my nervous heart tonight so abundantly full.

things will all come around

2005-12-22T12:57:00.000-08:00

my heart is full. giddy, off-the-wall, over-the-top full.

i just had lunch with some of my core college-age volunteers. my favorites, if you will. i don't care if you're not supposed to have favorites. i do. and as they walked in the door of the california pizza kitchen, i could feel my whole heart leap to see them.

the 13 of us chatted over pizza for 2 hours, talking about katrina, clinton, possible majors, break-ups, and how your roommates should be the ones to hook you up.

i liked their volunteerism and idealism; they liked my pigtail braids and "youthfulness."

i promise you, no matter where i am in 10, 20, or 30 years, i will stand behind these kids. i feel like they're mine. and when i took their photo outside the restaurant at the end of the lunch, well, for as cheesy as it sounds, i found my heart in the viewfinder. 12 kids whose hearts and lives were so wonderfully made.

where else do you meet a 21-year-old boy who is okay with sucking up his pride and announcing with a wide grin all over his reddened face, "katy? dumped me. day after our 1-year anniversary. i thought she was asking me to come outside to show me she'd gotten me a surprise. well, i guess it was a surprise. i went from this (stretches his hand as tall as himself) to this (hand at ground) in 5 minutes." he laughs. "she wants to get back together now, but the k-train has left the station." i very much love him.

and i love the way the kids receive him: "you're so candid, it's incredible," "you won't be single for long," "you're such an awesome guy."

i think heartbreak is healthy. and i'm sure it sounds a little evil, but i do hope for everyone i know that their hearts break at some point. i don't know how you can ever truly relate and understand someone else until your heart has ached. to have your broken heart be loved on by someone else who's ever experienced a broken heart (be it by boyfriend/girlfriend, menacing friend, angry parent, whatever)? really, the healing that comes from that kind of empathetic understanding is unlike anything; it's ... miraculous.

when we departed ways, i hailed a cab and sat in the back looking through the photos of these eager, hopeful, youthful kids and smiled.

someday, god, i want 10 children. i don't care if they're all biologically mine, or if i've adopted them, or if they're just kids in the community who want a home to belong in, lord, i just know my heart is most fully alive in moments like this.

and to top it off? my old friend brian who i've long admired and respected sent me an email which noted he'd begun a blog. so, yes, of course, yay blogs! but also, i love being in touch with brian. he was a good friend to me when it mattered and there are too few of his kind in the world. so i absolutely recommend you drop by to read a few of his thoughts.

lord, thank you for friends. thank you for community. thank you for making us with hearts so big they could burst. you bless me.

italics stolen from karin bergquist

2005-12-21T18:13:00.000-08:00

dear jesus,

there is talk lately among my friends about there being no hell. i suppose i don't know what to think about that. i would hope you would draw all people to yourself. i would hope i share you because i know that life is better with you.

I follow you from town to town
I need it
I'm better off when you're around
I mean it

You are the longing of my life. Did you show me that this afternoon? Was it You who allowed that to resonate in my soul?

Sooner or later
Things will all come around again
Sooner or later
I won't need anything
Anything at all

At Kopi here tonight, i dream of the bohemian life, dream of being in madison, but a madison of far greater age and racial and economic diversity even. i dream of prayer groups, and coffee talks, of not being afraid, and of falling in love.

I walk these streets alone at night
When it hurts me
A perfect life's an oversight
You curse me

Perhaps this is heaven to me. Lord, what do you know of heaven?

Should've known better
Than this esoteric love
Down to the letter
It don't mean anything
Anything at all

Father, if you see my heart, you know I have questions. You know I would earnestly like your input and direction. I know You think I'm capable of making my own decisions (though I sigh and chuckle a little at this), so I'll do my best since You have equipped me so well.

You and I

Oh Jesus. I have so many thoughts in this head of mine. I am trying to discern You in the midst.

I wrestle with these guilty thoughts
And I'm losing
You're all I am I'm what you're not
Confusing

Oh who knows what's possible? While my dear, intelligent, thoughtful friends wonder about the realities of hell, I wonder if the abundant life looks anything like I thought it did. That's the thing I just can't reconcile in my faith. Here we are in the great big US of A with every possible thing at our fingertips, our every need so easily satisfied, with the promise of the pursuit of happiness our inalienable right. What about the 13000 individuals who are infected with HIV daily? Or the estimated 12-27 million in forced labor or slavery in the world today? What does the abundant life look like to them?

Sooner or later
Things will all come around for good
Sooner or later I won't need anything
Anything at all

But God, right now, all I know is I begged You for an undivided heart. And I believe that in Your extreme goodness and perfect love, You asked for my heart and I willingly gave it. You are undeniably good.

All I can do is follow You from town to town. I need it.