The Typewriter and the Teaspoon

One of those moments

2011-05-28T12:56:00.002-05:00

It was one of those moments that changes things, just a little.

We were at Meijer, looking at yogurt. Mom signaled that I had something on the corner of my mouth. I brushed at the offending matter. Mom said that I didn't get it and then used her thumb to clean the corner of my mouth. Not exactly a "spit-wash" but close enough. I recoiled, saying "don't!" Mom repeated that I didn't get whatever was on my face. I said, "I'm 26 years old!"

I'm fairly sure I hurt her feelings.

I think that this is how our parents start to realize that we're adults, in the little moments like this. Sure, there are the big things like college, marriage, moving away...but we are always thought of as their children. Sometimes that's nice and comforting. But sometimes, like in instances of public grooming, it is not okay.

Maybe these moments are like ticks on a kitchen timer and when the timer goes off, we're adults.

Turabian Nights

2011-05-20T13:22:00.003-05:00

Or, "How I stopped worrying and learned to love the term paper"

One more year of seminary under my belt. Even though I took a staggering 18 credits this past semester, I only had one final. Amazing right? You would think that.

I also had two term papers: one for ethics and one for Greek. Both of them were longish and both of them were due the same week. As for most of my generation, working ahead has never been my game. I wrote about a gazillion papers in undergrad (English/Communications major, go figure) and know my way around a library, a database, a footnote, etc. But that doesn't mean I actually like or am motivated to write a paper. Give me a blue book any day.

Here's a little scenario for you:

(not that this actually happened...)

Sunday: 2 pm

Hours left to write paper: 22

Pages written: 0

Currently: Napping

Sunday: 4 pm

Hours left: 20

Pages written: 0

Currently: Writing down the bibliographic information for the books I checked out from the library but haven't actually read yet.

Sunday: 10 pm

Hours left: 14

Pages written: 0

Currently: Writing an outline for my paper based on the books that I skimmed over the last six hours. Also, watching season 3 of BtVS.

Monday: 1 am

Hours left: 11

Pages written: 2

Currently: Starting season 4 of BtVS, making coffee, and nursing a paper cut.

Monday: 2 am

Hours left: 10

Pages written: 8

Currently: Running down to the 24-hour mart for a Snickers and other performance enhancers.

Monday: 4 am

Hours left: 8

Pages written: 14 (completed)

Currently: Final read-through followed by printing. Rummaging through the medicine cabinet for sleeping pills because I have to go to work in 8 hours and I'm all hyped up on caffeine.

Monday: 6 am

Hours left before work: 6

Paper done.

Currently: Counting sheep. Very Greek sheep. Can't sleep. Try conjugating verbs. Think of a more clever conclusion to my paper. Start revisions in my jammies.

MLK Lenten Reflection

2011-04-01T14:47:00.003-05:00

One of the most famous mountaintop experiences of our time is that of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. We do not know exactly when and where he had it but he spoke about it in his prophetic Mountaintop Speech made in Memphis, Tennessee on April 3, 1968. As it turned out, that speech was to be his last because the following day, only hours after he made that speech, he was stopped by an assassin’s bullet. The Mountaintop Speech ended with these words:

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land....

Can you imagine what would have become of the followers of Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights Movement if King had died without making that speech? Maybe he would have gone down in history as another disillusioned dreamer. Maybe his followers would have suffered a loss of faith in the cause for which King lived and died. Maybe they would have given up on the Civil Rights Movement and the Dream. But that speech made all the difference. It prepared them for the trauma that was soon to come. It assured them that King was not simply a victim of circumstance but that his death was somehow part of God’s plan in the long struggle for liberation.

King compared his situation to that of Moses who was appointed by God to lead the Israelites from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land. After a lifetime of faithful service as leader of God’s people in their long journey through the desert, Moses himself would die without reaching the Promised Land. That such a selfless and committed leader who has spent himself in the cause of liberation should fail to reach it himself seems incomprehensible to us, but that appears to be a regular pattern in the mystery of God’s design. Now, in order to help Moses and his people bear the shock and the consequent crisis of faith this would generate, God led Moses up Mount Nebo and there on the mountaintop, God granted him a preview of the Promised Land and its glory. With that Moses was reassured that God was still being faithful to His promise and the people were reassured that Moses was indeed the man of God that he claimed to be.

Something similar is happening on the Mount of the Transfiguration in today’s gospel. James and John had followed Jesus because they wanted special seats at his right hand and at his left (Mark 10:37). Peter wanted to know what he would get since he had left everything to follow Jesus (Mark 10:28). These were men who believed that the fact that Jesus was the Messiah was going to translate into visible, tangible dividends in this life both for Jesus and for them his followers. If Jesus had not prepared them beforehand by giving them a glimpse into the heavenly glory that was his and theirs at the end of their journey of faith, they would have been devastated by the shock of Jesus’ shameful death as a public criminal. Just as the Mountaintop Speech prepared Martin Luther King and his followers, and the mountaintop experience on Mount Nebo prepared Moses and the Israelites, so the Transfiguration prepared Jesus and his special assistants who would assume the mantle of leadership after him for the trauma that was soon to come.

Many of us spend our daily lives in the valley of toil and hardship. We feel abandoned by God and begin to doubt our faith and its promises. If we remain close to Jesus during this season of Lent, one mountaintop experience is all that we need and our doubts and fears will turn into blessed assurance. All because our eyes have seen the glory of the Lord, our own future glory.

-with regards to Fr. Munachi E. Ezeogu cssp

Queen of Tuesday

2011-03-15T21:03:00.003-05:00

I needed a battery for my DVD remote.*

It was 9:10pm. Best Buy, where this particular battery can be found, closes at 9:30pm.

I drive slightly over the speed limit to get to Best Buy.

Success! They are open. They have the battery. I buy it. I win!

While driving home, I think about how I am the Queen of Tuesday.

Until I have the sneaking suspicion that I locked my front door without grabbing my keys.

Now I start thinking that I really should hid a spare key or keep one in my car.

Upon reaching my front door, I discover that I have in fact locked myself out.

I walk over to my neighbor's who has a key to my house. But they have gone to bed already.

(and...bonus....I left my phone at home too so I can't call anyone else who might have a key)

This is sad. I have been demoted to Court Jester of Tuesday.

I get back to my house, resigned to climb through the kitchen window.

(I knew this was going to happen eventually so I've long had a plan on how to do this)

I slide up the screen and the window.

I lift my right foot through the window and hop into place to pull myself through.

I then take my foot down because I'm going to rip something: my hammie or my pants.

After emptying the water and debris from the planter, I use it as a step into the window.

With the grace of a ninja, I climb through the window.

Success! I'm in the kitchen! I am Queen of Tuesday!

This calls for the ceremonial drinking of the Last Beer in the Fridge. Cheers!

*It's really hard to navigate a Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVD without a remote.

Two Reviews

2011-03-12T09:52:00.002-06:00

ADELE

She's this amazing singer and she just put a new album 21. You may have heard her when she guest spotted on Ellen. Or when she did NPR's "Tiny Desk Concert". Or when she won a couple of Grammys a few years back for her album 19. You might have read about her in Slate or Salon. In fact, me writing about her right now is totally superfluous.

Adele is a Brit with powerhouse vocals inspired by traditionally American South musical styles. Her major hit off of her first record was "Chasing Pavements". This time around it's "Rolling in the Deep" with it's sick beat, soul-inspired sound, and amazing lyrics:

The scars of your love, they remind me of us

They keep me thinking that we almost had it all

The scars of your love, the leave me breathless

I can't help thinking that we could've had it all

Rolling in the deep

You had my heart inside of your hands

And you played it to the beat

It's hard to demonstrate in words how amazing Adele is. I've been listening to her almost exclusively for a few days now, and I've concluded that she's quickly leap to my top 5 favorite female vocalists. I have to be careful not to rock out in public (on the train, in the coffee house) while listening to her because that would be embarrassing.

THE LOVER'S DICTIONARY a novel by David Levithan

I picked this up yesterday Krammer Books in Washington DC. I was drawn to it because as I flipped through the pages, I was delighted in how Levithan was playing with words. The book is written like a dictionary, one entry per page, and each word is defined within the context of this relationship story. So, as you read through the definitions in order, you can piece together the story. But certain things are out of place and each word entry is like a snapshot or a piece of dialogue or a layer to the story. Some of it is very funny, some of it is very sad. But all of it is clever and beautiful. I read it cover to cover in about an hour.

The book flap summery is:

How does one talk about love? Do we even have the right words to describe something that can be both utterly mundane and completely transcendent, pulling us out of our everyday lives and making us feel a part of something greater than ourselves? Taking a unique approach this this problem, the nameless narrator of David Levithan's The Lover's Dictionary has constructed the story of his relationship as a dictionary. Through these short entries, he provides an intimate window into the great events and quotidian trifles of being within a couple, giving us an indelible and deeply moving portrait of love in our time.

I would have liked to give you an excerpt from the book, but I fear that is in fact illegal. What I have recopied may also be. Or not. I'm a little fuzzy on copyright laws because so rarely do I see them respected. Regardless, this book is brilliant. You should read it.

Check it out here

Valentine's Day

2011-02-10T22:41:00.002-06:00

Ah, V-Day. So many mixed feelings about this day.

I have never had a romantic partner during Valentine's Day. It just never worked out that way. In college, it was "Singles Awareness Day" or "Girls' Night". I've spent time with close female friends cooking dinner, going out, seeing movies. This year I'm doing a Single Ladies Night Out for Drinks; one of my gay male friends is hosting.

I don't hate happy couples. I like being part of one. I'm not bitter about being alone, in fact, I'm thriving. There is plenty of love in my life, just none of it is in the form of a romantic partner right now. So my problem isn't in Valentine's Day in general, it's in the exclusivity.

Why not celebrate all sorts of loving relationships including family bonds and friendships?

Why does this holiday have to be so hetero-centric? I was out to dinner with my best friend last year and a man walked through the restaurant selling roses. He approached every heterosexual couple in the place, which included us, but both being girls, that wasn't immediately apparent. And don't even get me started on the non-representation of LGBT relationships in the greeting card industry.

Why is it that I get the urge to buy something (flowers, chocolate, singing stuffed bears) for someone, anyone when I hate commercialism? Advertisers suck.

One of the redeeming values of Valentine's Day is that this is the time of year one usually sees productions of the Vagina Monologues cropping up. If you haven't see it and if you like feminism, humor, and irreverence- DO IT. I've seen it twice and it's awesome. And more often then not, a hefty chunk of the ticket proceeds go to agencies that help women affected by domestic violence.

If you do need a little V-day giggle, check out these uncommon sentiments from someecards.com

Oh, Hey There

2011-01-21T22:09:00.002-06:00

I've been thinking about what to write here on and off for awhile. Subjects will come into my mind and then I don't have enough time to get here and write them. Here are some of the things I've thought about writing about during the last three(ish) months.

KIDS TOYS THAT I HATE (or Adventures in Nannying)

Since I've been nannying for over a year now, I've made some conclusions about children's toys. The smaller they are, the more frustrating they are. I've spent more time dressing and undressing 1.5 inch plastic dolls in rubber dresses than I care to think about. And doctor's kits? You can never fit all the pieces in there again. The only educational value in toys that light up and play music is to teach adults how to breathe deep and be patient. Conclusion: my grandparents had some Lincoln Logs, Legos, and Weebles. I'll stick with those.

MY CHANGING RELATIONSHIP WITH SNOW

I've always been a big failure at all winter-related sports. Sledding, snow shoeing, skiing, cross-country skiing, ice skating....I not only suck at them, but I hate doing them. Not to mention I hate driving in it. A couple years ago, I totaled the car I was driving in a weather-related accident. I don't really fancy hanging upside-down by my seatbelt again. Here in NJ, we don't get near as much snow as I experienced growing up. The roads and schools close earlier and for less snowfall. The opportunities for winter sports are few and far between. As much as I hate snow and "winter culture" I sort of find that I miss that.

LESSONS LEARNED AFTER EIGHT MONTHS

I was in a relationship for eight months. It recently ended. Thank you, I'm fine. I don't regret the time we spent together, however, it did become clear that it wasn't a forever relationship. I learned things about myself that I think that I only could have learned in a relationship. I learned more about what I want both in the person that I marry and for my future. I learned that being loved romantically helps my self-esteem, but doesn't negate my baggage. I learned about communication. I learned about expressing my needs. This list could go on, eight months is a long time. But this was a season in my lift, one of growth, and now it has come to a close.

I THINK MY HOUSE IS A LITTLE HAUNTED

I've lived in this house for just shy of a year now. It's one of the oldest buildings in town and generally pretty noisy. Lots of old pipes and vents. Weird things happen: The dryer door popped open when I was out of the room. The shelf that I keep my laundry soaps on mysteriously fell off the wall. Scratching noise in the wall that stops when I place my hand on the wall. A light on my bedside stand that will turn off or on randomly (although I attribute this to a loose wire, most of the time). I don't feel creeped out or unsafe in my house, just strange things happen sometimes.

There could be more mini-posts, but I don't think any of those are interesting. These might not be interesting either. Meh, it's the first week of classes and I'm trying to put off my homework a little longer.

Playing Dress Up

2010-10-12T17:53:00.011-05:00

Halloween is coming. I love Halloween. It combines two of my favorite things; Candy and Dressing Up. I haven't had a reason to dress up for this holiday in quite awhile. I haven't had a house to hand out candy from or parties to go to. It has been a sad state of affairs for several years. But this year, I have been invited to The Burning of the Wickerman at my friend's house in South Jersey. People show up in costume. So now, I have to come up with a costume. I may be coming a little late to the "getting a costume" party, but I need to start somewhere. Here are my ideas so far.

Velma.

She is totally cool. She was the brains of the whole Scooby-Doo gang. Without her, villains everywhere would still be hoodwinking innocent (and gullible scardy pants) folks for personal profit and fame. Sure, she's a complete nerd. But let's face it, so am I. This would be a pretty easy costume for me to pull off because I just need to find a red pleated skirt and orange knee socks. I'd

probably even spring for a pair of non-prescription BCGs.

Nun.

So there is this long-standing joke about how I'm going to drop out of school and become a nun. I even had some folks going with an April Fools day blog post a couple years ago. I also think it would be pretty ironic to show up to a pagan Halloween ritual dressed as a religious figure. Especially since I'm a Protestant. I would probably have to go online to find a costume for this or at least a pattern so that I could make one.

Zombie.

Not exactly the most original or unique costume, but always a super fun one. Some old, torn, dirty, bloody clothes and face makeup and BAM, instant zombie. All I would need to get is the makeup and look for tips online on how to make a convincing zombie. Vampires are so popular (and sexy), but Zombies totally hold the the award for being super cool monsters and I'm pretty sure there are more zombie movies. No one ever wants to cuddle with a zombie. They have more important things to do, like eat brains.

So these are my ideas so far. If there is one that you think is a better idea then the others, let me know.

If you have another idea or want to share your plans for Halloween mayhem, I'd love to hear about it.

Live from the Parsonage Kitchen

2010-09-25T23:44:00.002-05:00

Sunday School meets in the parsonage. I teach the "post-confirmation" group. We have decided that we will have breakfast together every time we meet. Tonight, I remembered that I don't think anyone volunteered to bring breakfast for tomorrow morning. So, I set about making muffins.

I don't have a lot of muffin making stuff in the house. I took the recipe for "Sunday Morning Muffins" from my Vegetarian Student Cookbook and made some alterations. Like a lot of them. I didn't have applesauce, so I used mashed bananas. I added cocoa powder. Raisins and cinnamon didn't seem right but I didn't have walnuts so I chopped up some almonds and threw those in. I added milk because the bananas don't have the moisture content that applesauce does. It was the thickest muffin batter I had ever seen. I was skeptical about the sort of muffins it would make, but I dutifully filled my muffin tins and baked them.

They smelled like banana muffins and even now my kitchen smells divine. As I took them out of the oven, I got to thinking, "Hey, these can be my famous 'Parsonage Muffins'. People will request them for coffee hour. I am a baking genius." Once they were slightly cooled, enough to eat, I tried one. And....I'm not sure if they are decent or disgusting.

First off they are really dense. I should call them Chocolate Banana Brick Muffins. Secondly, I'm not sure if they needed more sugar or less cocoa, but the balance isn't right. Maybe less bananas? The almonds wasn't my most inspired move either. But I will serve them to Sunday school class. I will even pretend that I knew what I was doing when I made them. But this will be a one time offer, because what's the point of making muffins if they aren't fabulous?

On a better note, I made the most delicious drink the other day. It felt like something from "Semi-Homemade with Sandra Lee" (which my father loves to watch). I took frozen watermelon and slushy-fied it with a shot of vodka*. I poured this in a glass and then topped it off with OJ. It was about half and half juice to slush. Add a bendy straw and it's cocktail hour. I call it, Parsonage Punch. And it really enhanced my studying. For serious.

*Actually, it was two shots. Hey, I wasn't driving. Just don't think I'm a lush okay?

Adventurous Commute

2010-09-01T16:39:00.004-05:00

Do you remember that video game Paper Boy? The object of the game was simple, deliver news papers to the houses while avoiding things that made you crash and don't deliver to the wrong houses. The difficult thing was, that obstacles would appear out of nowhere or move unexpectedly. Well, this is sort of what it is like on my commute to school.

Heavy, unpredictable pedestrian traffic. I respect the pedestrian. I walked to school for several years. However, I always used the crosswalk. I know you want to cross the street right here, you college student you, but really, jumping out into traffic is dangerous. I expect to stop and wait at a crosswalk, I always do. So do my blood pressure a favor and use it. I don't really want to commit vehicular manslaughter.

Cars coming from side streets. The streets are so heavily parked, that cars on side streets can't see main traffic very well so they pull into the main road. I almost hit 3 cars today because of this. THREE. In a half hour drive. Once the other driver realizes that I had to SLAM my breaks to avoid hitting his or her car, there is always this dance of hand gesture and slow decision making to determine who goes first: Me (who has the right of way but did just stop) or the other driver (who is half way through the intersection anyway but is clearly breaking traffic laws and inconveniencing the whole world).

Getting cut off. Once I'm out of the residential part of my drive, things generally get a little easier. But the road I take has this funny way of being two lane, merging into one lane, becoming two lane at the next light, only to merge back into one lane. Over and over again all the way home. I get cut off all the time from people who speed up the (sometimes disappeared) right lane to cut into traffic in order to pass 5 or 6 cars at a time. They are like ninja cars, sneaky and unannounced. I hate them.

No left-turn lane. If the road I travel was in Michigan, there would be a left turn lane running down the middle, ala 28th street in Grand Rapids. I like the left turn lane, although it can get a little hairy sometimes. But the road I am discussing doesn't have one of these. In fact, I don't think the Michigan concept of an extended left turn lane exists in Jersey. But there is a wide right side median for going around folks who are turning left. This works just as well, when people remember that they can do that. When they don't and several cars pass them while they are waiting for the person ahead of them to turn, they then want to use the right median, but cars are passing them and they can't but then traffic behind them stops so they can get over and meanwhile the guy who was turning left has done so and now the guy in the median needs to get back in the main line of traffic again but this just causes more break lights and horns honking because traffic has now shifted from the median to the main road and the guy who forgot he could use the median instead of waiting has just cause traffic to back up because he can't make up his damn mind. (the length of the preceding sentence is proportional to my frustration with this) (I use "guy" and "he" but all genders do this).

A neat thing though is that I did see this guy on a motorcycle on the way to class this morning. At least, I'm fairly certain it was him. Red bike, red jacket, red backpack, red helmet, and similar body type. Who else could it have been?

Seminary 201

2010-08-29T23:31:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow is the first day of school. Well, I guess today is, since it is after midnight.

I have a pretty awesome schedule. Mondays, I have Ministerium (a cohort for those in Field Education that all 2nd year students must take) and Biblical Greek. On Tuesdays, I've got Foundations of Theology I. And on Wednesday morning I have my last class of the week: Intro to Worship. The Worship class is only seven weeks long, so when it is done, I'll have Pastoral Administration. I'm only taking 13 credits but I'm doing two units of Field Education which will be a significant demand on my time. I'll be doing both Christian Education and Pastoral Administration at my church this year. In addition to stepping up my youth minister responsibilities and still nannying about 20 hours a week, I'll be pretty busy.

I've got my school supplies all bought. I still need a few books, but they will come soon enough. I finally got help building my desk today after several months of waiting. I've got some snappy new clothes, including a suit to make me look ultra-professional. Except for the sleeves of my jacket are too long because I have freakish body proportions, so I'll have to get it tailored. (until then, I will sort of look like I'm playing dress up when I wear the jacket)

On a conscious level, I don't have any anxiety about this semester. Yes, I will be balancing more than I have before, but I'm good at balancing and all the people involved are really gracious with me. My funding came through. My car works. I have food in the fridge. I have books on my shelf.

But I think on a sub-atomic level, I must be freaking out. I haven't been sleeping normally and I don't have much of an appetite. I've had swinging moods from grumpy to manic. All signs of my anxiety disorder showing its massive hydra-head.

(I so relate to this PostSecret)

Breathe. Sleep. Eat. Pray. (love?) Read. Shower. Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

Sudsy Feet ('cuz I'm on my Soap Box)

2010-07-31T10:42:00.003-05:00

This is my niece, Emma. She is three. She is adorable. I needed to say that just in case you couldn't tell from the photo. I think of her when I think about the objectification of women that doesn't seem to let up, ever.

Recently I read an article about "Bikini Baristas". Women who serve coffee wearing bikinis and lingerie. I understand that people have the right to run their business the way they see fit and in this economy, coffee houses have just as hard of a time as anyone else. But what really floors me is that the particular business highlighted in the article was started by a woman. Really? Way to set back the strides made by feminists everywhere, sister. Thanks for that.

I'm really tired of being seen as a set of parts to be evaluated based on size and color. I'm really tied of little girls starving themselves and over-exercising to gain approval. I'm tired of culture's obsession with things like "Stars without Makeup!" and "Beach Bods: Who's got it and who doesn't".

Emma's mom and I were teenagers once and experienced this pull toward the perfect image in the desperate way that teenagers usually feel it. They are the group hit hardest by this bull shit. What disheartens me the most is that as a new generation is growing up, the culture has not changed. We know the objectification of women is toxic for both men and women alike and yet we just can't get enough of it. Bottom line, sex sells. Just ask the advertising executives of the foul-smelling Axe body spray campaign.

There are some bright spots on the horizon. And seriously, these are the only things that help me sleep at night sometimes. And this clearly is not an exhaustive list. I've just been reading about these lately.

Dove Campaign for Real Beauty

Girl Scouts "Changing the Face of Fashion"

Girl's Inc.

And this gives me a joy deep down in my bones:

Greeting Card: RANT

2010-07-22T17:44:00.002-05:00

I was looking for a birthday card for a close friend of mine. It took me a good 15 minutes. And as the time ticked by, I grew more and more frustrated.

First of all, birthday cards are hyper-gendered. For little girls, there are pink cards with girl-marketed cartoon characters, rainbows, kittens, and the like. For little boys, the cards are blue with stereotypical male themes like sports, trucks, dogs, and race cars.

With adults, the gender stereotypes get more disgusting. There is the over-sexualizing of the other gender. "Hey Stud, guess what I got you for your birthday" with a picture of some scantily clad, overly buxom woman. "For your birthday, open this card to see the picture without the box" and upon opening the card, the picture of the hunky, naked guy with a black box over his genitals is the same, only the box has been cut out.

Objectification at it's finest folks.

Another them I noticed pertaining to gender were messages that berated the reader about the deteriorating of sexual prowess in advancing age. If I were a man, I would not want a card with a guy overhead lifting a smallish barbell with the inside message "Even if your equipment is old and laughably small, at lest you can still get it up". Yeah, happy birthday.

Then there are the overwhelming number of cards about drinking, over-drinking, irresponsible partying, strippers, and lewdness. Nothing too bad, because these are in the market after all, but just over the line enough to be funny to some and completely horrifying to me. These sorts of cards span both genders, but that isn't the sort of equality I was looking for.

These aren't new trends in the greeting card industry. I just started noticing it more. The problem isn't so much with the industry, it goes back to culture. Supply and demand. If there wasn't a market for these cards, they wouldn't be made. And that is the most disappointing thing. We live in a culture where birthday greetings must be accompanied by perpetuating hurtful stereotypes, objectification, and glamorizing grossly irresponsible behavior.

Are there card companies that don't do this? Are there birthday cards that I can get that aren't a part of these genres without being overly-sappy schlock (another rant) or blank? I think so, but they are just harder to find because they are in shorter demand. I'm not ready to give up just yet.

Laughing at...Myself.

2010-07-14T12:46:00.003-05:00

Ever have it where you seriously just crack yourself up? I'm talking there is no way you cannot take a moment to have a seriously good laugh, not just a chuckle. It's a little embarrassing when it happens in a group of people because, at least for me, no one finds me nearly as funny as I find myself. But when it happens when I'm by myself, it makes me so happy.

So I'm sitting in my office, taking a break from VBS planing to check Facebook for the first time today. I notice that a friend has a post about going on a trip. This is what transpires:

Friend: Going to Traverse City....

Stranger: ....eat lots of cherries!

Me: But not TOO many or else you get the poops.

Using the word "poops" in a public forum make me start shaking with mirth until I released what most of you know as my very obnoxious laugh. But remember, I'm in my office at this point, so it's okay. I know, it's silly. And seriously, how old am I? Ten?

Anybody else have stories where they just bust out laughing for the most ridiculous reason? I'd love to hear it.

Upstate New York

2010-07-08T11:16:00.005-05:00

Well, vacation is over. My summer job/internship began today.

I don't know all the details yet, but here is what I think that I'll be doing-

-Leading summer Vespers services. This means picking out poetry, reading it, and listening to decent Jazz music twice a month.

-Coordinating volunteers for two free park lunches for kids

-Volunteering at the Damian Center, which is a HIV/AIDs ministry that serves meals.

-Filling in as liturgist for Sunday morning services as needed

-Doing background research for the alternative worship team

-Any other jobs that come up at the church, as needed

So I'll be busy. I will probably go up to the local summer camp and say hi to those folks. I'm planing on tagging along to an Irish Festival with my supervisor. I'm house-sitting too, so that means mowing the lawn, feeding the cat, and eating their food.

Handy Annie

2010-06-25T17:36:00.003-05:00

When I moved into the parsonage, I knew things had to change. The wallpaper was positively hideous. It started in the master bedroom, cream colored with a montage of little flowers and bows. In the bathroom, the ugliness continued. Only this time it was whitish with dark blue diamonds all over. When I sat down on the toilet, I just about went cross-eyed. But that has all begun to change.

The wall paper has been gone in the bedroom for awhile. It took about a week and a half, but I got it all down. Then came the spackling and sanding. Finally, I primed and painted the walls. My room is now a lovely light mossy green. "Martinique Dawn" to be exact. I've hung some old windows, my tree tapestry, an ancient mirror I found in a closet, a Joel Tanis print, threw in a chair, dresser, bookshelf and of course a bed, and the room is coming along quiet nicely.

Today ended the battle with the bathroom wallpaper. The final blow came when I took the toilet tank off and got to the last scraps that hid behind the toilet. I then took the time to do a poor priming job before putting the toilet back together. Now the tank leaks because I damaged one of the washers around the bolts. Nothing a quick trip to the hardware store won't be able to fix. The less I have to mess around with the toilet, the better. Not because I don't know what I'm doing but because porcelain is heavy and it's the only working toilet in the house. The bathroom will ultimately be a light blue, "Blue Tradition" which is just a touch lighter than the adjoining office color, which will be "Ice Sculpture".

I want to know who names these things and if I can have their job.

This whole home improvement kick makes me feel really empowered. I know taking down some wallpaper and painting isn't really that difficult. Even taking the toilet apart or installing a new light fixture isn't all that impressive. But it's the first time I've done any of these things. I want to flex and pose for Rosie the Riviter parody pictures. I want to high five Tim Taylor. I also want a manicure because my finger nails are totally messed up from all the wallpaper pulling.

Pictures to come. Promise.

More Observations on New Jersey from this Mid-West Girl

2010-06-07T10:05:00.002-05:00

FOOD AND BEVERAGE

When you order a coffee at a place where you are severed it to go, the person behind the counter fixes the coffee for you. In Michigan, all coffee is served black (unless you are at McDonalds) and you put in your own cream and sugar. But here, I need to be sure to order my coffee black. My friend always orders 2 sugar and cream. I can see the merits of this system.

Seltzer water is huge here. Often, when I go to someone's house, seltzer is one of the beverages that I'm offered. It comes in a variety of flavors, orange and lemon/lime being the most popular. It is also on many a restaurant menu. I don't particularly like seltzer, but I drink it from time to time to be hospitable.

For every privately owned coffee house in Michigan, there is a Dunkin Donuts here. People love them some Dunkin. I've been to fancy brunches for school and Dunkin Donuts coffee is severed. Starbucks doesn't have a huge presents here. I can't think of where the nearest one is but I could tell you about the four closest Dunkins are.

Diner culture is fantastic. I love diners. The closest thing I grew up with to a diner was Dennys or Stake n' Shake. But here, diners are everywhere. The menus can be a little bit of a mine field, so the more you go to the same diner, the more likely you're going to get good at knowing what to avoid ordering. At the Red Oak, the turkey is a little dry, so you need to order the cole slaw on the sandwich. At the Hillsborough diner, the Oreo cake looks good, but is really sort of gross. But they have amazing eggs benedict. Also, diners are open late and, depending on the area, 24 hours. Last semester I pulled an all nighter and then had pancakes at 5 am down at the Somerset diner.

WaWa. I need to tell you about WaWa. It is a chain of stores, sort of like a 7-11. The usual sparse groceries and coffee. But the coffee selection is huge, you can make your own milk shake, and they have a deli. All open 24 hours. I could go get a hoagie from WaWa at 2 am if I wanted. Apparently, their sandwiches are fantastic, but I haven't tried one yet. There is one really close to my house that stocks an impressive variety of Ben and Jerry's.

WORDS

"Newark" is pronounced "Nork"

"Seltzer" is pronounced "seltza"

"Pizza" is almost always a "pie" or a "slice"

"How you doin'?" is the common greeting. Just like Joey from Friends.

"The City" is NYC and everybody knows it.

"The Dinkey" is the train station at Princeton.

TRAVEL

Can I just tell you how much I love taking the train? I can take it to the City. I can take it to the air port. I can take it to Washington DC. It is inexpensive and fast and efficient and lovely. I can get my ticket at a kiosk and never deal with tolls or speed limits or traffic. I have a friend who has been in two or three Amtrak crashes, (totally weird but she takes Amtrak all the time) but that hasn't put me off using the trains. There is always someone around who can drop at the train station for my latest adventure.

I love the Michigan Left turn. I think it is brilliant. Jersey has what is called a Jug Handle. I'll try to explain. If I'm going South on a highway and I want to go North, I need to find a marked "U-Turn" or "All Turns" sign, usually preceding a lighted intersection. I take the far right lane and exit the highway, doing a u-turn and stopping at the light. Usually, I can turn left at the light and start going North. However, sometimes I have to go straight at the light, do another u-turn to my right, and finally re-enter the highway going North. If you followed that, I'm impressed. It is as confusing as it sounds. I've lived here for 10 months and I still only have 80% Jug Handle proficiency.

Eats

2010-05-06T14:59:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I'm amazed at how good my experimental cooking turns out. I'm starting to think that I should write down what I do so I can do it again. But I never time or measure anything.

Right now I'm eating chicken breast encrusted with corn meal and spices with a side of honey-sweetened carrots and couscous.

Last night I had spicy green lentils with summer sausage and mushrooms.

Thawing for tomorrow is this kick-ass pasta salad with tuna, carrot shreds, green onion, celery, and this lemon/cilantro dressing.

Suffice it to say, I'm not starving. I'm actually eating pretty healthy. One of my favorite things is to make "ice box oatmeal" which is a recipe from my Student Vegetarian cookbook. Equal parts oats and milk with a handful of dried fruit in a bowl, covered, in the fridge overnight. With this I mix a thinger of yogurt and as much fresh fruit as I see fit. So delicious.

A Slow Slide Into Home

2010-05-02T20:10:00.003-05:00

On May 11, I will be done with my first year of seminary.

There is so much to do.

-One ten page paper (half done)

-A second ten page paper (should be easyish)

-One five page paper

-Two take home finals

-Seven journals (my own procrastination)

-Project for Laments class (writing poetry, not hard)

So basically a lot of writing.

Meanwhile, I'm fostering a new friendship, juggling church stuff, working, and living in almost complete squalor. I haven't done laundry in a while. Pretty much have stopped wearing clean clothes. That's gross. Pretend you didn't read that. I'm subsisting on meals I froze when I use to have time to cook (bonus for me for planning), coffee, and coca-cola.

Once school is done, the painting will ensue. I have the walls stripped of wallpaper and all spackled in the master bedroom just waiting for some primer and "Martinique Dawn" green paint. Then there is reading up for General Synod in June. Cleaning for when my mom comes to visit. This means vacuuming the dead ladybugs out of my window sills, among other things.

I'm a little stressed. Just a little.

EDIT: Laundry is done. Whoot.

Show and Tell

2010-04-13T13:01:00.003-05:00

I've been doing some research for my Poverty, Race, and Culture class project. I'm going to be writing a paper on how to teach White Privilege to my youth group kids. One of the places I went was to YouTube. This can be a great resource if used well. There is a lot out there and I know that I've only scratched the surface. I wanted to share two of videos with you.

The first is one that I'm not going to show to my students. It is a little dated, but I think has a lot of good things to say. Also, if you can take things out of the political context and look at the racial issues (which I think the commentator is trying to do) it is pretty clear that white privilege is a huge problem. If you don't know who Tim Wise is, he wrote the book White Like Me.

The second video I think I will show as a conversation starter. It's nice and simple and visual. The article that it is based on "Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack" by Peggy McIntosh is seen in many circles as a flagship writing on White Privilege. I don't think my kids will be able to engage the article and this might be a nice substitute.

The Check List.

2010-04-08T09:34:00.003-05:00

I'm going home to Michigan next week. Just taking a week off from school and getting out of Jersey. Granted, there is the Festival of Faith and Writing (now this blog entry will come up when they search. Hi FFW friends!) that I will be attending the later half of the week, and as excited as I am about that (which is a lot), I've got some other things to do while I'm in town.

1. Drink Oberon. If you do not know, and I can't see how you wouldn't, Oberon is the best summer beer. It is brewed in K-zoo and I can't get it here. It is Oberon season baby, cut me an orange.

2. Play with my niece. Emma turned 3 last month. I miss that kid more than I ever thought I could. I'm going to try and bust her out of day care and take her to the mall so we can "build a bear".

3. Pack my car. I need several things from my parents' house. Including but not limited to: camping gear, DVDs, box fans, steamer trunk containing board games, and dishes.

4. See people. Some of this will happen naturally at the Festival but some of this will take some carefully placed phone calls.

5. Have a family dinner. It's been awhile folks, since the Reilly clan has gotten together. BBQ in the back yard.

6. Get a haircut. For a long time (like 6 years) I would rely on getting free haircuts from friends in their kitchens. I've never had a bad haircut, unless you count the time I shaved my head and then that was my own fault. Now I get my haircut by a friend of mine who is actually a professional. And I tell you the truth, I've never looked better.

7. Buy Oberon and NHB beers to bring back to Jersey and price gouge my mid-west friends while selling it out of my trunk. Part of this statement is true.

8. Go to the lake.

9. Hit up all my old haunts or as many of them as I can: Lemonjellos, Common Ground, Sparrows, Cambridge House, Marie Catribe's, 76, Sami's, The Meanwhile, Mulligans, The Derb, Last Chance.....(these are all restaurants, coffee houses and bars)

10. Take pictures. I don't have enough photos of my beloved roots. It's time.

Passover

2010-03-31T12:31:00.003-05:00

Last night I went to Passover dinner. The people I nanny for are Jewish and their parents always hold two nights of Passover dinner at their house. I got to come for the second night, which is basically the same as the first night. If you ever get a chance to go to a Passover dinner, do it. As a Christian, my roots are in the Jewish tradition. The story of Passover is familiar to me but all the cultural and symbolic aspects were new and wonderful. It really is a great dinner. Granted, it takes about 5 to 7 hours though.

Things I love about Passover:

Kosher Coca-Cola: Corn products are not Passover Kosher. So durning Passover in areas highly populated with Jewish families, Coke will be sold sweetened with cane sugar. It is delicious.

Passover cupboard purge: Okay, so I don't know the official name for this. During the week of Passover, you need to get all of your non-Passover Kosher food out of the house. Passover Kosher is stricter than regular Kosher and includes all forms of levin, corn, legumes, and basically anything that isn't prepared Kosher. Some Jews plan for this spring cleaning and start eating all the non-Passover Kosher food six weeks in advance. My employers aren't really planners like that. I've got five grocery bags full of random food stuffs from their cupboard purge. I win.

Matza: SInce I never have a reason to eat matza, I find it to be a tasty cracker alturnative. My friend with a wheat and gluten allergy eats it all the time. A little cream cheese and Kosher jam? Yes please. Pizza sauce and shredded cheese? Delicious. Hillel sandwich? (beet sweetened horseradish and chopped apples and walnuts which are Passover foods) Bring it on.

Passover Candy: Chocolate covered marshmallow twists. Fruit gels. Chocolate covered matza.

Things I hate about Passover:

Gefilte. (pronounce Gi-filt-Ah) This is fish ground up with matza meal and horseradish and evil. It is then made into patties, jarred, and sold to be served to unsuspecting Goys everywhere. I've heard that if you make it fresh instead of buying it in a jar, it is much better. I highly doubt it. My boss says it takes 25 tries in order to aquire a taste for something so I need to take a bite of Gefilte every time I work. I told him that I need a 25% raise.

A Conversation

2010-03-27T21:43:00.001-05:00

Girl I nanny: You're kinda smelly.

Me: That's not very nice. It hurts my feelings when you say that.

Girl: *blank stare*

Me: It makes me sad.

Girl: *kisses my cheek* You happy now?

Me: Yes. That was very sweet.

Living Alone

2010-02-24T21:33:00.004-06:00

For the first time in my life, I've been living alone. It feels like I've been here a lot longer than three and a half weeks. There are definite perks to living by myself. I don't have to close the bathroom door if I don't feel like it. No one will object to what I set the thermostat to. I can have whatever music I want at whatever volume I want it at. I can stay up and sleep in without any judgment. I can have frozen waffles and a beer for dinner without questions. (I haven't done this yet, but I've thought about it)

But with all the good things about living alone, I have never felt more firmly that we, as humans, are not meant to be alone. My friend at Princeton calls me a social trinitarian. I believe that since we are created in the image of God, and since God is a trinity (perfect community), therefore we are innately designed to live in community. Just think of all the ways that our society tries to manufacture 'community'. Online social networking. Product followings. Affiliations. Memberships. Style labeling. Musical taste. TV show watching groups. ad nauseum....

On Facebook, I'm a fan of New Holland Brew Company, a Calvin College alum, a member of ProClergy, a casual hipster, Rhinelander and Gleek.

And while some of these communities are real and give me a sense of connectedness, most of them are superficial. Now that I spend much of my free time by myself, I find that relationship and community are important. I'm re-learning what it means to really spend "quality time" with people and to be present to them. My listening skills are definitely getting better. I have no time for small talk. People are important. Just as infants will cease to flourish if they aren't touched, so too is this true for the human soul. At least, that is the opinion of this social trinintarian.

A Word About Privilege

2010-02-12T16:32:00.001-06:00

In route to Washington DC, I find myself at the Philadelphia 30^th Street Station. A woman, whom I can only assume is homeless, asks me to buy her something to eat. I can’t really blame her. I’m wearing North Face fleece and a scarf that I bought at an art museum in Seattle. On my right hand is the ring of the school where I received a bachelors degree. My backpack is covered with patches from places I’ve been and my luggage is from Lands End. In my pocket is a fairly nice cell phone and in the other is an ipod playing the soundtrack of a Broadway show I went to last year. She may not have recognized all these details but she did see that I am well dressed and groomed with a friendly face.

This woman, her name is Cathy, decided that she wanted to go to Au Bon Pain for a breakfast bagel and a cup of coffee. I paid, gave her the sandwich, and got a cup of coffee with her. But I take my coffee black and she was still fixing hers when I walked out of the café. I wasn’t settled on the concourse bench for much more than three minutes when Cathy came out of the café very upset because an employee assumed that she hadn’t paid for her coffee. She was calling my name and red in the face with frustration and tears. A police officer strolled calmly behind her.

I’ve always known that I’m privileged. I’m educated, employed, housed, fed, and white. Plus, God has blessed me with an extra measure of style. (wink) Unlike Cathy, I have corrective lenses and can read a café sandwich board. I have all my teeth thanks to a lifetime of insurance-covered dental work. I don’t have to show a receipt to prove that I’ve paid for something. I’m free to come and go as I please without much hassle.

The situation with the café and the officer got settled without more than a couple of words from me. I should have stayed with her until she was ready to leave the café but I didn’t even think that she would have a problem. I didn’t think. I didn’t think about it because I don’t have to.

First Sermon

2010-02-07T21:57:00.003-06:00

This is the sermon I wrote but not necessarily the one that I preached. I think I stayed about 70% to my manuscript. My first time preaching from a pulpit went really well. I got to wear a really cool robe. I got lots of compliments and encouragement. It felt good. Really good.

Dearly Beloved in the Lord Jesus Christ: it has been a joy to worship with you these past months and it is a privilege to do so from the pulpit today.

In Joshua 3 we have the story of how the Israelites came into the Promised Land through the crossing of the Jordan River. The Jordan River is about 900 meters wide at the widest points and not very deep. Much of the year there are large areas that are dried out. Despite the twists and turns that the river makes, it was pretty easy to get across once one got down the steep banks. However, according to the scripture, this was flood season. The water was high and rushing quickly. Crossing the Jordan is still possible this time of year, but it is much more difficult.

Now the crossing of the Jordan is a great time of transition for the people of God. They are transitioning from being a nomadic desert people into being a settled city people. They are transitioning from following Moses to following Joshua. They are transitioning from being a group to being a nation. They are transitioning from hearing the promises to having the promises fulfilled. All that stands between them and the land that they have been walking toward for 40 years is a raging, roaring, angry river.

Imagine that you are an Israelite. Moses, the great leader has just died. And now this guy Joshua says that you need to cross the river. You could hear the river before you could see it. And you are a person of the desert. You don’t really do water. You remember the old stories about how Moses raised his staff and parted the Red Sea. Joshua doesn’t have a staff and hasn’t done anything to prove that you can trust him yet. But he says that God will stop the water and everyone will cross over on dry land, just like with Moses. You are scared. The banks down to the water are so steep that once you start out, it’s pretty hard to turn around. Plus, if you turn around it would be dishonoring your leader and saying that you don’t trust God. You sure hope that Joshua is right. You sure hope that you can trust God. The air around camp is thick with tension and anxiety as the time draws near to cross the river. You have been chosen to be one of the first to slip slide down the banks. The roar of the river gets louder and you can feel flecks of water hit your face as you get further down the bank. The last few steps to the water, you are barely breathing. Now you and the others chosen to go first are all at the waters edge. You link arms and take the plunge into the icy waters of the Jordan.

Quicker than you can register the strength of the undertow, the river stops. It’s the silence that you recognize first because you had squeezed your eyes shut. But now you look down at the dry ground and then to your companions. Everyone has the same relieved look on their face. Someone starts laughing. Someone else says hallelujah. You smile as your heart fills with joy and you wonder why you ever doubted.

This is a great story. And for a long time that’s all it was for me, a great story. God has never asked me to take the plunge before. To take a risk and trust God to part the waters for me. God has never asked me to do that until last fall when I left a comfortable job in a familiar place to start a new life and a new ministry.

I received my call to ministry in the summer of 2008. A friend of mine, who is a minister, suggested that I would be great in the ministry. I was doubtful. A teacher, yes. A counselor, sure. But a minister? No way. What would my friends say? What would my parents think? Yet, the idea kept gnawing at me. All during that summer I was a counselor at Camp Tall Turf, a Bible camp in mid-Michigan. Our theme verse for the summer came from Jeremiah 1:7-8. Here, the Lord calls Jeremiah by saying “Do not say I am only a child. You must go where I send you and say what I tell you. Do not be afraid, I am with you and I will rescue you.” By the end of the summer, I was convinced that I could no longer make excuses and be afraid. I was going to seminary. I was going to take the plunge.

But saying this and committing to this are two very different things. I was like an Israelite, picking my way down the banks of the Jordon. Behind me, was giving in to doubt and denying my call. In front of me, a challenge that I wasn’t sure God was going to make a way in. But I packed up my little blue Volkswagon and moved half way across the country anyway. I decided to trust that God would provide me with a new family, new friends, and a new home. I decided to trust that I could handle the transition from being a professional to being a student again. It was the hardest, most nausea inducing decision I have ever made.

God did not part the water for the Israelites until they got their feet wet. And in the 5 months that I’ve been here, I have certainly gotten my feet wet. And the Lord has done amazing things. God has provided me not only with what I expected: the start of a good education and a place to live but also with things beyond anything I could have anticipated: a community and a ministry. It took all that was in me to trust God to make a way for me. And each morning I have to renew that trust. But also each morning God blesses me for taking the plunge and trusting in God’s faithfulness.

So this is what I bring to you. I bring a hope in a faithful God. I bring the desire to link arms with you to cross the Jordan and see God work wonders. Let’s tell our stories and let’s celebrate all that God is doing and will do in our lives, in the lives of our youth, and in the life of this church. Let’s take the plunge together as a community in Christ and stand in the dry riverbed saying halleluiah for mighty things God has done for us. Amen.

Am I Lame?

2010-01-21T12:47:00.003-06:00

The purpose of crutches is to make mobility easier when one is lame. Perhaps from a broken leg or sprained ankle. I have never experienced the need to use physical crutches. I have not, like my Korean classmate Daewon who contracted polio at age 2, had a disability that dictates the use of a crutch for my whole life. Yesterday during the first session of Poverty, Race, and Class, the professor told me that I couldn't use my crutch anymore.

This professor had me last semester. I'm not sure how to describe him but he is unlike any teacher I've ever had. He is older (60 maybe), African-American, stubborn, digressionary* and oddly playful at times. He is a community organizer who doesn't believe in soup kitchens or clothes closets and the like. Apparently he was chased out of Detroit by a mob in the late 80's. He has two versions of the syllabus, the written one he hands out and the oral one he inconsistently dictates from time to time. I'm taking this class from him for several reasons 1) I'm a little afraid of him 2) I think I need to take this class so maybe I can finally understand what he is saying** 3) There is plenty I don't know about Poverty, Race, and Class and that sort of learning doesn't happen in books.

At the end of the class session, he was asking each of us why we were in that class. I did not give reasons 1 and 2 listed above as part of my answer. I did, however, give reason number 3. The professor asked what I wanted and I responded that I didn't know beyond that I want to love people. He then clarified that this was my second semester of my first year. Then he called me out hard core in front of the nine other students in class-

"You cannot use your age or where you come from as a crutch anymore"

I wasn't really aware that I had been doing this. I think that is more often the case with psychological crutches than not. In that moment I wasn't sure if I should be embarrassed, offended, or rebuked. (I'm sure other emotions where going on too but I can't recall) I responded to him with a joke, my old fall back, and then he moved on to another student. But I've been thinking about what he said. I don't quite know what to do with it. I don't know that I make excuses for myself based on my demographic but maybe I do and I haven't even noticed. If so, that's really obnoxious and weak. Maybe my professor is completely off base and it was totally inappropriate for him to call me out like that in front of my colleagues. The answer might be "both/and" rather than "either/or".

*digressionary: the act/characteristic of digressing from the main point every time one speaks for longer than 30 seconds. (Yes, I made this up. Call the OED, I think it's a winner)

**I had this professor for 14 weeks last semester. I still don't know what he is saying or what he wants from his students 80% of the time.

Tuesday

2010-01-19T17:46:00.004-06:00

My day started like this:

My day ended like this:

Nannying is the BEST BIRTH CONTROL EVER

Calm Before the Storm

2010-01-18T16:55:00.003-06:00

The last week and a half I have not had a whole lot on my plate. I was going to move into a new place, but that process has been pushed back until the end of the month. I was going to train for one of my new jobs, but that employer hasn't called me. I'm going to wait and maybe take this as a sign that I don't really need that second job.

So for the last week and a half I've been sporadically packing my things for the move, trying not to pack anything I'm going to need before getting re-settled. This didn't work so hot as I had to go through a packed up box at my new house today to get my notebooks for class later this week. I've been catching up on my favorite tv shows. I've watched several movies. And I sleep. I sleep a lot. I was an insomniac from when I was single-digits old until about age 21. That's a long time without a good night's sleep. Sleeping is one of my top five favorite things to do. If napping were an olympic sport, I would be a gold-metalist.

The only thing about sleeping is that it isn't exactly that productive. I didn't order my books for school until today. I have pants to shorten. My bedroom floor is being colonized by dust bunnies. I did however clean my car, schedule an oil change, and make a chocolate cake.

2010-01-07T07:16:00.005-06:00

I love roller coasters. The best part is when the train is ticking up a giant hill. Once that hill is crested, the train will pick up speed and run through a series of dips and turns that will plaster my hair in unflattering ways and push my stomach into my throat. Throw in screaming and carnival food, and you've got a recipe for a good time.

My next semester is going to be a bit of a roller coaster. Three jobs. New house. 16 credits. New ministry. I'm going to try and fit in some cycling and kickboxing too. I may be biting off more than I can chew but this is intentional. Last semester, I had too much time to sit around and feel lonely. It was not a good situation. I'm hoping that by over-loading my schedule, I'll be forced into discipline and intentionality.

I have a Hungarian friend who believes that the first day of the New Year sets the tone for the whole year. Certain foods and activities are avoided to ensure the right combination for a good and prosperous year. So far I've spent my New Year with people that I love. If the superstitions of the Hungarians are correct, this is going to be a good year.

Plus, I got this new hot haircut. So far 2010 is okay. I'll let you know how I feel in a couple weeks when things really start to unfold.

Semester in Review

2009-12-19T11:23:00.003-06:00

I have completed my first semester of seminary. I don't particularly feel more holy, but then I didn't expect to either. It has been a challenging few months but I can't put my finger on exactly why. I suppose it is a combination of things. I have been blessed so much too since I moved out to Jersey. God keeps stringing me along with these blessings to keep me in seminary I think. I've never doubted my call or that I should be at this seminary right now because of all the good things that have happened to me this semester. I think if I didn't see the fruit of my faithfulness, it would have been much more difficult to be assured about what I'm doing right now.

And yet I'm drained. The move out East was more of an adjustment than I thought it was going to be. I've forgotten how exhausting it is to build a life in a new city. There are the big adjustments like friends, resources, and networks. There are the unconscious adjustments like local culture and weather patterns. Then there are the small and annoying adjustments like finding a decent radio station and not getting a deposit back on soda cans.

My cup is both running over and empty at the same time. My roommate calls this "my cup is tipped over". I like this a lot.

Next semester I'm going to be taking Intro to the New Testament, Church History 2, Intro to Christian Education, Laments, and Poverty, Race, and Class. 16 credits. I will still be nannying, will be starting as a barista, and come under contract as a youth minister. Busy, but staying out of trouble. I think I need to push myself so I don't feel sorry for myself and get too lonely. If I'm in over my head, then I'll make adjustments.

If I don't see you, Merry Christmas. Peace to you and yours.

All I Want for Christmas

2009-12-07T12:54:00.003-06:00

Dear Santa,
I know you don't exist (sorry kids) but I wasn't really sure who to address this letter to. "Baby Jesus" didn't seem appropriate and "Guy at Macy's" didn't feel right either. I guess I'll just go with it. There are several things that I would like for Christmas. I know, I whine a lot and this year hasn't been any exception. The following list is something that I've thought long and hard about. Please take it into consideration. Thanks.

1) World Peace. Seriously, let's just get those international terroists some hugs, give land back to the rightful owners, feed people, and get some nice dictators into power.

2) A cure for AIDs. Education and lifestyle changes are good. Antivirals are good. But a cure would be better. There's got to be a special elf corps that you could task with that, right?

3) Renewable energy. If you could change peoples' minds about wind turbines and convince them that they really aren't that bad, that would be nice. If you could magically make enginers forget how to make SUVs that would be nice too. Let them use that brain energy to make biofuel, hydroelectric plants, and more efficent solar storage cells.

4) A living wage, not just a minimum wage. Too many people are under the poverty line because minimum wage isn't getting the job done. I'm sure you've got some pull with the labor lobby in Washington, do me a solid on this one Santa.

5) Reproductive rights and health for women internationally. This might be a sensitive issue for you Nick, but ask Ms. Claus about it. Too many woman don't have access to the education, medication, contraception, or doctors to keep them healthy. Not to mention how many women don't have a voice when it comes to decisions about their own bodies.

6) Love equality. Let's say on Christmas morning, everyone woke up and believed that people are people no matter who they love. And anyone could get married. Anyone could adopt a child. Anyone could have visitation rights when their spouse is in the hospital. That would be really great. You travel around the world in a single night, so this should be a piece of cake.

7) Better education programs. How about you get your elves to sneakily redirect funds from the Space Program and the paychecks of professional athletes to pay for good buildings, supplies, training, and teachers in order to revitalize the American education system. Just a thought. If you could make the money appear out of no where, that'd be pretty cool too.

8) Less dysfuction in my family. I think I speak for everyone when I say that we need a little peace in our households. Maybe if you didn't eat all the cookies, people would be so hostile around the holidays.

9) A Boxer puppy. A fawn-colored boy-dog named Linus. Or Murphy.

10) No 24-hour marathons of that one really obnoxious Christmas movie. Seriously, haven't we suffered enough?

"And They Will Call Me Preacher"

2009-11-16T20:03:00.003-06:00

The title of this entry comes from one of my housemates. Whenever one of us is acting particularly un-minister like, she usually says "and they will call me preacher". It is a phrase to indicate irony and to remind us as to why we're here.

The reason for this entry is to reflect on some cross-cultural interactions I had this weekend. A friend of mine has a French roommate. He works at the French Embassy in Washington DC. We spent some time together in NYC this past weekend. Along with him were three other French people who currently work in the US. The usual small talk happened and the question about what I do came up.

Telling folk that I'm studying to be a minister has some minor complications when I'm talking to North Americans. It gets more complicated when talking to the French. "Minister" to them means someone who works for the government. For example, one could be the minister of silly walks, but of course this is only in England. So, to explain my vocation to the French I try "preacher" which returns blank stares. Then I move to "priest", which isn't a great alternative, but one that is easily understood.

Now all the stereotypes associated with "priest" and, because of my gender, "nun" get applied to me. As a direct result, these French folks don't quite know how to react to me. I dress normally. I drink and swear. I dance. I have tattoos and a nose ring. I talk about things other than Christian-y things. I shirk off just about every stereotype as soon as it is applied.

I think I like this complication, this contradiction of the assumption and the actuality. I believe it is biblically sound not to "clean myself up" for doing Kingdom work. Why should I get legalistic about what a minister should look and sound like? Sure, there is a level of appropriateness that I maintain. I don't swear in church or tell drinking stories to the little old ladies. But I am who I be- created and beloved by God, body art, sailor's mouth, scars, blue jeans and all.

Cheerleader!

2009-11-07T13:56:00.003-06:00

Who's that rockin' out seminary student? It's me! It's me!

Three* jobs: I nanny about 20 hours a week. I work at the library 5 hours on Monday. As of today, I tutor my neighbor's son in English as part of his SAT prep. My neighbor is also one of the theology professors at school.

The kid I tutor, well, I guess I should say "young man", is 1.5 or maybe second generation Korean-American. English is his second language but I don't detect an accent. He is very bright, a little shy, and wants to go to film school. The plan is for me to help him get ready for the SATs for a couple hours every Saturday. I have never tutored anyone before, not in a formal sense like this. I didn't really know what to do, so I just winged it, which usually works out for me. (but when it doesn't work out for me, then I crash and burn so bad)

My strategy was to get a sense of where he was at in terms of skill and anxiety. His skill is very high. But the problem is, so is his anxiety. Being a non-native speaker is a double-edged sword in his situation. He knows the grammar rules more formally than a native speaker but he is less proficient in quick reading. The SATs are timed. Today, I got to know my young scholar a bit. We did some drills and I made him justify his answers which were almost all correct. I gave him a grammar handbook and told him to use it in his everyday assignments when he was unsure. I was going to introduce him to Strunk and White's Elements of Style but he already had the book. I emphasised its importance by telling him that I stole my copy from my high school.

Most of all, I encouraged him. If this guy goes into that test not being confident in his skills, he will tank. This made me re-realize that I opportate much the same way. I know that I've got ministry skills, I've seen and heard good things happen because of my involvement. Classic seminarian interjection: not me, of course, but God working through me. This is an important clarification both for my personal theology and for my Dutch modesty (we wouldn't want any hubris). But when I lose confidence in myself, that is when I tank. Not in my ministry right away, but personally and spiritually. So I'm working on taking a compliment and construtive criticsm. I'm also keeping a running tally of my A's (8, papers and quizzes combined) and trying to remember all the wonderful things my church folk tell me. And I'm trying to be an encouraging person because around this place (seminary, New Jersey, life in general) we need all the encouragement we can get.

*These are the paid jobs that I do. I'm also the nursery attendant 1st and 3rd Sundays at my chruch and do the children's sermon 2nd and 4th. The nursery thing would be paid, but when I took the job, God told me not to let them pay me. Which sucks. Hopefully next semester I won't be in the library or the nursey and tutoring will be sparce if at all. Then I can just nanny and move into the youth minister position at church. And I'll still be a full-time student. So, still over committed, just not as much.

We Don't Need No Hateration

2009-11-03T13:38:00.006-06:00

This post has been a long time coming. On October 28, at 8:30 am, the Westboro Baptist Church came to spread their hate in front of my neighbors' house. Who is the Westboro Baptist Church and what did my neighbors do in order to deserve a dozen hateful picketers outside their home on a Wednesday morning?

WBC representives outside the Hillel House on Oct. 28. Picture by Kendra VanHouten

The Wesboro Baptist Church (WBC), as defined by Wikipedia (which is as good as any source for our purposes) is a "group is known for its protest activities, including those which are anti-gay, and the provocative signs its members carry during these protests.WBC is not affiliated with any known Baptist conventions or associations. The church describes itself as following Primitive Baptist and Calvinist principles, though mainstream Primitive Baptists reject Westboro Baptist Church and Phelps [their founder], regarding them as unaffiliated to the Primitive Baptists."

Here are a few places they've decided to spread their messages: The funeral of Matthew Shepherd, a young man beaten and murdered for being gay. The airport where bodies of fallen soldiers arrive to their families. And, on the case of Oct. 28, the Hillel House which is the Jewish Community Center for Rutgers University.

Why all the hate, and in the name of the Christian religion no less? From what I understand is that theirs is a God of supreme judgement. Dead soliders are punishment for perversion. The attacks of September 11 are a thing to be greatful for because God is raining down God's wrath for the American people going astray by their Catholic/Gay/Jewish/non-WBC lifestyles.

The mission statement from the WBC homepage (www.godhatesfags.com):

Since 1955, Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) has taken forth the precious from the vile, and so is as the mouth of God (Jer. 15:19). In 1991, WBC took her ministry to the streets, conducting 41,226 peaceful demonstrations (to date) opposing the fag lifestyle of soul-damning, nation-destroying filth. In response, america bombed WBC; & burned WBC on 8-2-2008. God is america's enemy: 5,200 dead soldiers; $11 trillion+ in national debt.

America crossed the line on June 26, 2003, when the Supreme Court (the conscience of the nation) ruled in Lawrence v. Texas that we must respect sodomy. WBC believes her gospel message to be this world's last hope.

On this website, under the heading "Love Crusades" I can view the latest picket schedual. Seriously, "Love Crusades"? With signs with messages like "Toe Tags", "Thank God for Dead Soliders", "God Sent the Shooter", "Your Pastor is a Whore", and "You're Going to Hell" I think maybe you can understand why I'm a little confused about these so-called "Love Crusades". If your interest is peaked, you can watch a movie about the scriptual significance of anyone of these signs or the others on the WBC website by following this link. I haven't watch any myself because I don't think my stomach is strong enough.

So what do we do about this group? These are, biblically speaking, our brothers and sisters in the Lord. They are people created in the image of God. Granted, I'd like to think this image has gotten severly distorted by hate, but the templet is still there. How do we respond to this group? Do we fight fire with fire and make our own signs for our children to carry? Do we sit on the sidewalks in front of them and sing out every hymn we can think of that proclaims the unconditional love of God? Do we ignore them, roll our eyes, and sleep well in the knowledge that this group is widely seen as a minority, extremist, and essentially urban terrorists by the greater population? For an example of this last point, check out this video from youtube posted three years ago of a WBC representative and Fox News embeded at the end of this post.

As a seminarian these are questions that will impact my ministry. As Christians, these are questions that directly effect our interactions with the non-believeing community. The WBC is a very loud and flashy voice for God's people. However, this is not the message that most of God's people want to send. I'm torn between getting vocal and drownding out the hate versus getting quiet and doing ministry one-on-one in order to be clear about what the catholic* message of God really is. Surely there are other options here, but these are the two that come to my mind. Again, this is something I'm working out for myself and again, I'd love to hear what you're reactions are.

*Notice the little 'c' of 'catholic'. I do not mean to disinclude Judaism, Islam, and the denominations therein that advocate a loving, accepting, gracious God

Discuss

2009-10-21T14:46:00.002-05:00

ethnicity [(eth-nis-uh-tee)]
Identity with or membership in a particular racial, national, or cultural group and observance of that group's customs, beliefs, and language.

religion [ri-lij-uhn] (definition #2)
a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects: the Christian religion; the Buddhist religion.

Definitions from dictionary.com

In my Old Testament class we talked about how there is a debate about whether Judaism is a religion or an ethnicity or both. I'm wondering if the same dilemma applies to Christianity as well. Maybe this doesn't work with worldwide Christianity, but if I look at the Christian culture of West Michigan (where I was raised) I think this theory holds up.

My hometown has been called "whitetopia" by one of my professors. I personally think of it as the Michigan WASP epicenter. The protastants who live in West Michigan are largely homogeneous; European American, primarially Dutch, Polish, Swedish, German and English. Everyone in this group speaks English. It is common to find the same traditions and moral codes practiced by this group. For example: Celebrating a large meal on Sunday afternoon after church. Wednesday night is church night. Politness to strangers. Standard English with correct grammar. Passive agression. Defensive driving. Republican. The list of ethnic traits could continue. Religiously, this group is Protestant. Luthuran, Baptist, Reformed, Christian Reformed, Non-Denominational, and Wesleyian are the major branches of Protestantism represented. The details and creeds of these branches my vary, but the basic and major tennants of the faith are the same.

Given everything that can be said about my hometown, and chances are if you're reading this you're familar with where I (we) grew up, am I ethnically a Christian? Even if I became a complete athiest, the lifestyle and culture of the Christian community would still be deeply embedded in me. I would probably still practice many of the customs I grew up with, just minus the overt religious undertones. Although there are several things about me that are in direct contrast to the prodominate culture of West Michigan, I still consider myself a product of my upbringing, for better or worse.

So, whadda think?

2009-10-18T10:14:00.005-05:00

This weekend was my first visit "home" since moving out East. I love Michigan in the fall- the colors and the weather. This weekend was no exception. Sure, it was cold and the colors are slightly past peak, but I soaked it all in the best I could.

My time was spent with friends, alone, and with my family. As much as I love the people in my life, I think I enjoyed my time alone the most. There aren't great coffee shops where I live and I really miss just holing up somewhere and being ridiculously productive. Also, I spend so much time alone in Jersey, maybe I'm forgetting how to socialize. Or at least how to enjoy doing it.

This place: the landscapes, highways, trees, coffee houses, bars, homes are all a part of me. But it isn't home anymore. Jersey isn't home either. I am homeless, a ship without a port, a stranger in my own land. In Church History, we discussed how in Pre-Constantine Christianity, the situation was much the same for believers. I'm trying to find solitude in my loneliness. I haven't succeeded yet. I have uprooted myself from one place without preparing the ground for planting in another. It is difficult to grow without roots.

I don't cry anymore. I haven't since I said goodbye to my best friend in late August. This troubles me a little bit. Maybe it's the medication. Maybe I'm past crying. Maybe it is a defense against allowing myself to be too sad about my new life of unfamiliarness. I don't rightly know what the reason is.

Now my car is packed with seasonable clothes, kitchen utentiles, Michigan apple cider, and New Holland beer. I'm just waiting for the time to pass before I can take to the road again. I think the movie "Garden State" said it right when we're [20-somethings] are all missing a place [home] that doesn't exist.

The picture at the start of this post is a t-shirt from the folks at Michigan Awesome. I have this shirt in red and I love it. Learn more about this company and their sweet products at their website: http://michiganawesome.myshopify.com/

Miracles

2009-10-14T07:25:00.003-05:00

A local minister at the library needed to pay for her copies. The only change she had was 3 dimes and the cost of her copies was 30 cents. Her astonishment at having the exact change was expressed by saying, "This is a miracle".

In pastoral care we're learning about different approaches to take in counseling. One of these methods is the Solution Focus Method. A tool in this method is "the miracle question" where one asks the counselee "What if a miracle happened in your sleep that fixed your current problem? You wouldn't know it happened, because you were asleep. But how would things be different when you woke up? What would your relationships look like, etc"

The movie "Miracle" is about the amazing story of how the underdog U.S. hockey team beat the Russians in the Olympics some decades ago.

(When a man and a woman love each other very much....) The instance of conception and pregnancy in general is often referred to as "the miracle of life".

Jesus, the apostles, and the saints performed signs, wonders, and miracles.

So what exactly is a miracle?

The Last 24 Hours of My Life

2009-10-08T07:49:00.003-05:00

BACKGROUND
The woman I babysit for gave my name to her friends in Rocky Hill. This is a town about 30 minutes away. One of these friends gave my name to her church who is looking for someone to do nursery for them. I went to the service last Sunday and met the congregation. Pastor Linda contacted me and set up a meeting, which we had yesterday.

THE DAY
10:30- Meet Pastor Linda for breakfast. We talked about my background and what I'm interested in. She practically offered me the youth group leader position at church. I'm praying about it. But the best part is that she called me "a gift from out of the blue". That's right, I'm a gift.

12:00-Babysit. The kid took a long nap and I got my paper done for class today.

5:30-On my way home, my car overheats. Repeatedly. And the power steering goes out.

7:00-Talk to Emma (niece) on the phone

8:45-Get to class after calling a tow truck, getting to the body shop, and my roommate picking me up

10:00-Done with class

11:00-Get asked to dinner by the cute boy in my classes

9:00 AM TODAY
Talked to my mechanic back home and he says that it sounds like the power steering belt broke or slipped and shouldn't cost too much. I was thinking it was going to be the water pump which would be about $arm+leg.

She Works Hard for the Money

2009-10-04T22:16:00.011-05:00

Okay, so I don't actually ever work hard at the library. But it is a pretty sweet place to kick back for a few hours every week on the clock. Here are some pictures. If a seminary library could be sexy, then the Garner A. Sage Library totally is.

This is the main reading room. I turn off the the table lamps and make sure the chairs are pushed in. I might even pick up the occasional stray book for shelving.

There are alcoves lining the sides of the reading room, sort of like a cathedral. You can sort of see a step ladder at the back of that alcove. I need to make sure that all the step ladders are put away like that every night.

Someone thought that it would be cool to make the reading room an art gallery too. So there are a few random statues and the upper floor is decorated with the portraits of dead white guys who are important in the school's history. See above picture.

The man himself, Garner A. Sage. What a great name to have for a man and a library. "Where you goin'?" "Oh, just to the Sage". Makes one sound real smart.

The tile floor is one of my favorite parts of the reading room. The books are a slightly more favored, but only slightly.

This place is so classy that even the door knob to the bathroom is awesome.

This is the main circulation desk. The only entrance to the library is on the right. I hang out here and do my homework until someone comes in needing the copy card or to check out something on reserve. Rarely do I check something out from the main collection. Monday nights are pretty slow. Which I love.

This is behind me as I sit at the desk. To the right and left are banks of computers surrounded by the reference section on the right and the current periodicals on the left. In the foreground of this picture are the stairs leading to the basement. It isn't that exciting. Check out that card catalog. So glad I learned how to use one of those. (sarcasm)

This is the mug from which I drink all the instant coffee I can stomach. I guess I could switch to tea, but there is something about instant coffee that is so novel to me. Yes, it is horrible and no one should drink it unless they are backpacking, but seriously, "instant" coffee? Those two words together make me really excited.

Now, some people think that it is creepy closing the library alone at night. Sure, the ceilings are high. The shadows are deep. The boiler makes weird sounds. The books have that lovely old smell that becomes "ode d' horror movie" after the lights are off. People often get the feeling that they've been to the Sage even if it is their first visit there. I think it is the church-style architecture. My friend Marie thinks it's because the Sage has some crazy energy. I never really got nervous about being there at night until someone mentioned that I should be creeped out. Thanks for that.

Best Job Ever

2009-09-23T22:50:00.003-05:00

I am a babysitter. This is ironic for several reasons. 1) I've never been a babysitter for any length of time. I didn't do it in high school. The most contact I've had with little kids have been my nephew and niece. 2) I don't want kids. I really don't. In fact, I think of my womb as a hostile environment. However, I'm good with kids. Really good. I'm not telling you this to brag, but just to help you understand why I sought out this job.

The little girl that I babysit is 2 years old. Her parents are Jewish, I guess which makes her Jewish. She's very imaginative and decisive. We go to the park in the wagon. We go to the library in the wagon. We play up in the attic and when she fake burns her finger on the fake stove I fake run it under cold water at the fake kitchen sink so her finger will fake feel better. I read her books and put her down for a nap. We share snacks. She squeaks when she's happy and squeals when she's excited. At the playground she says "Don't get me" which means "Come get me". I love her already and we've only hung out for three afternoons.

What is great about this job is that 1) I get to spend time with a child when I live in a world of adults. 2) I miss my niece who is 2 years old and the girl I babysit is a nice proxy. 3) I'm still working with kids which is what I've been doing for the last few years so it makes me feel like I'm doing something "old" in a world of "new" things.

Martyrs are Crazy

2009-09-21T22:41:00.003-05:00

And I mean that in a good way.

I'm reading for my church history class about the Christian martyrs in the 2nd and 3rd century. The accounts of these people are spectacular. I don't mean in a motocross sort of way but rather in an awe struck sort of way. There are stories of people who while being questioned about their name, origin, citizenship, etc would only shout "I am a Christian". These people would be beaten to death. There are others who would refuse to swear to pagan gods and as punishment get "red hot plates of iron applied to the most tender parts of the body". Repeatedly. For two days straight. There is this story of a woman who was forced to sit in the "roasting chair" (think of a wood stove), underwent imprisonment (think crowded and filthy and no food), and finally killed when she was put in a net, thrown in front of a bull and her body tossed. And the whole time she was "boldly confessing the name of Christ".

No wonder these people are saints.

I would go underground if martyring came into fashion again. But these early Christians wouldn't be silenced. If anything, the faith grew loud and proud as the persecution continued. I don't think people were looking for trouble and plenty did deny the faith (which caused some trouble in the church when they wanted to come back) but there are many accounts of people looking forward to martyrdom. It was the highest honor to be killed for the faith.

Hmmm, who does that sound like? Ah yes, Muslim extremists. Now, before you get up in arms, I recognize that this is an apples and oranges comparison. Or maybe even an apple and cardboard box comparison. But boiled down, people are dying for their faith in both situations. Interesting how perspective and motive change everything.

Passionate faith makes people do crazy things. Dangerous things. Hateful things (think Medieval Crusades). But maybe Christians today need a little crazy. I'm thinking of activists like Shane Claiborne. He's crazy (read "The Irresistible Revolution" or "Jesus for President" or both). I'm thinking about my friends in the Peace Corps. I'm thinking about my church in GR and their intentional ministry. I'm thinking about Camp Tall Turf. People and places that practice crazy love because they are Christians. People who risk their savings, personal health, reputation, comfort zones, and societal norms in order to bring the Kingdom. It really is crazy. It may not be "roasting seat" crazy, but within the context of American culture, I argue that it's as close as we're going to get right now.

I'm not crazy in a neo-martyr sort of way yet. But I'm passionate, so they's a possiblity that someday I will be.

Learning How to be Helpless

2009-09-20T11:52:00.003-05:00

A friend of mine had a bit of a family crisis. She isn't living at home anymore but happened to be visiting when the event happened. And now she's on her way back to where she just moved to- broken, frustrated, and very sad.

I'm her friend. I want to be there for her to hug her and buy her coffee or tequilla and just sit and listen and cry. But I can't be there. I would be a distraction and ultimately more hurt then help I think. I feel very helpless. I know that my wanting to be with her would make me feel like a better friend and I see how selfish this is. What she needs right now is not for me to drop everything and rush to her side but rather to pray, to listen, and to wait.

This is not easy for me. I've always been a person who wants to rescue. I get this from my mother who has supported me, probably more than she should, for my whole adult life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, just recognizing that this feeling like I need to help comes naturally. Whenever I feel like this- frustrated and helpless when someone I love is hurting- I go back to the one place that always holds wisdom for me.

The Beatles. (you so thought I was going to name a book of the Bible)
When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be

Let it be. Sometimes that is the answer. I need to learn when to just drop my hands, all the stuff I'm trying to hold on to, and just let it be. Being helpless is not recognizing my own shortcomings and weakness. It is accepting God's grace and power over situations that I can't control. There is nothing wrong with me and there is everything right with God. In Jeremiah 1 (now the Bible reference, you knew it was coming) God says to the young prophet "Do not be afraid, I am with you and will rescue you". God doesn't tell Jeremiah that someone else will rescue him or that God will give him something to rescue himself. No. God will do the work of rescuing, thank you very much. And when the creator of the universe (think for a moment about the significance of that) takes interest in my broken heart and my friend's broken family, all I can do is let it be.

Working in the Library

2009-09-19T18:44:00.002-05:00

It is a very meager job, working in the library here at the seminary. However, if a seminary library could be sexy, ours is. The main reading room is floored with lovely and intricate tan and maroon tiles. There are high ceilings, book alcoves, painted portraits, statues, stained glass and natural light. I'll put pictures up next time I take my camera to work. Which will be my first time taking my camera to work.

My job is to check in and out books. I re-shelve the reference section. I turn off lights, copy machines, and computers. I issue library cards and direct people to the books they want. I'm friendly and charming.

Today was interesting for several reasons-
1) I picked up the Saturday shift which means that I opened and closed and was the only person working for the six hours the library was open.
2) I was given the task of measuring shelves and how much space the books on the shelves take up. I did this for two hours because going up and down the step ladder made me dizzy.
3) I had a 20 minute conversation with a RCA canidate from New York about the RCA and CRC. He has only been in the RCA for a couple years. It was a really good conversation.
4) I made instant coffee for the first time while not backpacking. But the best part was the mug. It had a cartoon of Moses holding up two stone tablets with a list of single words on each. The caption was "The Ten Condiments". How fitting for a seminary library kitchen. I'll have to get a photo of that one too.

A Word On: First Impressions of the Garden State

2009-08-25T20:11:00.003-05:00

I moved to New Jersey from Michigan about a week ago. I haven't really done much since I've been here. But I have been busy gathering first impressions.

-For being called the 'Garden State' the produce is oddly expensive.
-It feels strange tossing soda bottles into the regular recycling. It feels like throwing away 10 cents.
-Driving here is crazy. I hate it.
-I am no longer allowed to pump my own gas. I've never had someone else do it.
-I feel rude not making eye-contact and nodding at strangers passing on the street. I know that if I do this here I will be perceived as a complete weirdo.
-NYC is simply "The City" and there are no beaches here only "The Shore".
-New York and Jersey accents are novel to me.
-I'm glad that "soda" and "sneakers" are already a part of my vocabulary.
-I need to re-learn how to be a pedestrian.
-I have to wear my bluetooth headset every time I drive (I should anyway) because they take their 'no cell phones while driving' law very seriously.
-Sometimes Michigan licenses plates are an advantage, sometimes they are not.

Poem: Beach on a January Night II

2009-05-16T12:22:00.003-05:00

There once was a time when this was enough.
The cold night sand, damp at the water’s edge, caressing our feet. Waves lazily, rhythmically washing over, up to our ankles, our shins.
And always the sky. Clear, crisp, blackest.
The most stars any of us had seen then.
All of it a mosaic laid out
Somewhere between dizzying and pacifying.
We would stand in the lake surf staring out at the black water, turned silver/purple
in the moonlight. Silent.

The water’s constant lull and wind would wipe words from our lips anyway.
But with the beach spread out before us, what else could we say?

A Word On: Memoirs

2009-04-14T08:28:00.004-05:00

Warning: Rant

I have come to the conclusion that I will never be a writer of any fame or standing, expect to my closest friends who would still think my writing is profound and beautiful even if I write the word "fart" fifty times on the back of a Walmart recite. These are very loyal friends. I suggest that everyone has some in their life.

The hot new genera that everyone seems to be reading these days is the memoir. As I'm going along, I can't help but think I want to write a memoir! I am a unique person who has overcome unique challenges and (I'm often told but very rarely believe except when it comes to this particular train of thought) I am hilarious! However, my memoir would never get published because 1) the publishing market is flooded with people who think exactly the same thing as I do about themselves, 2) some of these will get published and have the same effect on the reading world as mine would, which is 3) a lovely bound edition of very stiff, rough toilet paper.

My childhood was boring. I had a difficult father, but not difficult enough. We didn't go on vacation or even the beach. Our house was not filled with music, culture, drugs, cats, squalor, or refinement. My brother and I did not go on adventures in our neighborhood and of our imagination. Nor was he my enemy, we just simply regarded each other as people who lived in the same house. My mother was a person of books, but only if romance novels could be called 'books'. I remember us folding socks while watching soap operas in the brief time I wasn't in day care or school while she worked full time. My father was equally a fan of the television. I will ever equate my early memories of him with the scent of Verners ginger ale and the opening theme from Magnam: P.I. These are not the things of good memoir writing or even good therapy sessions. They merely are the uninteresting details of growing up, a latchkey kid and unapologetic WASP, in West Michigan.

My adolescence was typical. Think Odd Girl Out, only since I went to a Christian school, less extreme (or more extreme, depending on how you look at it). My college education was extremely un-writerly considering that I actually graduated (Anne LaMott is a college drop-out). My young adult life has been marked with transitions under the vague and familiar categories as: faith, race, sexuality, mental illness, authority, vocation, relationships, and summer camp. In the literary world, none of these stones has been left unturned.

Besides, there are women who totally have the corner on this memoir thing:
Anne LaMott: funny, thoughtful, Christian, former addict, mother, liberal, Californian
Haven Kimmel: witty, quirky, dysfunctional, with a childhood better than fiction
Mary Karr: a poet and memoirist, former alcoholic, mystic, with a crazy mother and wicked tongue
Elizabeth Gilmore: honest, raw, spiritual worldly, hilarious and heartbreaking, works in dives in order to write about the experience.
(I'm currently reading Eat, Pray, Love which prompted this whole rant. Columbia pictures has the rights to this and are optioning the film to Julia Roberts. I sort of hate Gilmore.) (the movie Coyote Ugly is based on her written accounts as a bar tender. I really hate Gilmore.)

A future in memoir writing is clearly out of the picture. Now, if I could only get into grad school, then we might have something resembling a future with actual direction.

A Word On: Living in the Present

2009-02-15T18:30:00.002-06:00

I've joined a small group of members of my church. This came after mentioning to someone that I while I feel welcomed and at home at church, I don't really feel like I'm building that many relationships. I was immediately invited (rather strongly) to join this group. We're currently reading and discussing the book "The Shack". Tonight's discussion touched on a conversation between the main character and Jesus about how we were designed to live in the present but we rarely do.

Living in the present is definitely a discipline. We live in the age of multitasking and working toward the next thing. Right now I'm juggling a full-time job, ten hours of volunteer work, seminary applications, social engagements, hobbies, building relationships, and all the little details that make up this new adult life. All of the things I am involved in are a means to an end. Whether it is a pay check, an obligation, a sense of accomplishment, or the good feeling of time spent with friends- it seems that nothing I do is for the joy of doing it. I rarely feel immersed in a moment. During conversations, my mind wanders. At work, I keep checking the clock and anticipate the next class or the next weekend. While reading a book, there is a part of me that is frustrated in the turning of pages and wanting to finish the story in order to move on to the next one.

When I was a child, I lived in the joy in every moment I think. I could relish in an afternoon filled with sunshine, sandbox, and stuffed animals. Where did this joy go? Did the responsiblities of becoming older take its place? How do I get back the ability to live in the present? How do I become intentional about listening and being? With all the plans that I'm making and what to make, what can keep me grounded in the the now?

I'll take any suggestion that you, my one or two readers, might suggest. But for now I'll leave you with a poem about an especially good moment. This is a piece about my last night at camp this past summer. It was beautiful and this poem does not do it justice.

evening comes to lake campbell

lily pads patchworked
over the vegetated lake
some with tiny buds—
fists raised in triumph
escaped from the water.
others with white petal fingers—
spread wide to worship the setting sun.
their fragrant praise fills the dusk
and nocturnal toad song.

all is still.

all is still as the light fades
into constellation and firefly spark.

for He founded it upon the seas
and established it upon the waters.

Poem: spots and stars

2009-02-02T16:23:00.000-06:00

the old man wears his
white hair and liver spots
with pride—
like one would display scars
and stars pinned to a military chest.

and maybe age is a victory
in a war fought on my fronts
against all enemies
sneaky, personal, public, unseen.

as each travels through this life—
this series of events and battles—
erratic as shrapnel or exact as sniper

all seek the comrade and foxhole
the honor and the glory.

A Word On: Fasting

2009-01-24T12:08:00.002-06:00

I recently read that the early church (think 4th century) practiced fasting regularly. These Christian would fast by abstaining from meat, dairy, eggs, and alcohol. So basically, they would go vegan and not drink. They did this two days a week: on Wednesdays because that was the day that Judas took silver for betraying Jesus and on Friday because that was the day Jesus hung on the cross. During the season of Lent (the 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter), the early Christians would conduct this fast 7 days a week.

Fasting is one of the foundational spiritual disciplines of the Christian faith. Even though food nourishes the body, fasting is still considered a spiritual discipline because the restraint it takes for one to fast comes from the spirit. The purpose of a fast is to keep the body and desires in check. There are so many things in this world that can distract from the faithful following of the Lord. Fasting gives the opportunity to simplify one's diet and to bring their attention away from the profane and into the holy.

The modern church looks very differently on fasting. The first assumption is that fasting means to go without food or consume only liquids (water, broth, clear juice) for a certain amount of time; usually a 24 day. There is a popular fundraiser for poverty called The 30 Hour Famine where teens will take pledges and fast for 30 hours to raise money for those who live in continued malnutrition. During the season of Lent, it has become a custom by some to give up a luxury in order to better think on the person and sacrifice of Christ. I've known people to give up Facebook, drinking alcohol, eating meat, chocolate, or kissing for the whole 40 days. The idea is that when the thing you've given up is desired you instead think on all the bigger and tougher things that Jesus gave up for you.

I think I'm going to try the Wednesday/Friday fast by eating as close to vegan as I can on those days. I'm not going to add any new devotional disciplines to my life to see if simply restraining my diet two days a week will make me feel any difference in my spirituality.