From darkness to light

The people who walk in darkness
Will see a great light;
Those who live in a dark land,
The light will shine on them.
~~ Isaiah 9:2


The night before the birth that changed the world, there was no hum of anticipation. The people whose families hailed from Bethlehem were gathering there again in droves, no doubt grumbling over Roman tax laws and the difficulty of finding rooms. The shepherds were spending another dirty, smelly night with the sheep, those stupidest of animals. Astronomers from miles and miles away were watching the skies, as usual. Pharisees and other religious leaders were offering up prayers for a Messiah of their own imagining, someone to kill the Roman invaders and restore Israel to all its Davidic glory. Perhaps a man named Simeon--closing his eyes after another long day, feeling his age--would have felt one day closer to the consolation he'd been yearning for, but perhaps he was one of few.

When Matthew references the prophet Isaiah, he does it like this:

"The people who were sitting in darkness saw a great light,
And to those who were sitting in the land and shadow of death,
Upon them a light dawned."
~~ Matthew 4:16

Not physical darkness, but the darkness of a land ruled by death. Not just walking, but sitting. Waiting for the inevitability of the shadow.

And then one new baby cries.

Elsewhere, in the fields with the watching shepherds, the night explodes in light and in song--the first sign that the child who has left glory pulls glory in after him. But most of Israel is sleeping. Nobody told them that everything would change that night.

Long ago, when the church scheduled a commemoration of this unremarkable yet miraculous night, they chose a time of year that coincided with pagan festivals celebrating the winter solstice, the longest night that (finally) gave way to the returning sun. Now, on Christmas, we celebrate the turning from a deeper darkness than the dead of winter, and a light that both preceded and will outlast the sun. Now, every day, in the midst of whatever darkness threatens to overwhelm us, we remember the Incarnation.

Because the glory of God breaks forth when we least expect it.

Deflection

Tonight I had a serious conversation about origins, specifically from the viewpoints of young earth six day and old earth framework. It was the sort of discussion I have experienced all too rarely since graduating from college: voices were raised infrequently and lowered quickly, opinions were stated calmly, and in general the participants seemed more concerned for each other than for the outcome of the discussion.

I am not saying that doctrinal stances are unimportant, or that there aren't times when you need to take a firm stand against a position that is leading somebody into sin, or that the Word can mean two contradictory things at the same time. But as we were talking about Genesis, and then beginning to touch on Revelation, it occurred to me that I can't remember the last time I had a conversation that was nearly this in-depth about how I am living.

Or as I said to my friend on the other side of the coversation, maybe we talk so much about the beginning of things and the end of things so we don't have to talk about things here in the middle.

It's easy for me to list off reasons why I believe that God created the world in six 24 hour days. It's easy for me to argue over end times scenarios. But please don't let's talk about how we're doing here in the present moment, because I so much want and don't want all that to be known.

What do you think of women as elders?

Christmas time is here. Cue Vince Guaraldi.

When I was about seven or eight years old, my parents sat my brother and I down and told us that we would not be celebrating Christmas that year. They were tired of the commercialization, they weren't sure the holiday as celebrated was honoring to God, and so they took a break. I respect them for that.

I missed Christmas. I don't remember missing the presents much. We got presents at birthdays, after all. I did miss the family gatherings. And maybe even more, I missed the time my immediate family used to spend decorating the tree together: my mom and dad getting all of the old ornaments out; my brother and I arguing a bit over who got to put up which ornament; my dad picking us kids up so we could hang things on higher branches.

I don't know that my parents ever intended to resume celebrating Christmas, but about five years later we did. Sort of. We started exchanging gifts again (I remember my dad taking us to the mall on Christmas Eve to shop for mom). We started going to family functions. I have especially fond memories of the kids' table at the Fleagle gatherings, none of us knowing how few years we'd really have left when we were all really still kids, young and ignorant and invulnerable.

But even as that five year hiatus becomes a smaller and smaller percentage of my life, I still have ambivalent feelings towards the holiday. I would imagine living outside of the country for five years as a child would have a similar effect in certain ways.

I don't feel like I get Christmas. I don't understand it on a procedural level. What if somebody gets you a gift and you don't have a gift for them? What if you get cards from everybody and you never send cards back? In either of these cases, might the people in question simply write you off as a sorry excuse for a friend?

Christmas cards are harder than gifts. I like getting them, especially the newsy cards or the photo cards. The photo cards always go on my fridge, and they make me happy all year. But I don't think I've ever yet sent a Christmas card. Whenever I think of doing it, a voice in the back of my head starts whining about landfills, or about how I haven't had an interesting enough year to write a newsy update, or how I have enough for a newsy update but I've procrastinated too long, or...etc., etc.,etc. Lots of excuses. So to everyone who sends me a card every year and receives nothing in return...thanks, and I don't deserve you.

I haven't decorated a Christmas tree in 20 years. I have ornaments from various friends (somewhere), but no tree. Where would I put one? And would it even be anywhere near as enjoyable of an experience to decorate a tree without my family? My only real "Christmas decorations" (really sort of winter decorations, in that I put them away by spring) are two stuffed bears: one from Grandma Crowe, who gave me a Winnie-the-Pooh in winter garb; one from Grandma Winter, who gave me a bear dressed in green and red, a bear that has been a Winter Christmas decoration for years and years.

Both of these bears make me feel close to family, make me feel loved, and make me feel like a small girl who isn't all that big and grown-up after all.

Tangible love meets a need for something bigger than self....

And that's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.

Addendum to my second-to-last post, "You Are Cordially Not Invited...."

This came over through our church email today, and considering my recent post it made me smile.

"CORRECTION FOR 80'S NEW YEAR’S PARTY: The announcement for this party should have read 'teens of the 80's', instead of 'children of the 80's'. Here's some updated information: Attention: TEENAGERS of the 80's & their spouses...."

You know.

Just in case you accidentally thought you could come.

Single Focus

Just what is it that single people can do so uniquely? I hear frequently that single people are better equipped to serve God in unique ways. I rarely hear anybody explain what they mean by this.

Do they mean “single people aren’t as busy, so they can be more active in the church”?

If they think single people are not busy, they are wrong. I may not have any extra people to clean up after, but neither do I have anybody to help me clean up. Or carry groceries. Or make dinner. (As an aside, I have a good number of friends who are awesome at making dinner for me. Which is always much appreciated.)

Do they mean “we have no idea what we are talking about”?

Quite possibly. I know I talk about a lot of things without always knowing what I’m talking about, and there are very few significant differences between me and someone who is married in that regard.

Do they mean “single people are better positioned to keep their focus on God than married people are?”

Because that’s what Paul says. (I Corinthians 7 doesn’t seem to be discussed much in any of the churches I’ve attended.) “But I want you to be free from concern. One who is unmarried is concerned about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord; but one who is married is concerned about the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and his interests are divided. The woman who is unmarried, and the virgin, is concerned about the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and spirit; but one who is married is concerned about the things of the world, how she may please her husband.” (I Cor. 7:32-34) I have personally found that male/female relational drama on a far less intense level than marriage can distract me in extremely detrimental ways, and I always come out the worse for looking in the wrong direction.

I hope that when the church talks about the unique placement of single people, what we mean is that single people are uniquely gifted with single focus—they don’t have to please a spouse, so they can concentrate on pleasing God. And if they focus intently on pleasing God and He sends a spouse, then they will have made it a habit to practice serving God first, and their marriage will be stronger and more of a blessing because of it. And if they focus intently on pleasing God and He does not send a spouse, then they will have made it a habit to practice serving God first, and they will be stronger and more of a blessing because of it.

If at any time we see singleness primarily as a bookend to marriage, or if marriage supplants the glory of God as the ultimate goal of life, we have an idolatry problem, and we need to address that. Contrariwise, if at any time we see singleness as freedom to serve ourselves, or marriage as a trap waiting to be sprung, we have an idolatry problem there, too. We can turn to either marriage or singleness as a source of satisfaction or security, but neither will answer—satisfaction and security are found in God alone.

There is nothing wrong with me that marriage—or anything else, no matter how humanly great it is; or my very own self, for that matter—can fix. There is nothing wrong with me that God can't fix. Or even that He won't fix, in time.

Call it His unique specialty.

You Are Cordially Not Invited....

I just received an email notice about three New Year's Eve parties hosted by various members for my church. One is for "children of the 80's," one is for young couples, and one is for Baby Boomers.

You might be able to read between the lines and say that "child of the 80's" means anybody who likes the 80's. But the others seem...segregationist.

I understand that it is good to be able to associate with people in your stage of life. I feel quite encouraged to be with single women of my age group. (I can't think of any at my church beside me, but the principle stays the same, I guess.) I just feel a little twingy when I see notes in the bulletin saying things like, "Hey, all the young couples/old couples/baby boomers/moms/wives/etc./etc. are getting together for awesome fun!"

Maybe it's because I don't feel like I have a niche (although I do). Maybe it's because I feel like nobody in these groups would want to talk to anybody who wasn't in the group (although I'm sure they would).

There is some part of me underneath all the feeling sorry for myself that knows we can all learn from each other, no matter our age or where we are in life, and that remembers feeling strangely cut off when I went to college and spent most of four years in groups of fellow students who were roughly my age.

But sometimes it's buried deeper underneath than I'd like.

My social schedule isn't affected by any of these parties this year, anyway. I'm pretty sure all Harvest single women between 25 and 30 are going to be spending the holiday week with my family.

On Anonymity in Comments

I was just reading a friend's blog, in which she was ruminating over a problem she had been having with an anonymous commenter. It got me thinking about the purpose of leaving comments at all.

Personally, I only invest time in blogs of those I consider friends. Some are more internet friends than others, but I still feel we have something in common, if only a mutual appreciation for similar things. If I'm investing time in a friend, I can surely invest a bit of extra time by leaving a comment now and then. And I know how much it encourages me when I receive comments, and why wouldn't I want to pass that on?

I think what bothers me about anonymous comments, aside from (perhaps alongside of?) the "stalker" aspect, is that to me the purpose of commenting is an entering into someone else's life. It says "I like your writing," or "I take you seriously," or "thanks for the challenging viewpoint," or "I appreciate you," or some combination of those things. If you comment anonymously, you disallow what tenuous sort of community the internet provides. It's cheap and it's cowardly--the opposite of friendly.

(I know that Brittany can ferret out all her anonymous commenters, so I know some people leave comments on her blog that are only "anonymous" to the other readers. But most of us don't have any idea how she works that magic.)

Anyway, it's one thing to leave a comment on a stranger's blog, but it's another thing not to leave any sort of name with it. It's kind of like honking at a woman who's out walking. And you know how I feel about that.

Another reason why I like birds more than I like dogs

When it gets dark, Apollo turns off. He doesn't scream repeatedly in the middle of the night for no discernible reason. He doesn't wake the neighbors so that people are yelling "SHUT UP!" at 4:00 in the morning.

He isn't that annoying yippy dog who lives in my building somewhere.

Apollo does sometimes make strange squeaky noises in the night, almost as though he hurt himself. Sometimes I hear flapping and/or falling. When I go to check on him (which I always do, because what if he really did hurt himself?), he is always cuddled under his sleepy toy, as if nothing happened. This is why I believe that Apollo has nightmares sometimes. And also that he either A) doesn't remember them for long or B) is too embarrassed to let on that he had a nightmare.

But mostly, the dark is for sleeping.

And never for waking up half the building.

I appreciate that a lot.

"The woman you gave me, she...."

I just finished updating my reading journal, and I thought I'd cross over and expand on part of one of those posts. So here we go.

I recently read a book called Infidel, by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. One of the most fascinating aspects of this book to me was her relation of the way women were often treated in the societies in which she grew.

One part of this broader issue was the issue of coverings for women. In Ali’s experience with Muslim writers, every lustful thought a man had was provoked by a woman, and was thus her sin, not his. Ali once asked why men don’t need to cover up, why it hadn’t been considered that a woman would likewise be driven to lustful thoughts at the sight of a man, and her listeners merely laughed at her.

I found this distressingly similar to the sort of talk I have heard in Christian circles. In one youth group I know of, there was an evening in which the group divided into girls and boys—the girls to talk about modesty and not provoking men, the boys to talk about pornography and not being provoked by women.

Granted, these are both subjects worth discussing. But they are by no means entirely gender-specific, and we do everyone a disservice by acting as though they are.

I have never, to my recollection, heard anyone say anything about male modesty—“Guys, if you think girls are attracted to your bare chests, have a little respect for them and yourselves and keep your shirts on!”—or about how women can be swayed into mental sins by the way men choose to talk about other women—Guy: “So-and-so is so hot"; Girl: "Unlike me/She's not that great/He's a jerk for only focusing on physical appearance/etc., etc., etc." (And men, before you tell me it's ridiculous that women would interpret you that incorrectly, tell me how it's not ridiculous that some men feel unduly enticed by bare shoulders. Isn't all sin inherently illogical, in the ultimate sense?) Likewise, I have never, to my recollection, heard women warned against ogling men, or of objectivizing them in the way they speak.

Are men more prone to lust than women are? Maybe, in general...but then, who decides that? When did lust become a men-only (or at least "men-mostly") sin, anyway?

Are women more prone to taking words out of context? Maybe, but in my experience men are at least as sensitive to how women talk to them as the other way around.

What if we stopped trying to classify sin, and instead shifted our focus to the object of this whole Christian life: Christ first and others second? What if we worked to keep our attitudes perpetually sacrificial towards each other, not because other people “make” us sin but because we desire to make other people strong? What if we focused on removing the log from our own eyes before going to our brothers—and sisters—in humility to address the specks in their eyes? What if we asked for help instead of bursting into self-righteous tantrums? What if we protected each other as fiercely as we protected ourselves?

I don't know about you, but that's the kind of world I want to live in...as well as the kind of world I often despair of. I know we'll never fully attain any of that here. I just want to see more people (myself included) practicing for the day when we will.

Light and Momentary Afflictions

My least favorite bird ownership responsibility is clipping Apollo's nails.

"Nail clipping?" you might be thinking. "Sounds easy enough."

It's hard because he hates it so much, and with good reason. Birds have blood vessels in their nails, and if you clip them properly, they usually bleed. Doesn't sound right, does it? But that's what happens when you clip them to the recommended angle.

Why clip them at all? Well, besides the lacerations on my fingers, sharp pointy nails mean a greater danger that Apollo will get snagged in the carpet, on a blanket, or on any number of snaggable surfaces, and he could hurt himself trying to pull free. Also, when his nails are sharp, he doesn't get to be with me as much...the nails hurt me.

Here's how the clipping procedure happened tonight.

1) I wrap Apollo in a towel, whispering soothingly that it will be okay (he knows what the towel means).

2) I clip the nails, packing a powder called Quick-Stop into his nails to stop the bleeding...quickly. I usually only get a few nails at a time before having to change my grip, as he struggles throughout most of this process.

3) I check to be sure the bleeding has stopped and then let him back into the safety of his cage, where he rushes to his cuddly rope toy for solace.

4) He shuns me, keeping his rope between us.

5) Within a few minutes, he begins peeking around the rope to see if I recognize the enormity of my deeds (or maybe if I just miss him).

6) I sneeze, and he is on the other side of the rope, one foot on the cage bars, looking at me. "Are you okay?" he seems to be saying. "I could use a little company, myself."

7) He sits on my finger, switching from one foot to another because they are still sore. At first his back is to me, but not for long. After all, I'm all he has.

And because nothing is thoroughly straightforward and linear to me, every time I trim Apollo's nails I think how much alike we are. I, too, wrestle in the grasp of Someone who owns me, and who is only causing me pain for our mutual benefit, and to allow me to come closer to Him. I, too, want to run when it gets painful, to turn to some other familiar thing. And I, too, inevitably realize that I want the comfort of God's presence even when I'm still hurting.

Who else do I have? (Ps. 73:25)

Small Voices

Tonight I went to a baby shower at my church for a mom with twin girls. As soon as I walked into the room, I was overwhelmed—so many people, so many little groups, and me too afraid to exert my presence.

My mom says everybody is afraid of breaking into larger groups, of introducing themselves to strangers, of risking rejection. I'm sure she's right.

And yet....

Tonight the room was full of wives, of mothers, and of many young women who likely aspired to those offices as though they are birthrights. Tonight during the prayer part of the shower several participants prayed "that we may respect our husbands and be faithful mothers." Tonight as one person prayed for the twins she prayed that God might be with them as they grow "into toddlers...pre-teens...teens...wives...mothers...."

I understand that those are the natural steps in many minds.

I understand that wives and mothers need all the prayers they can get.

I understand that people like my church grandma who say things like "What are we going to do about you, Suzanne" have had great marriages and just think I should have the same, because they love me.

I understand all those things, so it seems a bit selfish and rather stupid of me when I start to feel so lonely over them—to feel shut out of the circle because I am one and not two turned one. (I've found that in general, no place is as lonely as church. Shouldn't the opposite be true?)

We're told that sometimes God comes with a still, small voice, but it seems to me that Satan has a small voice, too. It whispers that I would be justified in moping for ages about how lost I feel in the hallways; or how hard it is for me to talk to new people; or how disheartening it is that I could not be in church at all and there wouldn't be anyone saving a seat for me and wondering where I was. It whispers that the women at the shower tonight don't respect me as a whole person because I'm not a married person. It whispers that while everyone has problems interacting with others, mine are only worse because I am a second-class (meaning "unmarried") citizen. It whispers all sort of things I am ready to believe and to act on unless I am ready to defend myself with the weapons I have been given.

"The glory which You have given Me I have given to them, that they may be one, just as We are one; I in them and You in Me, that they may be perfected in unity, so that the world may know that You sent Me, and loved them, even as You have loved Me." -- John 17:22-23

Jesus gave us the glory the God gave to Him, that we may be perfected in unity. That we may be one. Beyond husband and wife. Beyond daughter and mother. Beyond all ties of friends and family, country and culture. One in Christ, for Christ.

I don't get to sit in a corner and feel sorry for myself. I have to pursue unity. I have to pursue the grand cosmic "us" of God's people, even though it's against my natural inclination to do so. I have to heed Paul's advice: "Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil" (Eph. 6:11).

I have to admit—and thank God this is true!—that I'm not the only one fighting down here.

Tonight the voice whispered to me that it would be okay/understandable/perfectly right for me to jump up after prayer and leave the room without saying goodbye to the guest of honor. I didn't listen. And when I did make my way to her, the first thing she said was, "When are you coming over?"

The Holy Spirit's small voice is louder than Satan's any day.

Baby Factory

Apparently I'm going to have to get pregnant in order to be in the conversation loop around my office.

Just kidding...mostly. The part that's serious is that everyone else in the office is big into baby talk right now. Three people have had babies in the past year, and one is now pregnant. Maybe Harvest fertility is catching, and can be dragged into other environments? If this is true, I'm sure we could find a way to turn it into the next fundraiser for our building project.

The big boss came through the office the other day to congratulate the co-worker who is pregnant now. And then he said to me, "It's working its way around the office, Suzanne. You're next." One of those semi-funny and semi-awkward comments.

I replied, "There are a few other things that need to work their way around first."

One of these things (and it's a little way down on the list) would be the willingness to be pregnant. I know a couple who can't have children biologically, and they are looking into embryo adoption. This is because, the woman says, she has always wanted to be pregnant.

What? Always? Wanted?

If I ever wanted this, it has been a long time since then. I remember thinking kids would be nice, but the nine month production process hasn't been a rosy fantasy for me, and I have no particular desire to pass my genetics on any further. I mean, sure, the world could handle another insanely cute kid, but there are other really cute kids around.

If I had the choice between adopting an embryo or adopting an infant (or child), I would choose the pre-fabricated version, hands down. "No assembly? Great."

"Now where's the user's manual?"

Healthy Holidays

Today I am fantasizing about having one of these.

I especially want the Sit-to-Walkstation. I would pay good money to have this in my office space. Never feeling too sedentary at work again...never feeling (as) guilty for skipping the gym.... Mmmmm.... Too bad I live on the third floor and it would be really awkward, or I would totally look into this for my apartment.

In related news, I am in a little competition (accountability group?) with some women I know from work. Our goal: maintain or lose weight this holiday season. I'm hoping for "lose," as in "lose the five pounds I picked up last holiday season and haven't shaken off." Stupid five pounds.

Because we're all trying not to gain weight, I sent an email to employees in the field asking them not to send us candy for Christmas. That was awkward. It sounds far too bold to say "buy me this instead of this." Even if you are pretty sure a gift is coming, it sounds presumptive. But on the other hand, I'd appreciate someone telling me (gently) that they don't really use/like what I tend to get them.

And because of that email, I will have llama mittens and a llama scarf for Christmas. So. Cool.

All that's really left now is the Walkstation....

Speaking While Tired

I should not speak when I am overly tired. I find myself far more likely to express opinions that I do not actually hold, or at least express them in a way that does not accurately reflect them. Often, when I am speaking while tired, there is another voice in my head asking, "What are you saying? Did you check with the rest of us voices to make sure we agreed on the position you are currently espousing?"

(It is the inability of the tired mind to work in concert with itself that sets it apart from the alert mind. Also, the inability to use words like "espousing.")

For example, today in describing why I did not particularly care if I attended a certain meeting I said that I dislike conflict, which led to me saying I dislike arguments, which led to me saying I only liked arguments I won. Now, I am sure there are amounts of truth in all of those statements...uncomfortably so in the last case. But they don't comprise the whole truth.

Do you often get at the whole truth in a crowded church hallway? Probably not. Still, propogating half-truths doesn't seem like the right solution. Especially because there are people who simply accept the words out of your mouth as the totality of your opinion on a matter (which is most of my real problem with improperly conducted arguments, actually).

As I grow, I want to speak less and say more. Especially when I am tired.

Last night I was on Heroes.

Sort of.

I had recently discovered I had electricity powers, sort of like Kristen Bell’s character has. I could zap things, and also I could fly (because of some electricity current thing). I was still trying to figure out how this power worked, and it kept running out, leaving me with mere trickly blue light with about as much force as static electricity. I realized this power needed recharging, and somehow I knew that it would be recharged by other electric bursts (guess I was a bit like Megavolt, from Darkwing Duck?).

So finally I came to a decision that action must be taken. I “climbed” a pine tree during a lightning storm (I didn’t have to do much actual climbing because my flight powers were letting me sort of hover my way up—bit by bit, because my powers weren’t highly charged at this point), and waited for a lightning strike that I knew would fully charge my powers forever.

“Will this hurt?” I thought apprehensively. “Nah…lightning can’t really hurt me, I have lightning powers.”

Later, I was hanging out with an unknown girl and Claire-Peter (she was Claire, but didn’t really look like Claire, and she had Peter’s powers on top of hers) in Claire-Peter’s room, and I was telling her something about how my powers were a little hard to explain, and she pointed to the ceiling, where I saw a large number of metal darts.

“Ohhhh,” I said, enlightened, because I also had practiced manipulating metal darts with my powers (electricity provides extensive powers, apparently).

Then, out of nowhere, Claire-Peter pulled two darts from the ceiling with her power and shot them across the room at me and this other girl.

“Ow!” we said. “We don’t have regenerative powers like you, remember?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I forgot.”

And that’s about where I woke up.

Too late...but maybe next year....

Some friends of mine and I (all big fans of The Office) have jokingly discussed the possibility of taking an Office roadtrip, where each of us would pick a character and then stay in character as long as possible for the whole trip. If only this had been serious, we could have attended...THE OFFICE CONVENTION.

Yes. Seriously.

I have wanted to attend a fan convention for so long. Star Trek...ComicCon...that sort of thing. I think a convention for The Office would work, too.

I am such a nerd. I love that about me. I love that I know more about comic book lore than most of the teenage boys in my church. (Admittedly, the nerd ratio in my church is almost disturbingly low.) I love quoting random TV/movie bits with friends. And how fun would it be to go to a nerd convention??? Aside from the being surrounded by strangers, I mean?

Years ago, Stephenie said something to me that I have mostly not forgotten (I say "mostly" because I'm sure it has been slightly paraphrased over time). It remains one of my favorites Nerd Suzanne quotes: "How are you not dating? I'd think you could walk into a Star Trek convention and walk out with a guy hanging from every limb."

Yes, I'm pretty sure taking a road trip to Scranton with a car (or van) full of Office wannabes would be hilarious. If I ever actually go, I'll let you know how it turns out.

Absolutely, I will.

My Life as a Musical

Sometimes I wish I were the only person in the world...or at least that I could suspend time or become invisible so as to produce the same effect without damaging long-term loneliness. I most frequently wish this when I am outside. Unlike inside, outside is an uncontrolled environment. I could run across any number of people I had not planned to run across. These people could be hostile. These people could just be male, which is almost the same thing.

What's the problem? The problem is that I have a jukebox in my head. (Also in my iPod, which only magnifies the head jukebox problem.) And when a song comes over the jukebox, I often want to sing along with it, and usually do a little dancing to it, too.

I have embraced this eccentricity far more recently due to my pastor and his kids, who all vocalize their internal jukebox soundtracks. I have much less of a problem breaking into snatches of song when in the company of friends. I have been taught, however, possibly just by being female, that it's not a great idea to draw attention to myself outside the company of friends. If I were to go skipping and dancing along down the trails near my place, who knows what could happen. I don't care nearly as much as I used to about people laughing at me. I am still concerned that random strangers could fall madly in love with my carefree abandon, and I would be breaking who knows how many hearts. And that is the most pleasant option. (And if you think that option is not that bad, you don't know me very well.)

Nichole (a friend from college) had a sort of fantasy in which she and a large group of her friends would go to a mall and divide up into various stores. Then Nichole would start walking through the mall singing, and her friends would jump out of the stores at various points and join in, and everyone who wasn't in on it would wonder what they had wandered into.

My musical fantasies aren't that complicated. I just want to do a little twirling and fake choreography from time to time when I'm out walking.

Until I get braver, I guess I'll settle for dancing until I round corners...and making 360 degree turns slowly as though I had to look at something behind me...and extending my arms as though it were part of my exercise regimen.

My life as a stealth musical.

Ah, personality tests...how I love you....

Kerri posted a link to a Meyers-Briggs-type personality test. I, of course, love these things. I answered quickly so as not to get too stuck in "sometimes yes, sometimes no" overanalyzing. So here we go. This is my personality tonight (I find these things usually change...except the ones where I'm Hermione).





Your personality type:
Independent, original, analytical, and determined. Have an exceptional ability to turn theories into solid plans of action. Highly value knowledge, competence, and structure. Driven to derive meaning from their visions. Long-range thinkers. Have very high standards for their performance, and the performance of others. Natural leaders, but will follow if they trust existing leaders.



Careers that could fit you include:
Scientists, engineers, professors, teachers, medical doctors, dentists, corporate strategists, organization founders, business administrators, managers, military, lawyers, judges, computer programmers, system analysts, computer specialists, psychologists, photographers, research department managers, researchers, university instructors, chess players.






The above category used to be "Careers that could fit you includes," but of course I had to fix it. Hm. None of those careers sound interesting. So few careers do....



I came up IITJ: Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, Judging. [Per Lisa, that should actually be INTJ. "N" for iNtuitive.] I leaned pretty strongly towards each of these, too, which is unlike my usual college results where I was fairly middle-of-the-road. Maybe this is an example of what Pastor Dale meant when he said that living alone tends to make you more and more like yourself?

And speaking of personality, just last night Lisa and I were talking about the disconnect between how we see ourselves and how others see us. Isn't it strange that perceptions can vary so widely? I maintain that it IS. Strange. It is strange.

ACK-tually....

Now it sounds like plans have changed and I will again be...I almost wrote "sleeping alone this Saturday." Hm. And by "again".... What I mean is that it sounds like my company will not be coming. Fortunately I did not just buy two gallons of milk, two loaves of bread, two cartons of ice cream, four boxes of cereal, four pizzas, and a jar of peanut butter specifically for the occasion. Oh, wait.... Blast.

Alas, I may not be the destination for a road trip, after all. But it was a nice thought while it lasted.

If it absolutely falls through, I will be hitting some of you locals up to come over for dinner on Friday night. Possibly also karaoke somewhere afterwards. Pencil me in?

Life is funny

There are a number of people who used to be members of my current church who have attained near legendary status by the simple expedient of moving away. In their cases, absence has indeed made hearts grow fonder. If any of these legends return, they will be swarmed with people practically falling over themselves to talk to them.

In a related subject, lots of people at my church have been there for their formative years. They grow up in the church. They marry in the church (or marry new blood into the church), and they stay in the church. This means that they have ages of in-jokes and "do you remember the time when" stories that I do not understand.

As you can tell, I have never at all felt any unreasonable sensations of being marginalized and second-rate because of any of this. Seriously, though...other than family members, I don't have any friends anywhere that I've known since I was a little kid. But this year, I realized something. I have known other people since they were kids. They are the kids of my parents' church, the church where I grew up. Kids I babysat for, kids I taught in VBS, kids who were just part of the church life. And I realized one Sunday at my parents' church, as I was hanging out in a circle talking to these kids, that this is how the "legends" of my current church must feel: not like legends, just like normal people who are happy to see others with whom they shared so much history.

This Saturday, I am hosting a sleepover for 5 to 7 teenage girls from my old church. Some of them I have known for ages, some I have known of for ages, and some I have known for a fairly short time. But when I suggested a few weeks ago that it might be fun if they came to visit me, they agreed. With enthusiasm. And I am hosting with similar enthusiasm.

It's an encouraging, endearing, and laughably enjoyable thing to be the destination of a road trip. I'm excited.

Also, getting 8 women ready for church in the morning in a one bathroom apartment should be interesting.

Abba! Father!

The weight of the world and its people
proving their rights and righteousness
their position and power
striving
contending
crushing
falling
rising to cycle through again
Oh, father, lead me past my experience
bring me in to your life
break my heart as yours breaks
stretch me for the world
you stretched yourself for
save and heal
save and heal
Oh, father, how long?

Schedule Conflicts

No, this isn't about over-booking, although I had a major blow-up in my life over that last weekend. I have managed NOT to double-book since...well...last weekend. (You have to start somewhere.)

Here's what is bothering me about schedule conflicts now: too many people with too much busyness in their lives. This includes me. I don't like having to whip out a planner and book somebody for four weeks down the road. I don't like "booking somebody" at all, if it comes to that. (This may come as a shock to almost everybody who knows me.)

I'd rather not work around everybody's employment schedules, and other friends, and previous commitments. I'd rather just be there, without thinking about it so much. I'd rather life didn't work as hard as it does to keep us all apart.

Tonight I think that part of the joy of heaven will be not having to "find time" for anything, or anyone. There will be an infinite amount of time to enjoy God and to enjoy each other, creations of God that we are. And the whole family will be there, and nobody will ever be too busy ever again, and we will always have time for each other, without having to fight for it as we must now. It will be a restful, exciting, glorious place.

Shall we plan on meeting there in a few years?

Is it something in the water in Brooklyn?

Yesterday I went to my cousin's son's first birthday party. The following is a snippet of the conversation that took place almost immediately after I sat down at a table next to my great-aunt Irene.

Aunt Irene: How are you?

Me: Doing good.

Aunt Irene: Are you married yet?

Me: ["oh, Aunt Irene" laugh] No.

Aunt Irene: Are you seeing anybody?

Me: No.

Aunt Irene: Are there any fellas at your church you might be...?

Me: What is it with you Brooklyners?

Aunt Irene: You're wasting time....

Seriously. Between my church grandma Rosemary and my Aunt Irene.... Actually, I don't even know how to finish that sentence. Those women make me laugh and roll my eyes at the same time.

Surprised by Grace...if grace is out there....

No matter how many times I am shown grace, I have difficulty really believing in it. I do really stupid things, and intentionally mean things, and just plain careless things. I make promises too swiftly, then break them. I condemn people for being rude to me on the phone. I speak first and think later. I obsess over my own problems. (Count the "I's" in this paragraph alone.)

Maybe (maybe) God won't cut me off, but that's because he's God. Your parents aren't allowed to disown you, and God is the greater father, so...he CAN'T cut you off, right? But friends, and co-workers, and strangers? Those people can turn on you in a second, and be completely justified in doing so.

"If I were You-Know-Who," muses Luna Lovegood of the arch-villain in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, "I'd want you to feel cut off from everyone else. 'Cause if it's just you alone, you're not as much of a threat."

Which just reminds me that Satan doesn't believe in an overcoming grace, either.

It's hatefully messy here, horribly easy to hurt and to be hurt. But can we really love without diving into the mess? Can we really love when we focus our attention so intently on our failures that they seem insurmountable? Can we really love without believing in grace?

The list of reasons I have to despise myself is long, but God is at work, granting patience, forbearance, perspective, and wisdom. God shows me a grace that is greater than all my sins...and I have often seen that grace manifested through people I have wronged, intentionally and unintentionally. Because God is not only at work in me.

I believe in grace. Lord, help my unbelief.

What is this feeling?

I don't think I can be the only one to experience this.... Today I kept feeling that I wanted to be writing something, but that I didn't know what to write. I wrote 800-900 words (total) on a few separate things, just to be writing, but I wasn't really as into them as I've been sometimes. Even this post is feeling a little forced.

Revolutionary thought: writing is craft, and as such writing can be done even if it doesn't feel right.

Still, I'm feeling a strong need/desire for something that's hovering on the edge of my consciousness, and it's driving me crazy that I can't put it into words and make sense of it. Is this thing fiction? Is it non-fiction? Is it just an item I've left off one of my lists of things to do?

I get this feeling fairly often, actually. Fallout from something that wants doing but remains undone. Maybe it isn't even writer's blues at all. Maybe I just need to clean my bathtub.

Ah, well. While I'm trying to figure all that out, I guess can cross "new blog post" off my mental to-do list....

A future full of promise, a heart full of love; life full of God's blessings from heaven above.

See? Writing a wedding card isn't (as we say at my office) rocket surgery. There would be occupational hazards, I guess—spontaneous stomach sickness, eyestrain from too much rolling, brain turning to goo and draining out of your ears.

Wedding cards are the worst cards to shop for. Most feature sappy and/or sanctimonious sentiments, often phrased in truly atrocious "poetry" that pretends to rhyme but doesn't quite make it (see self-created example above, then take it down several levels).

Wedding cards are full of the rampant cultural fantasy that marriage is your ticket to a magical fairyland where bad things do not happen. From what I've heard, real marriages are a lot more like real life: you love people, but they get on your nerves sometimes; you love people, but you let them down sometimes. It can be fun and enriching, but it can also be confusing and frustrating.

I guess there may not be much of a market for wedding cards that say, "Congratulations as you embark on your journey together. Prepare for sharp turns, bad weather, and ambushes." So then why can't some of the cards be funny? Marriage is a serious choice, yes, but I don't think it has to be taken Quite So Seriously. Comedy, after all, rises most frequently from the unexpected, and there is something inherently ludicrous—and I mean that word in its joyful sense—in the intersection of male and female. (Praise be to the God who specializes in the joining of disparate elements!)

I bought two wedding cards today. They will probably end up either in a landfill or in the back corner of a closet.

I think I'm okay with that.

You might be overdoing it if...

...your story includes a sentence like "Kate sighed and closed her hazel orbs."

Just call them "eyes." As soon as you use the word "orbs" to refer to eyes you've crossed over into melodrama, or something like it. Maybe just bad writing.

Also, don't bother to call out eye color at every turn. In real life, people don't usually pay that much attention to eye color. At least this sentence didn't talk about some character's "chocolate brown eyes," which is a huge warning sign that you have stumbled across a really sappy story. Personally, I would be weirded out if somebody looked at my eyes and thought about food. Who really ever wants to hear, "I'm so attracted to you...and also, your eyes remind me of chocolate...which kind of makes me hungry, now that I think of it"? When people look into my eyes, I would much rather they think about eyes.

This has been a public service announcement to any and all aspiring authors. Thank you.

Foxhole Pagan

I say I believe in predestination and election, and I do. But when things get a little shaky, I start rationalizing. Maybe I messed up somewhere along the line, and that's why [fill in the blank]. Maybe I should be there instead of here, do this instead of that. Maybe my actions are of such cosmic importance that they can derail God's grander plans.

It looks ridiculous, doesn't it, printed out like that?

Tomorrow I will be going on my first outing with my church's newly incarnated Adopt-A-Block ministry. We'll be going door-to-door in the same 12 apartments every other week for the next 6 months, getting to know people, seeing how we can help them, living the Gospel before speaking it.

That's the plan, anyway. The thing is, the Gospel in my life is pretty messy. It's one thing to swoop in with carefully crafted words, making Jesus sound like the beautiful solution to all problems. But what about the fact that after 28 years of walking, I still trip over a short fuse and a low tolerance for the faults of others? What about the fear that speaking truth will lead to the unpleasantness of being disliked? What about the terror that somehow I will singlehandedly turn people away from this God I profess? If I really believed this stuff, really loved this Person, wouldn't my life and witness be...what? Neat? Simple? Easy?

I was thinking this morning of my motives for sharing God with others, and of how incredibly mixed they are, and these words from Paul came to mind: "What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed; and in this I rejoice." (Philippians 1:18)

And I was thinking just now of my incredible smallness, and the words of a more recent saint, Sara Groves, came to mind: "What do I know?" Her song counters the question "what" with "Who"--"from what I know of Him...."

I am scared of my own weakness. I will just have to rest in His strength. Which is not a triumphant declaration of faith so much as my only possible option.

After all, when it comes down to it, being as important as I tend to think I am is pretty horrifying.

Top Three Star Trek Inventions I Wish Really Existed (in no particular order)

Transporters

Avoid construction; avoid long, boring solo drives…hey, avoid driving altogether. Far-flung family and friends become quickly and easily accessible.


Medical Tricorders

Instant, accurate diagnosis of most common ailments and injuries (such as, in a completely random example, ankle pain). Since medical tricorders can be difficult to read sometimes, I would settle for an LMH (Long-term Medical Hologram).


Food Replicators

No time-consuming cooking! Virtually no clean up! And easy access to well-rounded, healthy meals based on the recommendations of your medical tricorder (or LMH).

Lost

I need to organize better. At last count, I've lost several bills (found just past the due date), at least $20, a Metro ticket, three rings, one necklace, a CD, and an action figure. All within the last 25 years.

I have never taken the notion of losing things well. I was the kid having nightmares about misplacing library books. I had nightmares along the same vein about raging fires heading towards my house while I scrambled to save all of my dearest possessions (and there were a lot). I used to take all of my favorite toys (and there were a lot) into the basement during tornado warnings.

Now there are times when I imagine how much less clutter there would be if a fire did hit my place (sometime when Apollo and I were both gone, of course). How much less stuff I could get by with, really. And yet still, the memory of each and every lost possession I listed in the first paragraphs rankles, standing for a lapse of judgment and vigilance. Drop your guard for a second and something you take for granted is gone.

I know this is one more manifestation of my tendency to carry the world on my shoulders. "You've lost something, and it's all your fault; you could have paid more attention, you utterly horrible person; why should anybody trust you with anything if you can't take care of it?" And I know I have way too much stuff, and that if I kept better organized with the things I have they would be less likely to become the things I had. But my heart aches over the lost things, anyway.

The parable of the missing coin shows quite a knowledge of people.

Greatest Hits

Kerri has already explained this, but for those of you who don't read both our blogs, I'm going to explain it again.


At some point during our travels, Angie, Kerri, and I (Lost fans all) came up with the idea of doing a European tour "greatest hits" list. I realized soon after voicing how cool I thought this idea was that I am not the sort of person who finds it easy to narrow anything down that far. (The other girls took 400-600 pictures. I took over 1200. I have been through them three times to narrow them down to a highlights reel and still have 870.)


So I am copping out by doing my five top fives.


Five Favorite Sights with Fictional Associations

5. Lacock Abbey, where many scenes of Hogwarts were filmed.

4. The back of the house from The Sound of Music, a building interesting enough in its own right for Kerri and I to start snapping pictures of it before the guide told us it was part of the tour.

3. Balliol College, alma mater of the beloved Lord Peter Wimsey. It was closed to visitors but open to those with a special request, and I fortunately know a real live person who is an alumnus, so I got to go in and look around and take pictures for both of us. (Thanks, Ken!)

2. The bust of Mr. Darcy at Chatsworth, the house used as Pemberly in the Keira Knightley version of Pride and Prejudice.

1. The Sherlock Holmes museum, fully furnished in classic Victorian style and dripping with Holmes ambience, down to the in-character actor (or WAS he an actor?) who told the curious Angie he had worked there for over a hundred years. Also features some rather eerie waxworks (sorry, "eerie waxworks" is redundant).




Five Nicest People (or groups of people)


5. The woman at the hotel in Salzburg who was so helpful she called the tour company for us before we asked.
4. The people on the bus to Oxford who volunteered all sorts of information. (Elderly woman: "This is the famous Maudlin Bridge." Elderly man next to her: "Spelled 'Magdalen.'"; Woman sitting behind us who overheard us what stop we should pick: "Just get off the bus when I do. [a moment later] Now!")
3. The businessmen from India who took turns sitting with us on an overcrowded train from Vienna to Salzburg. One of them almost mistook us for English because our vowels weren't as drawn out as he expected from Americans.
2. The Spanish guy at the internet café who asked Kerri for help on his résumé. She was referring him to me just as I was springing forward, glad to be doing something besides waiting for a computer. I gave him helpful advice such as "You don't want to have a smiley face in your purpose statement," and then as he left I got a big grin and two thumbs up in exchange for a simple "Bueno suerte."
1. Ahmed and his older brother, the pair in front of us in line for the Eiffel Tower. They made standing in line for 45 minutes fun, and we were such pals by the time we got up to the ticket counter that they just went to the second level, as we were doing, instead of all the way up to the third, as they had been planning. Later we ran into them on the street, and so had the fun of meeting someone we knew in Paris.


Five Oddest or Most Unhelpful People (or groups)

5. The French (all stereotypes need perpetuating, right?).
4. The people of Austria were odd in that we were seemingly invisible to them. They would walk right into us, or not move for us. One time Angie dropped a suitcase on somebody's foot (accidentally). I still don't think the person reacted.
3. The UK immigration blokes were odd, too. One of them looked at me as though I might be a terrorist after I split off from my group to get into a shorter queue (that's English for "line") and the other seemed suspicious that an engineer (Kerri) and a governess (Angie) could be friends.
2. A man from the hotel in Paris sold us to another hotel after running us through the streets with no help beyond taking what was obviously the smallest and lightest piece of luggage from the person best equipped to deal with both her luggage AND cobblestone streets.
1. Two out of four men we talked to at our last hotel were clueless, incompetent, and seemingly not particularly concerned with our specific needs. (Yes, we have an extra person; no, we don't want to pay for a whole other room. Yes, we do want sheets for the couch; no, we don't care if that's good for your job, we just want to sleep.)


Five Unexpected Things

5. Laughing hysterically with Angie over some slight picking on Kerri.
4. Being in Leicester Square during the world premiere of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
3. Swaying all day (and into the next night) after our sleeper train ride from Salzburg to Paris.
2. Tasting an anchovy.
1. Being thrown totally off schedule due to a major traffic jam and finding myself thinking calmly, "We did our best, and it didn't work, and God has something else planned for us, so it's all okay."


Five Things That Were Planned That I Had Never Done Before

5. Asked somebody next to me on a plane to switch seats with a friend of mine.
4. Used an ATM.
3. Checked into and out of hotels.
2. Spent the night on a sleeper train.
1. Drove on the left side of the road, on the right side of the car (the latter was more confusing).

Ten Best Things About Being Back Home

(in no particular order)

• My parents meeting me at the airport (a total surprise to me)
• Welcome home voicemail
• My own shower
• My own bed
• A cranky-yet-pleased Apollo
• No more exchange rate math
• No more lugging everything I own on the whole continent around with me
• Cell phone service
• Easy and convenient access to drinking water
• Driver's wheel on the left side

Trip details forthcoming....

Are you kidding me?

I don't know which is the most surreal....

• My apartment is the cleanest it has been in weeks. Possibly months.
• I am totally packed and almost completely ready (physically) for my mega-trip.
• The mere fact that this trip is going to happen.

I feel very small and young. Definitely not the sort of person to be heading off on her own for one leg of a trip before meeting up with another person only slightly older than myself for the second leg, and ANOTHER person only slightly older than both of the first two of us for the majority of the trip.

I am 28. We have put a lot of planning into this. We will have fun.

I'm feeling bad about leaving my bird for 12 days, but he will be fine.

I already miss my parents and my brother (Jeremiah will be in Mexico next week; we're world travelers), but it isn't like they live in the same town as I do. It is sort of like we talk every day, though, so that will be different. No cell phone and no internet for 12 days. It's like a fast.

My next post will have pictures from Europe. How crazy is that?

Mainly on the plains?

In Spain, maybe. I was checking the weather report for while we're in Europe and almost EVERY DAY shows a good chance of some form of precipitation.

This made me laugh. I am glad I bought a travel umbrella and a poncho.

A Song for Me and My Dad

I heard part of a much-loved Paul Simon song called "Father and Daughter" on my way home tonight. It's a song about a father who is always there for his daughter, and who looks out for her, and who believes in her. So even though it was me and not my dad who first heard this song, I still kind of think of it as our song, because it reminds me of him. He always tells me I can handle things on my own, but is always ready to offer advice and assistance when I ask him for it, and I have never doubted that the chorus of this song is true of my dad, and that the vice versa of that line is true, too.

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow

Gonna paint a sign

So you'll always know

As long as one and one is two

There could never be a father

Who loved his daughter more than I love you

Happy Father's Day, Dad! Thanks for loving me and showing it in a bazillion different ways. I love you, too.

Next week in Vienna

Bizarre, yet true: if all goes as we've planned, next week Kerri and Angie and I will be in Vienna, probably taking pictures of feet. ;) Several months of frantic planning (okay, frantic mostly on my part), of research, of collecting possessions and possible luggage choices into little piles, and it's practically here.

This will be the first major trip I've taken without an adult. Visiting Rachel in Manhattan didn't count. Going to Austin for Sabrina's wedding didn't count. Visiting Kerri in Denver didn't count. Those were Friendly Visits. This is a Major Vacation, with hotels and trains and foreign currency and languages other than English. Not that I'm anxious.

Ha ha! No, seriously, I am indeed worried about this trip. I'm worried about the planes. I'm worried about the trains. I'm worried about the automobiles. I'm worried about John Candy...oh, wait...sorry, got on the wrong track. I'm worried about missing important deadlines. I'm worried I've set too many deadlines and that I won't enjoy the trip. I'm worried I'll show up at church in jeans and get dirty looks.

This morning the Sunday School teacher was talking about the relation of fear and faith. He talked about holy reverence, and then he said something like, "But it's also okay to hold on to God because you're so scared about doing anything else." Which is what, in the practical realm, I am doing for this trip. And I know that He has surprises there for me, and even if they're scary at the time, they will end up being really great things.

So, enough with what I'm scared about. I'm not just scared, I'm excited, too. (Maybe all great endeavors come with both.) I'm excited about spending a week with Kerri, a kindred spirit who enjoys most of the same things I do and can also calm me down when I'm getting too worked up about something. I'm excited about seeing places in England I've never seen before. I'm excited about being able to say that I drove successfully on the wrong...I mean, left side of the road. I'm excited about taking trains, especially the sleeper car between Salzburg and Vienna. I'm excited that my packing is pretty much done. I'm excited about my beautiful little trip journal that Lisa bought for me. I'm excited that I'm up on the church prayer list for this Friday, the day before I leave, and that church snacks for adults are ending this June so I won't have to arrange someone to bring cookies in for me when I'm gone. I'm excited about all the other "small" providences that I will witness over the course of the next several weeks.

Next Sunday, I'll be in Vienna. Wow.

My Life's Soundtrack, V.3

Jeremiah posted this on his page, and so now I'm posting it. A different version on almost every page blog I have. Because it was That Fun the first time.

RULES:
1. Open your music library
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every category, type the song that's playing
5. When you go the next category, press the next button (duh)

opening theme:
It’s Nice To Be With You – The Monkees

waking up:
Who Will Buy – from Oliver!

first day at school:
There’s a New Sound - Scooter (the Muppet)

shopping:
Spooky – The Classics IV

hanging with friends:
Sundays in September – Ruth’s Hat

first kiss:
Seven Wonders – Nickel Creek (not as good a song for this category as the title may imply)

birthday:
I Will Always Love You – Whitney Houston (how could you ever hate birthdays?)

party scene:
Sue Me – from Guys and Dolls

falling in love:
Trashin’ the Camp – Phil Collins & N’Sync

fight song:
The Circle of Life – from The Lion King, London cast version

breaking up:
By His Wounds – Wes King

prom:
Lady of Spain – The Amazing Marvin Suggs and His Muppaphone Players

college:
Getting Into You – Reliant K

life:
Holding Out for a Hero – Frou Frou

mental breakdown:
How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) – James Taylor

driving:
I’ve Got the World on a String – James Darren

flashback:
Achy Breaky Heart – The Chipmunks (quite a flashback band, truly)

getting back together:
He Lives In You - from The Lion King, London cast version

wedding:
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun – The Chippettes

honeymoon:
Never Say Die – Dixie Chicks

birth of child:
Delhi.com – from Monsoon Wedding

final battle:
The Longest Time – Billy Joel

death scene:
Suzy Q – Creedence Clearwater Revival

funeral song:
Into This Town – Rachel Zylstra

end credits:
Be Prepared - from The Lion King, London cast version

Why is it...

...that you can be thoroughly absorbed in feeding every wretched sensation and indulging every evil impulse you have, knowing full well that you'll regret it the next day if not sooner, and yet you just keep going? And go ahead and change all those pronouns to "I," because of course that's where I'm really going with this.

Is getting to feel so bloody sorry for myself ever worth the morning after? No. Do I resent that? Yes.

*sigh*

(I believe eternal life is a free gift from God, but I don't want to get to heaven and have anybody surprised to see me there. "You were a Christian all this time? For real? It was so hard to tell....")

Over the past year or so it seems I've lost an awful lot of certainty. This is good in that a lot of arrogance was simmering (and sometimes boiling) in that certainty. But it's kind of scary, too. My opinions seem, mostly, either unimportant outside of myself or Viciously Important. My motivations barely ever seem as pure as I used to think they were. I act with at least three or four different levels of intention, and what's that about?

I've been thinking that this is a new phase that will last forever, but really that is probably a ridiculous idea. Maybe what this is instead is a time of getting used to seeing in a new way, being freed from many a fancy and many a foolish notion.

Or as Burns was getting at, before you can de-louse, you have to know the lice are there.

Self-sufficiency

Saturday I got an email about weird activity on a credit card. Since I did in fact have weird activity on that card, and since I have been increasingly frustrated with a number of things, and since I wasn't thinking, I clicked the link and GAVE OUT MY PERSONAL INFORMATION. Contact info, Social Security number...great. I'm an idiot. How many times have I warned people about telltale signs, and I fell for this like a total internet newbie. At least I wised up before they got my credit card number, too.

I found a list of recommended actions to take after you give out personal information, and it's long. So it can join my many other long lists of Things That Need Doing.

I am so sick of taking care of myself. I want a break. I want to go back to when my parents handled everything. I feel like the only person looking out for me is me, and I know that isn't true, which hasn't yet been making it feel better. And then there's the superstitious part of me that thinks that God is going to have my identity stolen to prove a point because I have been so unforgivably self-sufficient. And then there's the part of me that is still really, really fighting to take care of myself, because I don't trust anybody else to do it properly.

Clearly I can't do it properly either. Great.

Finger Length Predicts SAT Performance

According to an article I found on Yahoo! News, having a ring finger that is longer than your index finger (or at least long compared to your index finger) indicated a higher exposure to testosterone in the womb. It is also supposed to indicate that you have good mathematical and spatial skills.

Naturally, since reading this article I've been staring at my hands for an inordinate amount of time. My ring and index fingers are just about level with each other. BUT a careful measurement with my tape measure (something I just thought of now) shows that my ring fingers are 1/16" longer than my index fingers.

Observation 1: Why, then, do I stare at stare at restaurant receipts for several minutes before finally coming up with the right amount for a tip?

Observation 2: On the other hand, this may explain a lot....

Observation 3: “Uh! I have more testosterone than estrogen!” -- Rachel Gesch, fall 1999

New every morning

Tonight it struck me how beautiful it is that "great is thy faithfulness" comes right in the middle of a book called Lamentations.

Snags and Reminders

I was very proud of myself this week. There I was, booking car, plane, train, and hotel reservations, making definite progress on this Europe trip. Then Saturday came and I found out I had gone over my credit limit. In my head, my credit card had a large enough limit to handle the costs of my trip. And it does. However, I have been booking trains and hotels for several people. That makes a difference.

First response: horror, even worse than the horror of being late returning a library book. Second response: panic--my entire trip was going to fall through, and the reservations I'd placed were all worthless, and we'd have to book new hotels at higher prices, and everybody was going to be so mad at me. Third response: Suzanne, you're supposed to have it more together than this!

Tonight at church the guest pastor preached on our weaknesses, and how God makes use of them to broadcast His strengths to us and to the watching world. I was sitting there, half paying attention and half trying to solve all the Europe problems in my head, and suddenly I thought: "Control freak."

Blast.

That one again.

Nowhere in all of yesterday's reactions to the news of the credit problem did I stop to pray about it. I mean, really. Pray about hotel reservations? Come on. God has bigger problems. This is one of those things I can handle this on my own. What does He even care?

The part of me that acknowledges that I'm not quite as independent as I act most times knows that He does care, even about relatively minor things. And this is relatively minor. This is not a scenario in which someone died (or even could have died) because I didn't do math properly.

So there's a wrench in my plans, and tomorrow I'm going to be working on getting it out. And on remembering that from an ultimate perspective, they're not really my plans, anyway.

Because I was curious about any other quiz trends....

And apparently there are none in Lost....

Your Score: Jack

You scored 58% kindness, 45% courage, 28% seedy past, and 48% secretiveness!

"We're not savages, Kate. Not yet."

You are Jack. You are compassionate, heroic, and a bit of a martyr. You are brave and a natural leader. However, you shouldn't keep so much bottled up inside. You are so busy taking care of others that you have no time or energy to take care of yourself. Take a load off once in a while and play some golf with Hurley. You need to relax pretty soon or else you'll be no good for anyone anymore - including yourself!

Your polar opposite is: Shannon. You are similar to: Boone and Sayid.

The Which Lost Character Are You Test


Your results:
You are Mr. Eko

Mr. Eko 75% Sayid Jarrah 65% Boone Carlyle 65% Claire Littleton 60% Michael Dawson 56% Kate Austen 55% Charlie Pace 52% Shannon Rutherford 48% Jin-Soo Kwon 45% James "Sawyer" Ford 43% Sun Kwon 40% Walt Lloyd 40% Dr. Jack Shephard 36% Hugo "Hurley" Reyes 36% Ana-Lucia Cortez 36% John Locke 30%

You are neither a leader nor a follower. You are a Bible reader and are motivated by God's will. Many people have respect for you.

Click here to take the Lost Personality Quiz

You scored as Sawyer. You are Sawyer. Your raw sarcasm amuses everyone. You are rebellious and may even be onsidered a loner because of it. Your biggest mistake in life has been conforming to the ways of someone you despise. Sawyer 83% Charlie 75% Jack 42% Kate 42% Locke 42% Sayid 33% Hurley 25% Michael 25% Claire 8% Which "Lost" Character Personality are You? created with QuizFarm.com

What Lost Character Are You?

You are Jack!You are a kind and considerate soul, and always put others before you. Maybe you need to take some time out from helping others, andinstead help yourself.
Take this quiz!








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You scored as Kate. You are Kate! Even with your spotty past of bank robbery and trouble you are a known as a nice girl who loves adventure. You are one of the guys and will always volunteer to go exploring. Kate 44% Boone 31% Claire 31% Sayid 25% Jack 19% Locke 19% Michael 13% Shannon 13% Sun 6% Charlie 0% Sawyer 0% Which Lost Character Are You? created with QuizFarm.com

Which Lost Character are you?

And because quizzes are addictive....

You Are 20% Girly

Um... you're a guy, right? If not, you're the most boyish girl in the world. And for you, that's probably the ultimate compliment.

How Girly Are You?

Survey says....

"You are a Hermione at heart! You are obviously smart and sophisticated...but you tend to get a little annoying at times. I would put down the books for a little while and get out more!"
-- The Ultimate Harry Potter Character Quiz









-- Which HP Kid Are You?










-- Who Are You in the Harry Potter or Hogwarts Universe?














-- Harry Potter Personality Test










-- Which Harry Potter Character Are You?



I fear that perhaps I am going to drive my fellow European travellers nutters before we even meet up.

God helps those who can't help themselves

Yesterday afternoon I received a message with a strange injunction: "Allow the God-appointed powers time to do their work." Where such a message could easily have been followed up with a call to action, this was a call to prayer, which is a call to recognize that our actions are not, in and of themselves, of ultimate significance.

There is a part of me that hates that. It's the part of me that wants to be in control, that doesn't think God knows what He's up to, that wonders how much good my pathetic little prayers could accomplish, or that wonders why my exquisitely worded prayers don't accomplish more.

I listened to the other part of me as I turned my energies towards prayer today, the part of me astounded and humbled and excited about the notion of God-ordained powers. Prayer is numbered among the God-ordained powers. Whether they are long or short, whether they flow swiftly or drag along torturously, whether or not the vocabulary is formal, they all go through the same person, who has become the holy veil for us, simultaneously mediating for us and ushering us into the presence of God.

My prayers, joined with those of hundreds of others, have been heard. Good has come out of an evil situation. Also, things went really well at my office today. I don't think this is a coincidence.

The part of me that hates to be subservient to another rushes to find "scientific explanations" for all of these things. To get me off the hook from praying, I guess, under the guise of keeping myself humble. But a deeper part of me knows that God is working in the world. That somehow, as Charlotte Brontë wrote, "God, who does the work, ordains the instrument." And that out of His mercy, God has appointed me to join His orchestra.

Bless the Lord, o my soul,

and all that is within me

bless His holy name.

He has done great things.

England and parts east

I'm heading out to England, France (well, Paris), and Austria this summer with my friend Kerri and her friend Angie and maybe some other people. Any must-see suggestions for our intrepid group of travelers?

Juxtaposition

The other night I was watching the news at the gym, and there were two big stories:

1) The gunman in Virginia
2) The Supreme Court decision to uphold a partial birth abortion ban

The focus in reporting on the first was on the madness of this kid who somehow thought that he had the right to determine who was fit to live.

The focus in reporting on the second was on the madness of groups who said that killing a child--oh, wait, fetus--halfway delivered should not happen.

Most of the people I heard talking about the court case were upset, saying that this could lead to further bans. And one person said something like, "Well, this just means the fetus will have to be dismembered inside the mother, which is dangerous for the patient."

The difference between what happened at Virginia Tech and what happens in clinics across the country must be that life experience grants you the right to expect that there are safe environments in which people will not kill you. Which explains why we value our elderly so much, right? The cumulation of life experience?

In the reporting on the Supreme Court decision, some people were expressing concerns over having women required to view ultrasounds or learn more about the abortion process before going through with it. Isn't that a championing of uninformed choice? Or the right to choose what a somebody tells you to choose? Are they afraid that the women might think, "That looks like a baby...a human baby. I can't kill it!"

If that's so, given what happened last Monday, they don't have grounds to get too concerned.

Greater is He

After another horrific event, the usual shock is setting in amongst my fellow Americans. The usual rounds of "How could somebody do this?" are beginning.

It's possibly more horrific that some of us, myself included, are jaded to all this. I expect war, and tragedy, and murder. Some people believe in the basic goodness of people, in the face of evidence like this. Like Anne Frank, they believe that people are good even when they are faced with evil in one of its most purely obvious forms. I, on the other hand, often believe in the overwhelming power of the wickedness of people, even in the face of God.

I believe in the Fall. I'm surrounded by its evidence, and I don't have to look to a campus in Virginia for that evidence. I see it in my preference for the comfort of solitude over the messiness of community. I see it in my quick scorn for those who cross me, even accidentally. I see it in the way I judge my self-worth by others. I see it in my readiness to cede ground to the devil--in a land increasingly devoted to the pursuit of what feels right at the time, what's another school shooting? Can't we expect that's going to happen more and more?

It is only the sustaining hand of God, I say, that keeps me from doing just what that student did today. And although I don't know where it ranks alongside mass murder, I know the casual hatred for others I feel spring up in my heart all too often is called murder, and it is odious in the sight of God.

I know it is by the Lord's mercy we are not consumed. I am not surprised when I witness, in myself or others, the evidence that we need every bit of that mercy.

This is what amazes me--that in the face of all the evil in the world, and even in His people, He has not consumed us. "His compassions fail not. They are new every morning." Great is His faithfulness.

Wickedness shows us we need drastic measures to be saved.

Christ shows us there is a God who is willing to take those measures to save us.

How could something like this tragedy happen? How could it not, on this side of heaven? But remember and believe: this side is not all there is.