lime and licorice

Tea, the Universe, and Everything.

2008-04-16T22:55:00.005-05:00

Earlier today certain friends and I were sitting around talking about the proper way to accomplish proper tea. It reminded me of this short essay by Douglas Adams who wrote concerning life, the universe, and everything. I may not agree with him on most things, but I enjoy him immensely and I certainly agree with him on the topic of tea. You can find the essay from The Salmon of Doubt here, along with an animated visual apologia for the proper way to add milk to one's tea. Go and watch it. For now, enjoy your tea properly.

One or two Americans have asked me why it is that the English like tea so much, which never seems to them to be a very good drink. To understand, you have to know how to make it properly.
There is a very simple principle to the making of tea and it's this - to get the proper flavour of tea, the water has to be boiling (not boiled) when it hits the tea leaves. If it's merely hot then the tea will be insipid. That's why we English have these odd rituals, such as warming the teapot first (so as not to cause the boiling water to cool down too fast as it hits the pot). And that's why the American habit of bringing a teacup, a tea bag and a pot of hot water to the table is merely the perfect way of making a thin, pale, watery cup of tea that nobody in their right mind would want to drink. The Americans are all mystified about why the English make such a big thing out of tea because most Americans have never had a good cup of tea. That's why they don't understand. In fact the truth of the matter is that most English people don't know how to make tea any more either, and most people drink cheap instant coffee instead, which is a pity, and gives Americans the impression that the English are just generally clueless about hot stimulants.
So the best advice I can give to an American arriving in England is this. Go to Marks and Spencer and buy a packet of Earl Grey tea. Go back to where you're staying and boil a kettle of water. While it is coming to the boil, open the sealed packet and sniff. Careful - you may feel a bit dizzy, but this is in fact perfectly legal. When the kettle has boiled, pour a little of it into a tea pot, swirl it around and tip it out again. Put a couple (or three, depending on the size of the pot) of tea bags into the pot (If I was really trying to lead you into the paths of righteousness I would tell you to use free leaves rather than bags, but let's just take this in easy stages). Bring the kettle back up to the boil, and then pour the boiling water as quickly as you can into the pot. Let it stand for two or three minutes, and then pour it into a cup. Some people will tell you that you shouldn't have milk with Earl Grey, just a slice of lemon. Screw them. I like it with milk. If you think you will like it with milk then it's probably best to put some milk into the bottom of the cup before you pour in the tea.¹ If you pour milk into a cup of hot tea you will scald the milk. If you think you will prefer it with a slice of lemon then, well, add a slice of lemon.
Drink it. After a few moments you will begin to think that the place you've come to isn't maybe quite so strange and crazy after all.
¹ This is socially incorrect. The socially correct way of pouring tea is to put the milk in after the tea. Social correctness has traditionally had nothing whatever to do with reason, logic or physics. In fact, in England it is generally considered socially incorrect to know stuff or think about things. It's worth bearing this in mind when visiting.

"There's something stuck in your teeth" and other reasons why we need the Church

2008-03-11T22:02:00.006-05:00

Other reasons include, "you're being an idiot"' and "you're being mean" and various other adaptations of the same theme. But ultimately, we need people in our lives who tell us things that are not comfortable, who will tell us things we will not like, who will tell us the truth, and who will love us while doing it.

That's what I've learned today. Churches aren't just buildings we show up to Sunday morning, they are buildings that happen to hold people who hopefully love us well enough and know us well enough to show us things about ourselves that aren't pretty in order to show us our true beauty.

I have had my share of hurts in churches, I'm still not even sure if I'm in the right place or have made right decisions. But this I do know: I know that the church extends beyond brick and mortar. The church is made up of people who can be pretty darn ugly to each other. But nonetheless people, who if they tough it out, eventually learn to see the beauty of Christ in each other and love one with the deepest of love because it is a love that defies conditions.

I've been doing a lot of thinking on this lately. I'm working on finishing up an ecclesiology (the study of the church) class in addition to other things. I love it when my academic life serves to dig things up in my heart, when the two intersect. Not as much as I'll love having this class off my plate so I can move on to other things, but still life can't be all perfect.

But it is just this lack of perfection that reminds me that the church is not a dead thing, but a living thing. It forces me to remember why I fight for the church, even when it breaks my heart.
So those of you who are in it with me. Thanks. I need you.

Are you sure I don't have anything in my teeth?

A little nerdy.

2008-03-04T19:43:00.006-05:00

I'm sitting in class and Dr. MacKenzie just whipped out some hebrew off the top of his head. Rolled off his tongue. Why am I surprised? I shouldn't be. Of course he speaks hebrew, I've just been in his class for two years now and have never heard him do it.

Now he's quoting Einstein again, from a personal conversation they had, of course.

I started writing this about how lately I've felt myself dress more nerdy and librarian-ish than normal. I think I'm getting tired. Well, at least I realize it. When I start buying nerdy, someone needs to shoot me. Assembling nerdy from pieces that are not inherently nerdy I think can still be forgiven. There is something kind of fun about my green cardigan and reading glasses--with rhinestones of course. Nerdy with style.

Maybe I'm just not making much effort. Maybe I'm enjoying living the grad school stereotype. But seriously, friends, don't let me go too far down this road.

Ryan has told me I need to lighter things once in a while, just to keep things interesting. Does this count?

A good word from an old friend on Christmas

2007-12-26T01:10:00.000-05:00

Maybe one day I'll have something of my own to say. For now, I give you wise words from our old friend Augustine:

The things of earth are not merely good; they are undoubtedly gifts from God. But, of course, if those who get such goods in the city of men are reckless about the better goods of the City of God, in which there is to be the ultimate victory of an eternal, supreme, and untroubled peace, if men so love the goods of earth as to believe that these are the only goods or if they love them more than the goods they know to be better, then the consequence is inevitable; misery and more misery.
~ City of God: Book XV, Ch. 4.

It's quite nice when one's studies bring one to a work of beauty in the midst of chaos:

2007-12-11T00:18:00.000-05:00

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; Bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell; the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs-
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

By Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-89), Oxford.

On conflict and not sleeping.

2007-09-30T20:58:00.000-05:00

Be angry, and yet do not sin; do not the let the sun go down on your anger.

So that thing that Paul said, he's right. I don't know if everyone is like me. But when there is unresolved conflict, there is conflict when it comes to sleep. I've often thought that it comes as a blessing in disguise, God keeping things on a short leash if you will, not letting it get buried. I've spent a lot of years burying thing but a couple of years ago I began to sense this inability to do so anymore.

Paul knew that anger burns a hole in your heart or in my case, my stomach. But then again, the stomach/general gut area was understood to be more the core of the person in Paul's time. And though we pray and fight it and try to maintain the belief that it's a misunderstanding and that there is no real animosity between parties, when there is no communication to confirm such things, it's a constant battle to not allow the hurt to turn into hatred and bitterness. We battle to believe the best, but without actually talking to one another, we too easily turn towards believing the worst.

We fight to curb our passive-aggressive tendencies. But to do so means balancing voicing our hurt so that we move toward one another in a way that will bring life and truth and growth through the pain; not destruction, not a surface assuaging of the anguish that lives underneath. Relationships are dangerous. The great Pat Benetar said it well, “Love is a battlefield.” To maintain them we have to live in truth, not in lies. Live in grace, not in condemnation. Live in a type of love that is willing to sacrifice, to put others first. The type of love that is willing to own one's sin yet isn't afraid to call others out, as well.

It's hard stuff. Dangerous stuff. But when done well, it can change us. And save us. And maybe even let us sleep tonight. I'll let you know how that goes.

I leave off tonight with some lyrics that didn't make much sense to me until I learned that they were about the writer's relationship with his brother. As much as I dislike quoting songs everyone knows (unfortunately I have a bit of the elitist in me, sorry), I do reserve the right for the popular to sometimes be the profound. And tonight, these words finally make sense and feel particularly poignant.

I never knew that everything was falling through
That everyone I knew was waiting on a cue
To turn and run when all I needed was the truth
But that's how it's got to be
It's coming down to nothing more than apathy
I'd rather run the other way than stay and see
The smoke and who's still standing when it clears

Let's rearrange
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage
Just say that we agree and then never change
Soften a bit until we all just get along
But that's disregard
Find another friend and you discard
As you lose the argument in a cable car
Hanging above as the canyon comes between

And suddenly I become a part of your past
I'm becoming the part that don't last
I'm losing you and its effortless

Without a sound we lose sight of the ground
In the throw around
Never thought that you wanted to bring it down
I won't let it go down till we torch it ourselves

And everyone knows I'm in over my head

Mercy on Language

2007-09-21T09:28:00.000-05:00

Lately I find that though I have much to say, I find little desire to write. It's as if it is a welling up time, throwing things into the stew pot which are not yet cooked but one day will be. Until then, a poem introduced to me by my dear friend, Bono.

God's Laughter, by Brendan Kennelly

Someone had mercy on language
changed it into something else I can touch
I can touch
grow to love, murmured Ace
as he heard the stranger talking
of how laughter comes from God.

Who, hearing words from his own mouth
and from others, cannot stop himself
laughing or freezing in terror

at sound bubbling up out of infinite
emptiness? Well fill it up with pride
and let vanity strut along for the ride.

When the ride peters out at the edge
of small daring, then that other sound
opens.

This is the sound of God's laughter,
like nothing on earth, it fills
earth from grave to mountain-top,
lingers there a while, then like a great
bird spreading its wings for home or somewhere
like home,
heads out into silence,
gentle and endless, longing to understand

children, killers of children, killers. Mercy. Silence. Sound.
Mercy. Sound. Word. Sound. Change, there must be
change. There is. Say flesh. Say love. Say dust.
Say laughter. Who will call the fled bird back?
Stand. Kneel. Curse. Pray. Give us this day
our daily laughter. Let it show the way.
Thank God someone has mercy
on the words we find we must say.

It's almost 3am...

2007-09-15T02:00:00.000-05:00

The Sleep

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–61)

OF all the thoughts of God that are

Borne inward into souls afar,

Along the Psalmist’s music deep,

Now tell me if that any is

For gift or grace surpassing this—

“He giveth His beloved, sleep”?

What would we give to our beloved?

The hero’s heart to be unmoved,

The poet’s star-tun’d harp to sweep,

The patriot’s voice to teach and rouse,

The monarch’s crown to light the brows?—

He giveth His beloved, sleep.

What do we give to our beloved?

A little faith all undisproved,

A little dust to overweep,

And bitter memories to make

The whole earth blasted for our sake:

He giveth His beloved, sleep.

“Sleep soft, beloved!” we sometimes say

Who have no tune to charm away

Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep:

But never doleful dream again

Shall break the happy slumber when

He giveth His beloved, sleep.

O earth, so full of dreary noises!

O men, with wailing in your voices!

O delved gold, the wailers heap!

O strife, O curse, that o’er it fall!

God strikes a silence through you all,

And giveth His beloved, sleep.

His dews drop mutely on the hill,

His cloud above it saileth still,

Though on its slope men sow and reap:

More softly than the dew is shed,

Or cloud is floated overhead,

He giveth His beloved, sleep.

We must want it really badly, then.

2007-08-13T19:04:00.000-05:00

This craving for community of worship is the chief misery of every man individually and of all humanity from the beginning of time. For the sake of common worship they've slain each other with the sword.

Fyodor Dostoevsky,
from "The Grand Inquisitor" in The Brothers Karamazov

I found this quote which I wrote down years ago. Tonight I found it again. This craving for community then will drive us to life and relationship or death, madness, and isolation. The human heart's capacity for polar opposites continues to amaze me.

What's and How's

2007-08-02T12:26:00.000-05:00

This post was originally written as a comment on a post of the Blog of the American Chesterton Society. I've edited it just a bit and thought I'd put it in my own blog about why I think Chesterton is a worthy subject of study and why he...well, the rest speaks for itself.

Part of the reason why Chesterton remains relevant almost a century later is just because he didn't only teach what to think. He taught/teaches us how to think about the world, which makes him by far a better teacher.

On the day I originally tried to post, I'd just heard a lecture concerning Tolkien and how he, oddly enough, claimed to not like allegory. We got into this great discussion on the nature of meaning and truth presented in story and whether meaning can be present that the author may never have intended. What came to me was rather Chestertonian: we believe something is true not just because one thing proves it, but because everything proves it.

I'm studying Chaucer this summer, which of course means I'm reading Chesterton on Chaucer. In speaking of the past he says that

“medieval morality was full of the idea that one thing must balance another, that each stood on the side or the other of something that was in the middle, and something that remained in the middle. There might be any amount of movement, but it was the movement round this central thing; perpetually altering the attitudes, but perpetually preserving the balance.”

From a Christian perspective, if something is true, it is true on any level, at any time—whether medieval or modern. It is as if any thing which is true falls within this great system, all moving around this central thing—truth, reality—and like a clock, all the gears clicking into place in order for them to continue keeping time. Which is what led me to want to comment on whether Chesterton teaches the what to think or the how to think. Of course there are things he wrote about that we can be guided by. But I think that from the other side of eternity, he would be more pleased to know that he taught us to think for ourselves—how to apply the principles of this glorious, systematic, ordered, orchestrated universe to the little pieces that we come across every day, seeing how they fit into the dramatic whole.

I was a neo-platonist, part the second

2007-07-25T07:16:00.000-05:00

For all of those who read that posting all those months ago--whenI began to realize the implications that philosophical priorities have impacted the way we live, the way we interact with the world, and the way we view God--here is the second installment.

In my earlier post, gentle reader, I wrote about how I once believed that the material things of this world were of virtually no consequence, being utterly corrupted by the fall. But as time has worn on I began to feel more and more uncomfortable with that understanding of nature.

I've been fascinated by the whole campaign concerning liveEarth, which being absent from the States I've been able to keep up on thanks to MSN. Today I found this article by Phillip Harper which is titled "What Would Jesus Drive?" Beyond the title, which brings up memories of the Christian-Ghetto marketing nightmare that was (and still is), the article is compelling. It does not attempt to give a simplistic answer to the issues of where evangelical Christians stand in regards to care for the environment. Like nothing I've ever read before it acknowledges that there are some very complex issues to be dealt with.

There are some (who are very influential, might I add) who say that Christians should not be concerned about the environment--they say it will divide our attention from the great moral crises of our time. This, I believe, is the impact of that neo-platonic influence I was talking about--"why worry with the material world?? We have souls to think about!" I find it to be short-sighted and one-dimensional in perspective. They seem to think that the world can be changed if they lobby enough on one or two issues. They are throwing all their resources at one symptom of a greater problem--which includes the misuse of the world God has given us in both its material, moral, and spiritual implications.

The first reason I like this article is the fact that Harper gives credence to the aspect of my faith that causes me to care about the environment: stewardship. This world is a precious, precious thing and we are to care for it, and as the article says, "nurture" it. One of the unfortunate byproducts of almost all technology has been to manipulate nature, not to craft nature. I just wrote a paper on Chaucer's Franklin's Tale in which the Franklin juxtaposes the beauty of a garden--nature crafted, shaped, and designed by man; and a magician attempting to manipulate the world by science and illusion for some other purpose. I'm not saying we should only be making flower gardens with technology, but only that our technology should be responsible and pursued with the perspective of the whole in mind.

Another aspect in relation to man's use of environmental resources which the article touches on is the belief that God has given mankind the responsibility of dominion over the world. We are his stewards, the ones he has given charge to as he looks over it. So therefore it is our responsibility to find ways to tame this wild yet beautiful world. We can go back again to the gardens of England and find their beauty being a mixture of art and nature--man's touch upon that which God has made. Things like electricity (which really, I must say is pretty addicting--who wants to live without that??) would never have been possible without people learning how to harness that which provides us with so many other helpful things.

But perhaps my favorite aspect of this piece is that it refuses to ignore the human element in regards to the environment: it does not forget the poor. I feel a little uninformed about the policies that have been discussed for global reform and the implications they might have, but Harper raises some really good points about the immediate moral implications this has upon the world's poorest peoples. They barely have resources as it is--is it right for us to strip away what little they do have when the newer technologies, while better, are not available to them? Should we ask them to wait another 100 years to receive electricity and running water when resources which are based on fossil fuels are available today?

Like I said, I'm not terribly informed when it comes to all of those details, but like some have said when studying Jesus' words: what I don't understand shouldn't scare me as much as what I do understand. And what I do understand, both in what Jesus says and in what the problems are in the world is this: there are people who are dying, physically and spiritually. Our wealth in the world and in is completely disproportionately distributed. I'm not saying I know how to fix it, I'm not sure if anyone does. The complications, details, and repercussions are immense. But it's just nice to know that someone else sees them. The creation and the poor cannot be forgotten. That's what I can understand. And there's enough responsibility to scare me to death as it is.

reason for being non-committal revealed!

2007-07-24T17:03:00.000-05:00

Ok, I know what you're thinking. But I'm not single because I'm non-committal. That's not what this blog is about. This entry is about my recent revelation concerning why I don't like to make plans...unless of course I'm really excited about them.
So here's the big reason: I don't like to be disappointed. That's why I hate making plans.

This all came to me as Rachel and I were planning our attack on London this weekend. We decided that an evening of Shakespeare would be very nice. So I went online and found tickets to the Globe (the original theatre that Shakespeare's plays were performed in, rebuilt and completed in the 1990's) for a great price(the groundlings section). It was easy...too easy. So anyway, I get the confirmation email--which by the way stinks because by the time you get the email it's too late to change it--and realize that I booked them not for this past Sunday, but NEXT Sunday after both Rachel and I individually will have crossed the Atlantic.

So I made plans. They got messed up. No refunds. Wasted money. Not exactly of King Lear proportions, but still sad. Rachel and I did visit the Globe this weekend, just not to see a play. While I was there, I wrestled with whether to buy another ticket for when I was going to be there on Friday night. Did I want to commit myself to that again? What if I was disappointed? But I decided to just do it. I made plans. I looked disappointment in the eye and committed. Should you need a date for Friday night and happen to be in London, I'll be enjoying Love's Labors Lost, hopefully. If I'm not disappointed between now and then.

But then again, isn't life always about taking chances and living with the potential to be disappointed? Since I'm in the UK, I have the need to quote James Joyce: Welcome, Oh Life! I go to encounter for the millioneth time the reality of experience.
Yeah, was that convincing? I'm ready to come home, I think. Five days.

Wishing for Wellies

2007-07-23T08:26:00.000-05:00

Today I sit in a proper English tea room drinking proper (well, almost--it's decaf) Earl Grey Tea (hot). Which we've been said to have had excellent weather during our stay, today has been the first day of rain. I now see why they wear wellies here--big, high often obnoxiously colourful, rubber boots. I haven't worn rubber boots since college. Then we called them duck boots and they weren't particularly feminine. But I did feel like I could take on any puddle and therefore, take on the world. Here I'm wearing my tennis shoes which are nicely vented so that when I'm training for my marathon (yeah, right), my feet stay cool. Well, that doesn't work so well for English rain. So my feet are pretty wet.
But outside, I still think it's lovely. A proper English rainy day while inside of a proper English tea room called a proper English name (The Rose) while drinking proper English tea. Yes, my shoes are wet. As are my socks. And my feet. And my hat. And the bottom half of my pants. But I can still say boldly that it is indeed, a lovely day.

Cheers!

Three Pounds, Fifty Pence None-the-Richer

2007-07-20T11:30:00.000-05:00

I debated on what to title this little installment. I had two or three names all rolling around in my head, all of which having to do with numbers and the ordinary. I've realized this past year or so that I really like numbers. I like their symmetry and the concreteness that they represent. But then I like to tie them to something ordinary yet extraordinary, too. Maybe you'll see more of what I mean in the future.

So today I am three pounds, and fifty pence none-the-richer in Oxford. Another name for this entry was about to be "the $80 run." I guess I could still call it that. So here's the story.

If I don't exercise, my muscles hurt. That's the the short version. It's been a long while since I've really got some good circulation happening--sure I've walked, but not really got the blood moving since I left Orlando 11 days ago. So last night I thought I was being so good and disciplined, heading out the door at 8pm (still quite light in Oxford)to Christ Church Meadow, a beautiful little place with a walk lined with lavender. I had a nice little jog/walk/whatever and was feeling pretty proud of my stamina and also had some creative thoughts for the paper I was working on. I walked out of Christ Church Meadow feeling pretty good about life...that is until I stuck my hands in my pockets and realized what wasn't there--my keys.

So needless to say, I sort of freaked. Long story. Many other walks around the meadow, to the porter's office, to the police station, and back. But they're gone. The hall charges 10 pounds per lost key...there were four on the ring. But sadly as I was taking the fourth and final lap around the meadow before I gave up, I realized as I prayed that God would provide for me financially, even if these keys didn't show up, like I was asking for them to.

It was just about that time that I remembered that I overpaid for my tuition here when I was doing the fund transfer back in May. So they owed me money--43 and a half pounds, in fact. And I owed them 40 pounds. God did provide, with money I'd already counted on not having. So now, at the end of the day, instead of being 40 pounds (about $80) further in the hole, I'm now in possession of 3 pounds and fifty pence...and all the richer for it.

Cheers.

I'm noticing a pattern here...

2007-07-12T16:32:00.001-05:00

...that I only seem to blog when I'm avoiding writing a paper. Today's topic: Chaucer, Wife of Bath. I'm looking forward to writing it. I love my tutor (think more UC Berkley and less Oxford, yet at Oxford) and feel as if I have a lot to say, mostly because I've lived life.
Experience, though no other authority
were in this world, is quite enough for me

...says the Wife. And so I've found it to be true. Then again, my topic will be mostly about marriage, about which I have no experience but years of observation having watched some friends go through hell and back...and some who are not so much back as of yet. So we'll see what pops out the other end of the document. It might just be good.

In other news, as I was walk/jog/running/whatever around Christ Church Meadow today, I lost my keys. Sad. Expensive. So if you think of it, ask Jesus to bring them back for me. He has a habit of bringing things back for me.

So now...onto the paper...

Oxford Blues

2007-07-08T16:22:00.000-05:00

I can't believe it's been nearly two months since I've written. So much has happened, most of which I won't take time to put here except in passing. Basically, it's been a hard couple of months. I've gone from the heights of experiencing an infinite sense of blessedness on this road I'm on to the depths of fear and depression, wondering what on earth I've done.
It's been as if a door has been opened...more of like a can that contained all of the fear of the future I'd been pushing down all year. I think it was just because I've been pushing so hard and am just so tired.

So now I'm at Oxford at the Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies. I have my very own room on the top floor, which I've titled 'The Tower.' I've struggled with loneliness for weeks before I even arrived here and initially feared the feeling of being separated from the others in my program. But part of me now wonders if this tower is exactly what I need this summer. To be lonely but to find Jesus in the midst of it. Maybe that's why I needed to come all the way here to discover.

More on Oxford later. I'm here for three more weeks. Pray that I enjoy my time here and don't obsess too much with counting down the days until I'm back home again in Orlando--which has become more dear to me this year than ever.

Photos to follow, in theory.

A funny thought from Word-a-Day reader:

2007-05-19T10:16:00.000-05:00

From: *****
Subject: Re: A.Word.A.Day--mesmeric
Refer: http://wordsmith.org/words/mesmeric.html

Here's what I've thought about for a long time: If Lord Cardigan had been the gambler and the Earl of Sandwich was desirous of a jersey that buttoned up the front, why we'd all be eating cardigans and wearing sandwiches.

That is a funny thought, isn't it? It once again goes to prove that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Words, names, descriptions: I'm fascinated by it all. And if I can get through this next week of finals I'm going to write a paper concerning the philosophy of language and begin to tackle what communication really is. You know, no big deal. Good thing I don't mind being wrong (see below).

I know, twice in one day--can you believe it? I must have some pretty heavy avoidance tendencies going on...

on being wrong

2007-05-19T09:01:00.000-05:00

I hate being wrong. Well, actually I don't mind it so much, really. But what actually do mind is being wrong...and other people knowing it. Yes, there's the rub. The pride. The pursuit of knowledge is ultimately what I'm after (well, I guess I'm using 'ultimately' in a hyperbolic sense, there are probably other things that are more ultimate, so let's put on the penultimate level, at least). So if penultimately I want knowledge, it holds that if I'm corrected then I'm alright with that, right? True. But what I'm not alright with yet, is others knowing I'm wrong. It's that whole judgment thing, or perception of judgment that I just can't be down with. Maybe I can be all spiritual and say that judgment is a result of sin and that's why I don't like it. But in reality, it's because if I'm judged, I'll think people will think less of me and I just don't like that.

But operating out of my redeemed-self, knowing that which is true about me and about God and my position in him, I have the freedom to be wrong, because to be wrong and to be corrected is to learn and to grow. All my life I have been withheld speaking up in classes and other situations over fear of being found to be more ignorant than I'd like to admit. But in true socratic style, we only learn when we interact with the ideas of others, are challenged, and are pushed closer towards the truth. What ultimately (and I think I mean that this time) makes us look like we are thinkers is the ability and willingness to ask questions and be wrong--to be foolish. So here again, we find another paradox: to be wise, to look wise (and looking in some way that is good or honorable isn't bad as long as it is a true reflection) one must be willing to look foolish, ignorant--to ask what might feel like is a dumb question for the sake of clarity, of understanding, of knowledge, and of truth.

So there are my two cents for the morning as I study for my epistemology exam: Freedom, paradox, and the ability to ask to really dumb questions. Keep reminding me of that, ok? I might forget tomorrow.

A Good Friday.

2007-04-06T22:15:00.000-05:00

Today is Good Friday. I spent the majority of it in the company of a Dutch Theologian trying to grasp the depths of the Covenant of Grace. That was hard work. But as I was somewhat frantically studying, my sister calls. I answer, but tell her I can't really talk even though I haven't talked to either her or my parents for weeks now. When we get off the phone, I suddenly can no longer concentrate and just become overwhelmed with all I have to do and the short time in which I have to do it.

The overwhelmed-ness didn't just come from studying for this particular test, but from the reality of my life for the next few years: Where do I draw the line between what needs to be done for today, what needs to be done for tomorrow, and what needs to be done so I don't get to tomorrow and realize I've missed out not only on everyone else's lives, but my own life too?
So tonight at work, I decided something. I need Sabbath. I need to start taking it seriously. The test I'm currently studying for is Systematic Theology, where we've discussed the importance of Sabbath and the rhythm God laid forth in the very fabric of creation. Labor and then rest. Work and then worship. Our professor told us to try God, test him, believe him that if we give him this honour, he will provide and meet all our needs.

In light of this, I believe it is quite fitting that the holiest of Lord's Days, Easter Sunday, be given as a gift back to God. So off I go. Tomorrow, I shall work and labor and try to cram in as much as I can for this test, believing that God will honor that in my preparation.
Because I know I need rest. God knows I need rest. He offers it. I just have yet to figure out why I'm so loathe to surrender and receive it.

Today we remember the Christ who died because are hopeless law-breakers. Hopeless, except for one hope for which we wait until Sunday.

Easter's coming...

2007-03-14T12:33:00.000-05:00

Often times I wish I had something better to say than I really do. This is one of those seasons where I find this to be true a lot. Sorry for those (all three of you) who are looking for the next great entry of Amy Heck's mind upon the internet.
I read Mel's comment about hope for Easter. And it's around the corner.
I'm observing Lent in my outward life, but am in my inward life? It's rough.
I'm in class now. I should probably get back to listening to the nature of sin. reverse w00t.

Christmas Warm Fuzzies and Christmas Questions

2006-12-25T23:59:00.000-05:00

It's Christmas Night. The presents are opened, the wrapping paper in the trash. We've got about five official minutes left here in Evansville and it'll all be done. By the time I'm done writing this it won't be Christmas anymore.

So what is it? This is the day we celebrate the incarnation of the author of creation into a tiny baby. Then why is it exactly that we expect warm fuzzies? That Christmas-ey feeling? What really is that about, anyway?

All I know is I didn't get it this year. This month flew by not only for me but it seems like for just about everyone else in my life. Everything seemed hurried and rushed. There were some days back in late November, maybe, when we were getting ready for Christmas. But then again I did work up a sweat hanging Christmas lights on my porch in Orlando in 80 degree weather. (That's really more of a plea for pity than to rub it in the noses of my northern friends, you know I'd trade it any day).

I'm not feeling terribly poetic tonight, but indifferent. Indifferent to the holiday. Indifferent to the season. Not terribly experiencing the phenomena of holiness. But is it for me to experience? What part does feeling really play in holidays--Holy days? I have no idea. Just wanted to throw the question out there. "You need questions; forget about the answers," a song says. Maybe the holiness of the Holidays is found just by asking the questions, I don't know. Maybe just asking the question itself is enough to remember that the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.

The clock is ringing midnight. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

currently

2006-11-22T09:29:00.000-05:00

I must say that I really like blogspot. But one of other major things I'm envious of when it comes to other blogs (especially xanga...which I have but don't use) is the "currently..." section. "currently listening;" "currently watching." So I've decided to make my own. Here is my very own currently section.

Currently listening: my itunes random mix. Jason Mraz is currently playing.

Currently watching: nothing, but Beth and Jennie and I are currently watching the entire series of Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode by episode. We've been working on this for about three months and are about 1/3 through the 3rd season. We'll get done one day.

Currently eating: Rice and Shine (a rice cereal similar to cream of wheat) with cinnamon, raisins, and some cream of coconut.

Currently planning: Thanksgiving dinner--I'm covering all of the orange items on our list. This includes pumpkin and sweet potatoes.

Currently doing: laundry

Currently wearing: A lot of clothes. It snowed last night in Florida (almost) and I don't have central heating. The space heater I bough won't be here until the 1st. Who knew I'd need it so soon in the season? Yet it's rather exhilarating.

Currently avoiding: A term paper on the relationship between science and faith.

Currently listening to (update): Sixpence None the Richer, The Waiting Room.

I was a neo-platonist, part the first

2006-09-26T21:54:00.000-05:00

I don't know how much of this I'll write before I get too tried, but I just read Daniela's blog (see side links) and was inspired to write. Of course with a title like that, you'd expect a much longer, explanatory blog than this entry will turn out to be. But it's late and I really should be on my way to bed, so it probably won't be that long. But who knows.

So you're probably wondering about the title. I wanted to give a little snapshot of some of the things I'm learning in seminary and in my whole new life in general. For those of you who may not know, in July I started a whole new chapter in my life by leaving Campus Crusade after 8 years (12 if you count my entire college career) in order to pursue graduate work at Reformed Theological Seminary. I also work at Starbucks. Both are quite an educational experience. One I pay to receive, the other one pays me. It's a pretty decent trade off.

So I was a neo-platonist. That's probably one of the biggest revelations I've had in seminary. That is of course because I'm getting my degree in Philosophy, which I knew I was doing when I told people I was studying "Philosophy and History" but I don't think I really go it until after the first week of classes when I realized that I'm taking 2 Philosophy classes, one big fat Greek class (that counts as two classes) and one little class called "Classics of Personal Devotion" which I must admit I always leave a little emotional from...that's for another night.

So you might be asking now, "why, Amy, were you a neo-platonist, and what is that?" Well, there's lots involved with being a neo-platonist, and I don't know if I was one fully, but on a few levels I conciously or subconsciously subscribed to the belief that matter, the material world around us, was bad useless and the spiritual life is good and useful. That doesn't sound so bad, does it?

I don't know that I would have every verbalized that, so maybe I was just a functional neo-platonist and not a real one. But the way it played out in my everyday life came in the way I treated my body, in the way I thought about the world, creation, trees, squirrels, and even ultimately my heart. I denied that I needed to think about things that wouldn' t last for eternity. In fact, I think I was quite misconstrued as to what would last for eternity. The Bible talks about how the whole earth is groaning for redemption, a redemption that is coming (Romans 8). I interpreted that (along with a lot of reinforcement) to be that we didn't need to think about such things, only the spirtual things. That was what seeking first the kingdom of God meant, afterall, right? All that we need to worry about are souls, right? Nothing else? Well in a sense that is true, but in a sense, that really misses the mark.

Over time I began to see how God cares for each and every aspect of us--heart, soul, body, strength, mind, and the surrounding world he put us in. He created a world and he said that it was good. Even after the fall, he never said it was bad. Then why do we in evangelical circles live like it is so often? I always neglected things in more of the physical realm because I was too busy dealing with the spiritual. I had no time and we can let those who don't care about the spiritual deal with that, can't we?

So I was a neo-platonist. I didn't care about the environment or health or really anything. But time (and necessity in the health department) brought about the reality that God really does care for all of His creation--the greatest to the least. People are a big part the redemption--the ultimate of his creation. But the physical world, the penultimate, will be redeemed, too. He cares about it, we should too. This world will be redeemed one day. It is groaning and longing for it as we see clearly from events happening every day but in the meantime, we can do our little part to care and tend to the garden God has given us.

So I'm no longer a neo-platonist. I'm also not a tree-hugger. I'm somewhere in the middle in a place where balance is good--not the static kind that never ceases and dies but the place where you are struggling to remain and therefore find the strength to stand. One thing I've learned from yoga and standing on my feet for hours at Starbucks, if you lock your knees for an extended period of time, bad things happen. So be fluid, be flexible, be wise.

So there it is. It's not polished, I haven't gone back and edited. It's not a very clear explanation of what I mean to say which does dry me a little nuts to post it out there like that. But it's something, right? I'm back on the blog (again).

one crazy summer

2006-08-29T21:19:00.000-05:00

I think that was the title of a movie.

Anyway, it has been one crazy summer: job leaving, new job learning, moving, organizing, studying, cramming, testing, failing, redeeming. It's been nuts. I've barely been able to keep anything straight. But finally I feel life beginning to settle, like I know what I'm doing at Starbucks, that apartment is somewhat in order, and finally I'm finding a rhythm.

In the midst of maddness, creativity wanes. That might not be true for everyone, but it has been for me. I haven't been feeling terribly thoughtful or like I'm bursting with something to say. I've had thoughts, but can't really tell you what those thoughts are or have been.

But yes, dear Keijo and anyone else who might be wondering, there is life after 30. So much life that I wish it would only slow down a bit. But classes just started. And I'm sure I'll have much to think about. Thinking is now my job, aparently.

30 Pictures

2006-06-13T21:34:00.000-05:00

ok, so maybe there aren't 30, but here are some pictures from my birthday party, for those of you who could make it and those of you who couldn't.

First of all, it was at the Bosendoerfer Lounge, which I like for several reasons.
1. Its great German name.
2. it is located inside of the Westin Grand Bohemian Hotel, which is another very cool name--
3. and Westin's hold a special place in my heart.
4. It's downtown.

5. It's swanky and has velvet seats.
6. They generally have a jazz three piece there, but this particular night they just had a guy at the piano (a Bosendoerfer piano)
7. The Bosendoerfer Piano.
8. There are fun memories with fun friends at various times over the years.

Next, there are the friends. Here's a series of them:

30 pictures, plus one

2006-06-12T22:06:00.000-05:00

This one is of Janet and I, reliving one of our most famous moments. And just in case you're wondering mom, those are little chocolate sticks.

(for those of you keeping track at home, I altered the date on this so it would come at the bottom of the list)

30

2006-05-30T22:05:00.000-05:00

For those of you who are keeping count, I just turned 30 on Sunday. There has been a lot going on that has kept me from thinking too deeply on it. I'm glad it's here, though. I thought my post last year on turning 29 last year said it well. So for your reading pleasure, remember with me. And yes, it was a good year.

my cuddly bible

2006-05-24T12:42:00.000-05:00

One week ago I lost my bible. It was a gift from a former boss, but even more than that, that particular bible was a special gift from God himself. I had contemplated getting a new one for a couple of years. Ever since I had graduated from colleges, all of my bibles were a specific translation, the most correct in my estimation, and also hardback. But as time went on, I began to realize that they had ceased being the book of my heart, and began to be the book of my head.

So I wanted a new bible…a “cuddly bible”. I already had one that I had carried everywhere in college and had long since been falling apart and retired. But now I needed a new “cuddly bible.” One that I could crawl in bed with and not worry about getting poked. A bible that I could seek Jesus with my heart with, not have to be caught up in the translation of specific definite articles (which I love but sometimes need to pull away from). The other bibles I had bought because they were the “right” bibles to have. But they weren’t what I needed. I needed something to connect me not to the God of academia, but to the God of my heart.

The Christmas of 2003, my mom gave me money to get a new one. But I couldn’t choose which translation I wanted. So the money got spent on other things. A year later, my boss was moving to a new role and gave each of us a parting gift…a small, leather, flexible, soft, new living translation bible. She gave us grey and black ones, but it didn’t quite seem like me. So I exchanged it for a brown and black one, which seemed perfect. I contemplated switching translations, too but I decided it, like the bible itself, was a gift from Jesus. The NLT isn’t the most scholarly of translations and my pride really bucked it. It still does in a lot of ways. But I knew it was what I needed. I read things I’d never seen before and it truly became the bible of my heart, my “cuddly bible.”

Then this last week, I had a meeting with someone at a coffee shop before church and when I was getting out of my car to go to church, I realized it wasn’t there. I looked in my car and didn’t find it. I drove back to the coffee shop with no avail. It was gone. I was sad, but I remembered God’s way of brining my bibles back. The three times it happened before were pretty miraculous: stolen backpacks, lost coats, drunk college boys, and miles and miles. But would God do that again?

Fast forward to Friday: Thursday night I received some news that shook me deeply, made me wonder what God was doing, made me feel grapple with deep fears of loneliness and abandonment. I had spent the better part of Friday morning in my office trying to hold it all together. At lunch I needed to be alone. I grabbed my purse, some water, and tissues and walked away from my desk, not knowing where I’d end up. I got in my car and went to the far corner of the parking lot where I’d park facing some bushes so no one could see inside the car. I cried. I don’t remember what was going through my head except feeling alone, alone, alone. I knew God was there in my head, but I didn’t want Him, I wanted someone who would actually show up.

Eventually, my eyes drifted to the corner of my car between the passenger seat and car wall, just under the seat belt. I noticed the corner of a book sticking out—a book with a soft black leather binding. It was one of those moments that happened in slow motion. I’m pretty sure I closed my eyes and had to look again out of disbelief. I slowly reached out to take it, drawing it into my chest incredulous. And then I knew. I cried from the depths of my heart and knew right then that though I thought I was alone, I wasn’t. Jesus was right there with me. He said to me, “I know, I see, I’m here.”

So it was a miracle. Not a miracle of miles or of sobered-up college boys assuaging their consciences by doing a good deed, but a miracle of timing. I looked in my car three times, running my hand through those cracks around the door. Maybe it was there the whole time and God hid it from my eyes, knowing I’d need it more later in the week when I wasn’t likely to have it. Maybe it wasn’t there at all and God put it back. I don’t know. All I know is that it was there, the “word made flesh” was there among us, among just me in my car.

The marker was set to Psalm 33. The passage I went to in worship with the same Thursday night group with whom I had received the heartbreaking news. I had just spent time there again before I lost it for five days. Those verses there have driven their way into my heart, comforting me from the depths of God’s character and trustworthiness. I still struggle with feeling alone and abandoned, but I remember now that He sees. I don’t think it would have fit back in that little corner if it weren’t so soft and flexible. I know I couldn’t have drawn it into my chest and hugged it without getting poked by a hard edge. God speaks through His word, whether or not it’s cuddly. He just showed up in a way He knew I needed…softly and tenderly and at just the right time.

92

2006-04-27T16:07:00.000-05:00

Today I have sent 92 emails. I have deleted probably twice that many.
Yet I still have over 400 in my inbox.

And you all wonder why I haven't blogged.

in honor of my first year on the blog...

2006-04-13T23:25:00.000-05:00

...I've decided to return! No, I'm not dead. Everyone once in awhile I'll look at my blog to see if anyone has read it or left me comments in spite of the fact that I haven' written in over a month. Sorry, I just haven't been in the mood for writing. But here I am. Back. Today I've had some licorice, and some lemon, not lime. Something must have inspired me to return to the roots of this blog's name. Maybe Easter is upon us which among many other deep spiritual and historical significance also ushers in the return of black jelly beans--licorice jelly beans. And this always makes me happy. Today I've had licorice jelly beans (actual licorice content quesitonable), licorice candy (actual licorice content confirmed), and licorice tea. Maybe that is what has moved me to actually come back to where I started a year ago...a little bit of a weird combination.

taxes, check.

2006-02-28T23:03:00.000-05:00

Today I did my taxes in addition to other things I had been putting off. Finishing one's taxes has got to be really high on the list of things that make you feel good. Even though I owe money this year, it just feels so great to have them done! I also wrote a newsletter today...which I haven't done since November and have been putting off like crazy. Thanks to all of those who keep praying for me anyway!

what's not to love about john cusack?

2006-02-15T09:03:00.000-05:00

Your Life is Like

High Fidelity

What John Cusack movie are you?

the least of these brothers

2006-02-12T23:35:00.000-05:00

You speak in signs and wonders
I need something other
I would believe if I were able
But I’m waiting on the crumbs
From your table*

This morning as I was walking the dog during quite possibly one of the coldest days of the Florida year, I was listening to this song by U2 on my mp3 player (a function newly utilized on my palm pilot). This stanza caught my ear as I walked and attempted to pray for our new church launching tonight. It caught more than my ear, it caught my heart as I prayed and remembered the poor and the healing needed so much more deeply than a climb on the socio-economic tree. But what grabbed my attention was Bono’s reminder of Jesus’ words (though subtle in his Bono-non-American-Christian-bubble sort of way that has such a tendency to either piss people off or draw them to him) about the Gospel and the Kingdom not being just about what we say, but about so much more. We cannot just get away with talking the talk (you speak of signs and wonders), though we may try. It may sound good, but those who are hungry need more than that to believe. Don’t we all, when it comes down to it? We don’t really believe the Gospel until we see it, do we? I know I didn’t really believe the Gospel until I saw it being lived out in front of me. God gave me people who met the needs I had to in order to overcome my own barriers to the Gospel. That’s what He longs to give to those who are physically hungry, too. They know that. Why don’t we?

I have read how Bono considers what he does for the poor as being his part of seeing “thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” Lessons from a Rock Star—lessons from someone whom I believe follows Jesus in a very unique way yet knows he follows Jesus.

A few hours later Priscilla and I and others are unloading supplies from her car as we prepare for the first service of our new church. I take something to the back of the church and when I come back to the front I see a man I don’t know help her carry something in. He introduces himself as Lionel and then sheepishly asks for some money. She gives him a few dollars and he tells us his story. He tells us of his illness, how he can no longer work, of how he used to play the guitar. Then he sings for us of Jesus. The song touches Priscilla deeply, but I can’t seem to shake the words of U2 out of my head.

Meeting Lionel was as if God gave this gift to Priscilla and I as we prepared to serve the church as a reminder of something specific to which God has called this new church. And it makes me thankful that I am in a place where I will not be allowed to forget the countless “Lionel’s” out there—men and women who make us uncomfortable and who need you desperately. It is good for us to be uncomfortable and to be reminded that they aren’t the only ones who need you desperately. We need it, too. We all need something more than our “stories of signs and wonders” and something more than “the crumbs from our tables.” They need their stomachs and hearts filled. They need to see that Jesus loves them through seeing that we love them.

Lionel tells me I need some bass in my voice. I agree. I’m uncomfortable, as I almost always am when first meeting anyone. Yet I feel at peace with where I am, knowing God meant this meeting not only for him but for me. I need to be shaken once again like I have been before. I need to live a life of pouring out. I’ve grown cold and selfish. I hear the ice melting, though.

I sort of expect him to come back in an hour when we’re having services, but he doesn’t. Maybe he’s afraid to come into a church where people are dressed nicely and might be afraid of him, being obviously homeless. Maybe one day he won’t be afraid to come anymore.

I was hungry, and you fed me.
I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink.
And the King will tell them, ‘I assure you, whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters, you did it for me.**

*Crumbs from Your Table, U2
**Matthew 25:35, 40

the last monday morning

2006-02-06T09:04:00.000-05:00

Today begins week four of my sabbatical. How did that happen? Where has the time gone? I woke up at 6:30 hungry and needing to do other necessary things and laid in bed reading with a cup of team. Now here I am at 9am doing some work stuff (I know, can you believe it??) and blogging.

I think I'm learning that it's ok for time to move when I have unstructured time. It's going to happen whether I want it to or not so I may as well be ok with it.

Sabbatical, Day err...whatever

2006-01-30T12:45:00.000-05:00

Whatever day we're on, it's the half way point. I guess that would make it either 10 or 15, depending on how one counts the weekends.
I've spent the better part of the last week in the state of Georgia visiting two amazing women. The first, only for an afternoon and the second for three wonderful, chaotic days.
My journey first took me to see Joyce Blackburn, a friend of my family Joyce is in her eighties and has lived an amazing life as a writer and musician. I'll have to relay some of her stories later. Joyce lives on St. Simon's Island in Georgia and I've spent the morning reading her history of James Oglethorpe and how he founded Georgia.
I left Joyce on Tuesday afternoon with my face set towards Atlanta to see my friends the Sparks. I knew it was a 4-5 hour drive, but didn't think much of it as I was planning. But when it was 6:30 and I felt myself struggling to stay awake, I remembered my mom's words "You know, it's ok to stop, don't you?" And so I swallowed my pride and $50 and got a hotel room. It smelled awful, so I then decided to set out on a journey in a town I later discovered was Savannah (no idea when I stopped) to find a Wal-Mart or other such place in order to purchase some candles to make the place more at home for the evening. After finding a Wal-Mart in a very dark, rural part of town I happened to notice the little nail salon within it. Lately I've sensed the bushiness of my brows and was pleased to hear an affirmative reply to my inquiry over whether they did eyebrows.
So out I walked, ending my evening at 7:30 with nice candles, a birthday card for my favorite one-year old bubby, and well-groomed eyebrows.
Being Tuesday night, my comfort show was on--Gilmore Girls (which by the way is one of Joyce's favorite shows). And I also discovered one of my new favorite shows--Love Monkey. It has Ed in it. He'll always be known as Ed, won't he? It's great. I love all the music and that whole world. It's nice.
I'll save the rest of my journey for later.

Sabbatical, Day 5

2006-01-20T12:12:00.000-05:00

It's Friday. I don't have much quantitative evidence of how I've spent my week, but I think its part of what God is teaching me during this time: time is not measured even in the simplest of thing (books read, journal pages filled, etc) but in...I don't know, honestly.
All I know is that I value time to do the above things so much that it's like I strangle the ticking clock and don't actually enjoy the time I do have to do these things.So here's to the next week of my life and the books I will read and the pages I will write and the cello I will practice and the tea I will drink... maybe some coffee, too.
Just for those of you who share my need to have quantitative goals, here are the few I have for each day:
1. Do something I've been putting off every day.
2. Exercise every day.
3. No sugar except for special occasions (tonight is roommate Kerri's going away party. It will involve fondue. Big pots of chocolate are always special occasions).
4. Practice my cello every day.
5. Journal every day.6. Blog when I feel like it. (sorry, gentle readers, you get the short end of the stick).
7. Cultivate the spiritual disciplines (prayer, meditating on scripture, contemplation) every day.
8. Pursue good friends at least every other day (otherwise I get a little spacey--like I did with Barnes and Noble guy the other day).

These are surprisingly attainable goals when one doesn't have to go to work. It's very nice.

Sabbatical, Day 1

2006-01-16T23:22:00.000-05:00

Or errr...Day 3, depending on how you count it. Today (Monday) is the first official day I wasn't in the office. And how did I spend it? I spent the morning talking church and life stuff with Brad, my pastor, and then went with Tiff to see Queen Latifah in Last Holiday. Decent story, poor delivery. There is a pungent ordor of cheese about it, don't pay full price, but a matinee is acceptable. A cheap theatre might even be better.
Then I came home, and after a rejection from the oil-change place (told me very politely to come back tomorrow because they were all booked for the day), went on a nice long walk and then came home to money and laundry. Well, I got my money-world somewhat in order while doing my laundry. I also included ironing in the deal. I decided that one my goals for my sabbatical should be to do one thing each day that I've been putting off. I failed with the oil-change, but succeeded with ironing (two weeks and counting I've been wishing I could wear the wrinkled shirts hanging on my closet door).
So that's all I have to report currently. Not much. But it's bed time. I didn't leave much room for thinking and reflecting with all the activity today. That's on the agenda for tomorrow.

the dream of the little suitcase

2005-12-27T01:37:00.000-05:00

I have a set of three pieces of luggage that I purchased (or my mom, I can't really remember whho paid) after my freshman year of college when I worked at Elder-Beerman and had a nice little employee discount (hence the fuzziness over who actually paid). These three hunter green Samsonite pieces have seen me through many a trip, many a car trunk, many an airplane's cargo bay. Many houses, many states, two countries.
I no longer really use one piece. It's a "hangie bag" and is a pain to get into and out of when you're on the road. But the principle other pieces I use all the time: the big suitcase and the little suitcase (aka, the Magic Suitcase because I've often shocked myself with just how much I can fit inside that suitcase like on laundry days in Germany or when I found I was coming back with more than I left with). For longer trips I pack them both. I brought them both home for Christmas but since I'm going to a conference tomorrow and will only be gone for four days, I thought I'd try really hard and only pack the little one. So I've been trying really hard. What can I live without for the next four days? What will I need? What will I not need. I thought I was doing pretty well, I had huge hopes of getting to take only the little suitcase, but now that the laundry is pretty much done, the dream is dead. I cannot make it to Christmas Conference with just the little bag, even if it is the Magic Suitcase.
I think what it comes down to is not that I like the Magic Suitcase better than the big suitcase, because the big one has wheels and the little one must be carried. I think it comes down to the fact that I don't like the fact that I'm so high-maintenance. I feel like I require so much stuff and honestly it drives me a little crazy. Like my hair, for instance. Four products, post-shower. So if you count shampoo and conditioner, that's six. Anti-frizz, gel, curl enhancer, spray. I think part of it is how I resist routine. More stuff=more routine. But then again, I really like how myy hair turns out with each of those products. By the way, I have an amazing haircut currently.
Is it a perception issue? Do I just like being seen as a low-maintenance girl and being seen coming to a four day conference with a big suitcase hurts the pride? I have a feeling that's only part of it.
I value simplicity. I know how too much stuff leads to a troubled heart and mind. I am drawn to simplicity and singleness of purpose and mind. My heart longs for it, to even be low-maintenance.
But when it comes to packing, I'm not very good at simplicity. So then, why can't I just embrace it? I have a lot of stuff. And I like my stuff. So I guess I should get used to it. Simplicity must come in my heart and in my everyday life. But in travel, I require stuff. I require the big suitcase. So for now, the dream is gone. At least my hair looks good. And isn't that what's important, after all?

Maybe if it were summer and there weren't sweaters in there...

christmas

2005-12-26T00:07:00.000-05:00

It's Christmas Day!

My expectations, set determinedly low last night and the previous week, were far exceeded today. It has actually been a really fun day. Maybe we should go to church, come home, eat lunch, then do presents every Christmas.

Last night I was disappointed with Christmas and being an adult. Then it hit me that the magic was gone because I never stopped to think about Christmas, really. Enter cheesy Christmas movie script here. This fall I've learned more than ever how amazing it was that Jesus came to begin with, how his birth is the hinge of history, the first stage of the battle to redeem the world. My professor this semester asked us if we really believed that Jesus was really going to change the world. Actually, he didn't ask us. He told us we don't really believe it. We don't really believe that Jesus is going to come back and transform this world into something new and bring it back to what it was created to be. It has captured my heart once again, the gospel. The gospel isn't just for individuals--it's for all creation. I'm barely understanding it, but I feel like I'm just beginning to taste it.

So Merry Christmas, everyone. He's coming!

Serenity

2005-12-21T00:34:00.000-05:00

It's not what you think. It just came out on DVD. It's a movie. A really stinkin' cool movie based on a stinkin' cool television show. I don't feel very eloquent tonight, but I thought I'd express my delight at the fact that my brother made a B-line (what does that mean, exactly? what is a b-line?) to purchase said movie this morning and I got to watch some of the extras. I haven't watched the whole movie since the theatres, but I highly recommend it. And just by saying something means I REALLY recommend it. I also recommend the series from whence the movie was spawned, Firefly. Come join the Browncoasts.

And, I got a haircut today. I'm addicted to layers. It was fun watching Jessica create more and more of them. I don't like the necessity of layers, but I sure do like what they do. Maybe one day I'll be able to live without them. Until then, I guess I'll just be content to how they make my hair all fun and curly.

home

2005-12-18T22:30:00.000-05:00

Heather and I drove home yesterday. We arrived around 9:30 after a long day on the road. It went more quickly than I expected it to, though. I like roadtrips.

Whenever I come home, there is always this deep quietness here. Maybe it's because it's an older house, maybe it's because my ears had been heaing the whir of the miles for hours and hours. But there was a definite sense of silence when the welcomes were all done and I was alone in my room.
"What did on my Christmas Vacation" should be a report I'd like to be prepared to write. I don't want to squander my time here. I want to read. I want to play the piano. I want to catch up with friends. I want to pray.

Hopefully I'll do all these things and more. But it will take some planning. Planning is not so bad as I made it seem last week in an email to a friend. I think I just get overwhelmed sometimes. I suppose that is what vacations are for: relax, refresh, think ahead, rest.

done.

2005-12-13T21:59:00.000-05:00

Tonight I took my final for my seminary class. It's done. My class is over. Part of me is excited because it means I now have a life again. Part of me is sad because I'm really going to miss that community up there. Really sad. I've grown to love RTS and my friends there and that environment. I'll be back, I'm pretty sure. I just won't be back this coming semester. I'm going to miss being a nerd.

I'm tired, though. I'm ready to go home and be with my family. I'm ready for Christmas. This is different than college, though. It's not really my school work that overwhelms me, but my work. It's just a lot to do and a lot of responsibility and I'm barely hanging on. I don't have the expectations of doing it perfectly, but I do want to do it well. I need to let go of doing the job like it's always been done. We don't have the capacity or the people we once had. But it will all get done, eventually. Thanks to Anna and Dawson who faithfully wade through the mess with me.

DAS

2005-12-08T23:37:00.000-05:00

I think I have DAS, reverse Seasonal Affectation Disorder. You know that syndrome where people who live in really dreary climates become clinically depressed because of the lack of sunlight in their lives? It has to do with mellotonin production, apparently. A friend and I decided the other day that I must have DAS instead of SAD (I've always wondered if they came up with the acronymn first or if it convieniently formed a descriptive word). Ever since I lived in Michigan (a state where people could actually have SAD), I've realized how I just felt happier on cloudy days. My friends there said I was like a bat. In Henry Cloud's book, Changes that Heal, he says something to the effect of "depressed people like it when it is dreary outside because it matches the way they feel inside." Hmmmm. I was already pretty convinced I was depressed at this point, so that comment made sense. But five years later, I'm living in the Sunshine State and not really feeling depressed much any more. Then why is it that I feel so hyper on cloudy days? Like I could take on the world and be all that God created me to be? Why do I want to crawl under a cool damp rock in the heat and sun? Why did I yell at a butterfly the other day for its presence during the Christmas season?
That's what I thought, too! I have DAS.

hyper peace

2005-12-08T23:33:00.000-05:00

I title this post that because I am at the same time both hyper and peaceful all at once. Except for my final which I'll take Tuesday night and some other potentially stressful things that will happen at work this week, I'm feeling as if the world is aright. I had my office's christmas party here today. Having people over just makes me hyper...hyper in a good way, not a stress/anxiety way. It's really nice. I love having people in my home and sharing it with others.
So now it's 11:30 and I'm drinking chamomile/lavendar tea (which I highly recommend) in order to go to sleep. I think it's the feeling of freedom coupled with the rest of having a clean house and that its all decorated for Christmas. Which leads me to another conclusion which I think I'll start a new post about....

No Jetta Fo You!

2005-11-29T22:30:00.000-05:00

That's sort of what God said, but not so much in the soup nazi-ish way. The Jetta sold before my car sold, which I always felt would be the defining mark of whether I should do it or not. I was pretty anxious about all the way through. But the thought of owning a Jetta did make me sort of giddy. Really though, I'm ok. Really, I promise. I've got this peace about the fact that I trusted God and tried. I think that's more of what I needed more than anything. Leaving behind the safe and the reliable and going after what I really want: I think that's what I really needed to know I was actually willing to do. Thinking about change is one thing. Going through with it is another.
So for now, no change with the Honda. It will last me through many another change in my life, I'm sure. So now we can start thinking long term, I guess...

world on fire

2005-11-27T00:36:00.000-05:00

I woke up with Sarah McLachlan in my head this morning. Tonight I found this video that Ryan had on his blog a while back. It made me cry, again. I hope it does something to you, too. http://worldonfire.ca/

new on the blog

2005-11-25T22:46:00.000-05:00

Dear faithful reader,

Do you exist? And if you do, why aren't you leaving any comments???

Anyway, I'm in one of those weird moods where I feel like writing but at the same time I just want to go to bed. I really like night time. It makes me want to do all the things I put off: read, play my cello, study greek, write, etc. But I'm getting old. Going to sleep pretty much keeps winning out.

But this post is to draw your attention to the new sidebar: Best of the Blog. It's a place where I'll put posts to which I'm particularly attatched. I would hate it when they would get lost in the archives--these bright little spots in my blog. So there they are for all to see and love and become to which attatched. I'm open for suggestions for future additions.

Unless no one is reading this, then feel free not to make suggestions. But please, leave a comment and let me know you're not reading, will you???

I passed 8th grade science!

2005-11-24T11:49:00.000-05:00

You Passed 8th Grade Science

Congratulations, you got 7/8 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Science?

For Sale

2005-11-21T14:53:00.000-05:00

After much contemplation and the turning of the gears, I've decided to go for it. I'm attempting to sell my 2001 Honda Accord in effort to purchase a VW Jetta. The process was long. Is this a good stewardship decision? Is it wise? Will God provide for me if it breaks down? Will I like driving a stick? But as I was pondering it, I felt like there were quite a few things that God revealed to me. It started out being about a car. It ended up being about trust and challenging God's ability to provide for my needs not just today, but tomorrow, too.
This whole process made me wonder what exactly "counted" as prayer and what was just the gears in my head whirring. Of course, the mere fact that I try to make sure something "counts" as prayer sends up red flags that I'm really trying to make it on my own, still trying to get enough points so that God will like me and not live in His grace with a transformed heart, mind, and value-system.
So my decision is this: It was an ongoing conversation with God, evaluating facts not only about the two cars, but also about truths about God and reveling in those truths. "Wow, God will provide for me tomorrow!" and "He has wired me like this" and "Stewardship is a core value I've given you, Amy, but it's not like Jetta's are still really good cars so it's not like you're trading your Accord for a Pinto."
I don't have much in the way of an ending. I need to get back to work and the story isn't over yet. But I just thought I'd bring the people in my a little up to date.

suspicions confirmed.

2005-11-12T23:07:00.000-05:00

I've always wondered, now I know. But I'm ok with this. What does THAT say about me?

Pure Nerd
82 % Nerd, 43% Geek, 17% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.

The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.

Congratulations!

view from the hill called sanity

2005-10-31T12:45:00.000-05:00

I think I'm beginning to figure out how to live with this crazy schedule of mine. I have so much going on that to say I'm just "busy" doesn't seem to do justice to all the plates I have spinning that could all suddenly come crashing down to the floor. I won't name all those plates, but there are a lot. I am in a state of feeling completely inadequate to all the tasks and am feeling disappointed because of having to say "no" to things I typically would want to be a part of.
So I'm learning to delegate (even when I'd rather do it myself). I'm learning to take time to really rest and not feel guilty (even though my natural inclination is to hide under a rock and avoid it so therefore I react and don't rest at all). I'm also learning to just do one thing at a time and know that it doesn't all have to happen at once(even thought I can get into a hyper frenzy thinking it all has to be done TODAY). And I'm learning that I just need to carefully plod (or walk, depending on how dramatic you want to be) through trusting that by God's grace all will be accomplished in His time.
I'm also learning tp pray. Shocking, I know but it's about time, really.
So I thought I'd take this moment in my busy day, when I've passed tasks off to other people, when I've said "no" to having lunch with friends, to write and to take a minute to remember that I don't have to do it all myself. Ultimately, God's will shall be done even if I'm having a nervous breakdown. Hopefully we can avoid that, but even if I were to drop all those plates, trust comes from knowing that He will catch them...or maybe let some of the smash all over the ground for good reason.

a beautiful day

2005-10-25T20:04:00.000-05:00

The hurricane has given way to something that actually resembles fall. I did get to stay home on my hurricane day. It was so great: Rain, dark mornings, candles, coffee, and sleep (sleep before coffee).
My beatiful day, however was interupted about noon when someone called and suggested that I go to that conference that was still going on. But since they still were telling people to stay off the roads, and no one I talked to seemed to think that was a very good idea, I stayed home. I did struggle with guilt, but what's new?
People at the conference did act a little funny when I said I had stayed home yesterday. But they were all out of towners and must have not heard about the semi that got blown off of I-4 and onto the road underneath it...in the middle of the city! I'm glad I stayed home.
About 3:00 the sun came out. The weather here never ceases to amaze me. But how I do long for home.
Do you think I could ever convince everyone I love here to move back to Indiana with me?

Hurricane Days!

2005-10-23T16:02:00.000-05:00

It is somehow the consolation of the children of Florida. Poor kids, they don't know the elation that us yankee kids grew up with: anxiously waiting the night before or even sometimes the morning of to find out that freedom is just around the corner! It's a snow day!

Today I felt a little of that elation. There's no work tomorrow! But then again, I'm writing this from my office...on Sunday. I would much prefer to be sitting here picking some stuff up and doing email for an hour this afternoon than have to come in all day tomorrow, though.

Here's Wilma's projected path. Hopefully it will be all wind and rain and no tornados. After last year, though I'm so over this whole hurricane thing. I have a very numb attitude toward the whole thing. I honestly don't care, except for the fact that I don't have to go to work tomorrow. That part is fun. But I figure we'll deal with it like we dealt with it last year. I sure hope it won't be like it was last year, though. We already lost our roof once, hopefully it will last this time. It was harder than I realized at the time. Instead of crying all the time, I internalized it all. Hence the stomach issues and the ultrasound and the many many sleepless nights at Carly's house on her airmattress. Uggg. Those were the days.

10pm addition.
hmmm...I may be at work tomorrow after all. I just feel like my hopes have been dashed! Dangled like a carrot and taken away! The conference I was supposed to is going on, which I can understand since there are lots of people who flew in for it. But for those of us who will have to drive through it????
Maybe it's just my intense need for non-people time that makes me far more disappointed than I ordinarily would have been.

Photos!

2005-10-20T09:31:00.000-05:00

Finally! I've discovered how to do photos on my blog!

I think that when I first began my blog, posting photos was kind of a pain and I had to upload them elsewhere and then link that to my blog. Pain. Complexities I didn't feel like dealing with. But somewhere along the line, it became easy! So here I am...posting photos like mad!

Here is a photo I wanted to post long ago in my posting entitled, "Well, isn't that delightful." If I were as cool as Daniela I could insert a hyperlink to take you back to that posting. But I'm not. So go back and see this photo also featured in the edited version of this post. You'll find it in the March archives.

Fish desiny fulfilled

2005-10-17T20:21:00.000-05:00

Dear Rachel and Rebecca,

I need to tell you something. I gave Baby Bear Bear to Soganey. I hope you two don't mind, but BBB was living quite a meaningless existance hidden in my picnic basket with all the other stuffed animals that I own that I really have no use for. Cornelia, of course, is the exception. Even Norman is in there. Norman of course is too precious to let out. But then again Norman has fulfilled his toy-destiny by being beloved and popular while I was in college.
BBB, however has never had the opportunity to be loved. Until now. Because Soganey absolutely loves her Fish. His name is now Fish. I'm trying to teach Soganey to identify him based on his name. She knows "toy." When you go say, "Go get your toy!" She comes back with whatever it is she currently wants to play with. She's very good about playing only with things that belong to her. So now BBB (aka: Fish) belongs to her. My hope is that one day soon I'll be able to say, "Go get your Fish!" And she'll happily go and get Fish.
I know that this may significantly shorten Fish's life span, but isn't it important that he's happy now? He's experienced more of life in his five days out of the basket than his seven years in the basket. So don't cry for fish. Be happy. For his toy-destiny has been fulfilled.

love,
Amy

Soganey with toy...not fish. Keep checking back for Fish photo.

title? can anyone think of a good title?

2005-10-10T13:32:00.000-05:00

Do I really need a good title for one little posting? I can't think of anything and since I'm basically just writing to update folks on the lightbulb situation (there has been some concern expressed), I don't know if I really need one.

Ok, so I bought new lightbulbs. GE reveal or something. 60 watt if you're curious. 75 is too bright. I like my light soft. It only took me about three days from the time the bulb went out until I actually bought the thing. I didn't live in dimness too long.

In other news, I'm dog sitting for my friend Theresa. Techinically I'm cat sitting, too, but the cat seems pretty content to stay in the garage so I've only seen her a few times. I even checked to make sure that the kitty door wasn't stuck or something. It's not. She just doesn't want to come into the house apparently.

Sophie (the dog) is highly affectionate and definitely has an under developed sense of emotional object permanance. I move around a lot, especially when I'm either going to bed or getting ready in the morning so I kind of feel sorry for her when I go into a room only to stay for 5 seconds. But in that 5 seconds Sophie has managed to find a nice comfy spot on the floor. Then she has to follow me into the next room and do the same thing all over again. Soganey (Heather's dog that I actually live with as opposed to only this temporary thing like with Sophie) has gotten used to me and no longer follows me around unless she wants something from me.

I still think dogs are too much work for me to ever get one on my own, but I do like them more and more as time goes on. But please don't ever let me actually adopt one. Remind me how much work it is before I do such a thing.

Tanks in advance! (See http://danidoodle.com/thank_you/tanks.shtml)

I'm awake...

2005-09-25T05:29:00.000-05:00

Hi all,
It's 6:30 on Sunday morning. I'm awake. Mostly because I was sick most of the day yesterday and slept pretty much from 1-6:30pm. I didn't sleep very soundly throughout the night and here I am...online during the wee hours of the morning. I've already been up for an hour or so reading.

I'm feeling complicated again. It's mostly because the way I'm sick is complicated. It's just because "my stomach hurts" or because of "something I ate." I'm not feeling well based on many different compounding factors that if I were lay them all out for you would seem completely overwhelming and way TMI.

Yet I long for simplicity. I hope I get to really experience that one day.

light bulbs

2005-09-18T20:58:00.000-05:00

I have three lights in my room. Two lamps and one overhead light/ceiling fan. The fan never goes off, but I rarely use the overhead light. It just doesn't radiate coziness. In the past I've only used it if I'm cleaning or packing or something very utilitarian.
But this week, my desk lamp blew. We normally have stash of bulbs in the house, but not this week. So I've spent all weekend doing without. Sometimes I've chosen the overhead light, but really I'd just rather go with 50% light and not have my light at my desk but relying soley on the one by my bed.
I don't know why I'm writing about this, but I really feel the need to get back into blogging. So I picked what was on my mind. There are a hundred deep topics on my mind: fighting uphill battles, friends suffering, feeling a little neurotic, and completely and totally overwhelmed with life. But somehow tonight lightbulbs seemed like a concise enough subject to write one. Who knows what will come next?

2005-08-29T11:59:00.000-05:00

You Are 30% Weird

Not enough to scare other people...
But sometimes you scare yourself.

How Weird Are You?

What does it mean that I'm disappointed with only being 30% weird? Don't you think that the fact that I wish I were weirder should up my weirdness quotient?

One month later...

2005-08-16T11:43:00.000-05:00

I didn't intend to have a whole month in between postings. But I just decided today would be a good day to blog and happened to noticed that it is August 16th when I last blogged on July 16th.

It's been a long month. I don't really know what I want to write about since I really don't feel like re-hashing it. Maybe I will one day but not today.

I went to Colorado.
I spent a week in Evansville at home.
I saw Coldplay in concert.
I sat in the car with my sister for two hours after the concert, only to have said car to die on us.
I came home to Orlando.
I've had the pieces of my passion sort of come back together.

So it's been an interesting month, which I could write pages about if I weren't so...done. I guess I'm just feeling about done with drama right now. Can my life be boring for a little bit? Just a week? A month? Of course when it is, will I even realize it?

I'm going to go get some tea.

Discipline

2005-07-16T16:16:00.000-05:00

Writing.
I’m finally doing it. Sitting down and writing. I’ve always said I would. I have a few times, actually. But not as a discipline. Not as a way of developing an art. Does it come from fear? Does it come from the stunning reality (perceived or true) that I have nothing to say which hasn’t already been said? Probably. But today I was doing some reading (which I believe most, if not all, good writers have to do a lot of) and I came to the same conclusion I have come to over and over again: I let the little things I want get in the way of the big things I want.
So what is it that I want? I want to create. I want to be skilled. I want to be all that God has created for me to be. This comes for me in the way of music and writing, both of which take time. I spend way too much time being entertained, and not really developing what I have. Not that all entertainment is drivel, but that’s for another time. Valuable nuggets of truth and understanding are often found in the most unusual places. Today I was reading a book called “A Hunger for God” from which my aforementioned ‘revelation of the day’ came from. Yesterday, however, I was reading “Entertainment Weekly.” There I found a piece of treasured wisdom there, too. I almost don’t want to quote my source. It makes me laugh to think about the actress who said it. She had one career defining role playing a woman who led a double life, hiding her true identity until trouble came and then releasing it to bring beauty, strength, and peace. Linda Carter gave me my ‘revelation of the day’ yesterday. That’s right, Wonder Woman. She once made every little girl in America wish she had big red boots, an invisible airplane, and the ability to, well….save the world on a weekly basis. Then she spun around and all the sudden was back wearing her glasses and business suit with her hair pulled back, hiding her beauty and glory because it was just too much for the world to see all the time. Another topic for later.
“So what did she say” you may be asking? She’s an artist and a mother. She took time off from acting to raise her family. Don’t knock her career choices. But what she said in this interview that pierced my heart was this: “Discipline leads to creative freedom”. There it is. Some wise words from what must be a wise woman. It’s so true. We are given gifts, artistically. Few are given such gifts that come completely naturally. That’s why Mozart and Bach still needed piano teachers. They needed and we need help in taking what we want to say, to write, to play, to paint or draw, and actually putting that down on paper. They had these inexplicable short of the supernatural gifts and yet they still needed to sit down and practice.
So this, I suppose is what separates the wannabe artists from the masters. When it comes down to it, being an artist is not a talent issue, but a heart issue. Talent might let you live off of your art, but you’ll never be able to produce art without the discipline behind it. It proves true in my life, especially in music. I can write. I learned how to do that in kindergarten. Over the years I’ve learned to write and communicate more effectively. Journaling has been a part of my daily life pretty consistently for about 15 years now. But music…that’s another story.
I love music. I love the way it sends my heart to elation or so perfectly encapsulates my mood or feelings, even without words. Producing music on my own, however tends to be more complicated. I took piano lessons from the time I was in 2nd grade until I graduated from high school, 10 years. I was never terribly consistent in practicing, must to my teachers’ chagrin. Maybe I should have started in 1st grade or kindergarten like reading and writing. Not being disciplined has really hurt me. I don’t possess the skill to communicate on an instrument like I’d want to because I haven’t practiced.
I moved to Orlando when I was 25. I had always loved the cello and dreamed of playing one. I didn’t have to pay rent that first year so I bought a cello instead. Four years later I still own that cello, but don’t play it nearly as well as I ought. Things have gotten in the way: some of them big and important, some of the trivial not at all important. But the desire is still inside of me to play and to play well. I long to be able to make music with others--to complement their melody with the harmonies from my cello. To perform a deep, rich vibrato is my dream. But as of yet, I’m not there. Mostly because I have not had the discipline to make myself do it. I have lofty goals, but little follow through.
But before I let that depress me, I want to try one more time. And again and again if that’s what it takes to become good at something. For my dreams to not just be in my head but in reality. It has happened a few times in my life and it was sweet. So here’s to discipline: getting back up and writing and playing and practicing again and again and again.

still alive

2005-07-11T20:55:00.000-05:00

dear gentle reader,

I am still alive, don't worry.

we have to fight for it.

2005-06-18T09:35:00.000-05:00

You know when you’re reading something that you know will change your life, our outlook, your paradigm forever? I just finished one of those chapters. It was a call to community, to fellowship, to battle, to hearts entwined, even when it hurts. It made my inner being just long for relationships like that. That’s the way its supposed to be, you know. “It’s normal” says Mr. Eldredge.

I’ve been re-reading Waking the Dead for a few months now. Other books have been read in this period, but this one shouldn’t be read all at once…or if you should you should follow a little pattern I first read in “Spiritual Leadership” by J. Oswald Sander. Read it first to get an overview, a second time to really grasp what he is saying, then a third to let it penetrate your heart. Or something like that.

No wonder our churches are in shambles. The way we’re doing things remains status quo. Lives aren’t changed because hearts aren’t being touched. I’m not talking about the “wow, that was a great sermon”…or song…or whatever. I’m talking about the ability of a community to go in and see someone’s heart over a period of time. One time experiences don’t change people (well sometimes, but its rare). People are living organisms, we grow, we change over time. For the most part the only quick change living things experience is death.

What we need is a group of people, joined together over time. Knowing each others crap, seeing it, loving it, and knowing that there is something so much better there, under the surface. Fighting for each others’ glory. That’s what I want. And I’m willing to fight for it.

My writing abilities don’t do justice to my heart right now. Words just don’t seem to do it.

sad and freaking all at the same time

2005-06-17T12:42:00.000-05:00

I'm dog-sitting. Oscar (also known as Bubba) belongs to my dear friend Sara. She calls him "Issue Dog" yet loves him dearly and unashamedly. There's a lot of Oscar to love. He's not very big, but his personality is. He's a Boston Terrier, makes snorty noises, is deaf, knows sign language, has epilepsy, wears a yellow slicker poncho thing when he goes out in the rain. He's a trip.
I've had him since last week, when Sara went home to see her family. The first few days were hard: he kept relieving himself in my dining room and kitchen (poop in the kitchen, pee in the dining room), christened all the rugs in those rooms, wouldn't take his epilepsy medication, and was just being a stinker.
But the last couple of days, as we've gotten used to each others schedules and I started putting him in his crate during the day, we've been getting along better and he just seemed happier.

Then I come home yesterday in the storm, looking forward to putting his coat on him and letting him look like ET in it. But as I shook him to wake him up, he didn't move. He wasn't breathing. It took me a few minutes to move mentally from "he's not breathing...what do I do" to "he's not breathing. He probably hasn't been for hours and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it."

The I started making phone calls. The first was to Lisa, fellow Sara and Oscar lover. "to hear her tell it, I said "He's not breathing, get over here. [click]" But I think I must have said something else during our 51 second conversation. Then I left a message with one of my roommates and got ahold of the other. It was good to talk to her. It made me calm down some. I just have this need to talk about it, even now. Then I called my mom and dad. Then we got a call from a marketing research company. I'm sure they get the "I'm sorry, I can't talk to you now because my friend's dog that I'm taking care of just died and now is not a good time" excuse all the time, but this time it was really real. Oh well.

Lisa came, we called Sara, really really really hard for both of us. I cried. She cried. If I've ever wanted to believe in Doggy Heaven, it was there. we cleaned up his mess and took him to the after hours clinic where they'll keep him until Sara comes home.

The whole thing just breaks my heart--mostly for Sara, but also for this feeling that this is not how God intended life to be. He didn't intend for our hearts to break over and over when someone or something we love dies. He didn't intend for our bodies to battle illness and diseases and pain. But we do. My heart longs for the day when we won't have to anymore.

that reminds me...

2005-06-08T09:48:00.000-05:00

Posting that big about cards reminds me of when I was little and I had this fear of throwing things away because I'd never see them again. It all began with a Spiderman balloon. My first memory of helium baloons. Jeff got a Spiderman and I got a butterfly. He let it go and in his typical philosphic way (many of my memories of Jeff from when we were little are him saying something profound...maybe its just what I remember) said that it would go all the way up to atmosphere and then burst. That saddened me. And then I started to not want to throw anything away because I'd never see it again. Dad told me we'd get me a big box to keep all my papers in so I wouldn't have to be never see them again. I don't know how long it was until I figured out that this was indeed, the whole point of trash collection. How big would that box have to be if I kept it since then? Sure am glad I didn't do it and don't have to deal with it now.

cards

2005-06-08T09:45:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I wrote this as an email to Daniela, then realized I should have blogged it since I haven't done any of that for over a week. Maybe later I'll tell you why...

For now. Ladies and Gentlemen I give you....email.

Today I’m going through my basket of cards…thank you cards, birthday cards,
Christmas cards, thinking of you cards, ect. I haven’t thrown hardly any
of them away. Some of them are dated all the way back to 2002, my first
spring here. I just having a hard time throwing them away when they
contain greetings of friends. But I’m doing it. Except for very
special ones (Family birthday cards and ones with content too dear to give
up…like yours) but then there are others that I just feel like I need to let go
of. I try really hard not to be a pack rat. I like to not have
things sitting around but then again, I’m very sentimental, too. I try to
find a balance, realizing that at the end of my life, I don’t want to have to
throw away a box of old cards, as much as I loved those people. Sure, I
may forget people, but really, Do I want boxes and boxes of cards in my
life?? UGG.
I did find one from Trena and one from my Grandma
who passed away. Those are very dear to me. I have been keeping my
parents and grandparents cards, too. They date theirs so one day it will
be nice to have a whole collection of them. I don’t know how many I
have. Over the years I’ve kept them in so many places that I don’t know if
I’ll ever find them all again.

Anyway, I felt the need to
write about it. Hmm…That would have made a good blog.

9 minutes left of birthday…

2005-05-28T22:59:00.000-05:00

or 7 or 6 or 40, it depends on what you count. I first decided to sit down and blog about my birthday when my friends left my house. So at that point, it was 11:20 so I thought I’d name this “40 minutes of birthday.” But then the connection was so slow, I thought I’d reboot while I got ready for bed. By the time I got back, it was 12 minutes left of birthday, then 9, then…well now its 6.
So I’m writing this in a Word doc, who knows when it will actually get published. Why must dial up connections be so slow? I just don’t want to pay for connection so this is the price, I suppose.

My real topic…not griping about connection speed…is birthday reflections. Today I turned 29. I’m 29. I’ll be 30 in a year. I’m really ok with it. No, really. I am. I think it must be supernatural because most of my friends go through this sort of anxiety/panic thing and I’m just not sensing that. Maybe I will at 30, or 31. I don’t know, all I know is that 29 feels good. Like this is just right. Exactly where I’m supposed to be. I asked God this morning to make me conscious of things to be thankful of today. Well it happened this morning, and then it happened at my birthday party tonight.
It was a really fun party. A good mix of friends was here and we talked and ate cake and strawberries and some pretty scary fondue (it was chocolate, so really how scary can it be? Yeah, that’s what I thought too). But most of all, I just felt blessed and loved and cared for. I love seeing my friends connect with each other, even if they didn’t previously know each other. Real connection happened tonight, right here in my living room (which I mopped myself today….mopping the floor on my birthday was not one of the things I was thankful for, but now it is).
Well, the clock just turned to 12:00. Its May 29th. My birthday is over. In years past, I’ve had to do birthday re-do’s on the 29th because my real birthday just did not go well. I could tell tales.
This birthday, however, was not one of them. It was sweet. I had some alone time, which was good, but a lot of friend time as well. Thank you, sweet friends, who came to show love to me. And thank you, dear ones, who sent me love from afar and reminded me of the glory of my heart.
Wow. This year is going to be good.
Actual posting time 12:08. No comment.

Books!

2005-05-21T21:07:00.000-05:00

Books are one of my favorite things. I love them. I love reading them, collecting them, and sometimes just looking at them all sitting on a shelf all tall and proud. I just like them. But alas, somtimes, you gotta let some go.
I'm running out of shelf space and I've come to the conclusion that I will just never read these books...the desire isn't even there so its bye bye books.
So you can now--for a limitted time only--buy buy my books! My username is xaris19 on amazon.
They've been under my desk for two months. I've been meaning to get them online but just haven't made it happen. Hopefully they won't be collected under there for much longer.

blank page 2

2005-05-17T10:31:00.000-05:00

I realized after I wrote that bit about the blank page that it became something about firefly, not the blank page itself.
I notice this phenomena happening in my journal a lot. I feel the urge to write. But I'm sitting there. And nothing happens. That is, until I begin to write about having nothing to write about. Then inevitably, things come.
So the blank page is an impetus for thought, but acknowledging that blankness in my own mind tends to lead somewhere. Whether it is worth anything is a different story. So the blankness of a page (or a text field as the case may be) can either be something fearful or something inspiring, depending on where I am at that moment.
So here's to blank text fields to come. Hopefully they won't be filled with crap.

blank page

2005-05-12T11:58:00.000-05:00

Daniela says its time for a new post. I think it is too, except for the fact that I can't really think of much to write at this point in time.

I'm back in Orlando, now. My time at home was fast...really fast. What little freetime I had was spent watching a wonderful series that my brother owns--Firefly. We actually got it for him for his birthday last year....and this year, too. It was stolen around Christmas so he needed a new one. When I asked to borrow it, he still hadn't watched it. I wondered if it was worth is buying again, honestly. But from the moment I turned it on....well ok, I wasn't too wild about it for about 20-30 minutes...from 30 minutes into it, I was hooked.

Cowboys. Spaceships. Cussing in Chinese. Every character with a story and a history. It's a amazing. I won't go on too much, but there is a movie coming out this fall called Serenity. Let me see if I can find the trailer.
There, found it. http://www.serenitymovie.com/

moving right along...

2005-04-30T00:48:00.000-05:00

when I hear that I think of Kermit riding his bike, singing that song. It's cute. I think that's before the bad guy tries to eat his legs, right?

Anyway, I'm back home in Evansville now. I've put 1,000 miles on my car in the last three days. 150 of which were not supposed to happen and were logged in Kentucky accidentally. I was supposed to be in Kentucky but I was going west and not north and didn't figure it out until too late. But I made it home anyway.

All that to boringly say, I'm back!

pick it up and turn it on its side

2005-04-23T21:24:00.000-05:00

That's how to get my laptop to work again.
My laptop is quirky. It was given to me. Who knows how old it is. It has XP so it can't be that old. Anyway, the speakers don't work. Neither does the delete key and the cursor buttons (well, sometimes they work...sometimes). Once last week the whole top row of letters went out. But the big issue that kills me is that sometimes--without warning--the screen display will just start to fade and fade and all the colors wash together making the computer completely unuseable.
But this week I figured it out. I have long theorized that it has something to do with laying on its side or not. I had just never tried it while the computer is on. But its true! This week I got brave and after it started to blur out I turned it on its side and shook it (is shook a word?) and it works!

So for now, the lappy's back in action.

Cities and Nights

2005-04-19T21:42:00.000-05:00

I've always loved driving through cities on expressways at night. There's just something exhilarating about it. I did it the other night...the 408 heading east back home right through downtown Orlando. Its a beautiful thing.
Of course, Orlando isn't really a huge downtown area, but there's just something about seeing the buildings all lit up and driving through...really fast....or errrr...exactly the speed limit...
I've had this love of cities for a long time now. At least since early college, if not now. I've just always loved the life there. Of course, they can stress me out, too. Being alone in downtown Chicago (which I've done a few times) can be fun, but has always made me really tense, too. I guess if I knew it better, it wouldn't freak me out so much. That summer I was there I felt like I learned it. But later when I went back, the familiarity was gone. I think that must have been because I was no longer with at least 10 other people at all times. Funny what that brings.
There is a sense of community in cities that the 'burbs just don't have. I live in a subdivision. I hardly ever see my neighbors. I go to the same grocery store pretty frequently and rarely do I even recognize the workers much less the other customers.
We have this deep need for community, I believe. God puts it in our hearts. Something about ciites make you live in that reality more, I think.
So if you can, go hang out downtown tonight, wherever you are. Chances are it has a lot more personality than whatever is on your typical eastside hang out. Breath in the city air, take a minute to people watch. If you can, drive there on the city streets, not on the expressways. Of course, you can always get on the experssway and drive through it a couple times, just for fun.

Coke

2005-04-12T12:31:00.000-05:00

Today I'm really really tired. For those of you who don't know, this has been pretty common over the last couple of years. Recently I'd been feeling better so that's probably why this comes as a surprise to me this morning.
Of course, it could be because I violated some pretty big adrenal health rules yesterday: Coffee (even though it was decaf) and countless Hershey's kisses. Basically what happens when someone with sub-par functioning adrenal glands (me) takes in a bunch of stimulants (like sugar and caffeine) is that they get all revved up, then they take a nose dive (hence me being exhausted today). In normal people, this happens but your adrenal glands are healthy enough to make up for the nose dive. But mine aren't. So I'm crashing...still. And I'm sort of sick to begin with. So add some stimulants to a compromised immune system and what do you get? An intense desire to crawl back into bed.
So what am I doing now? Drinking a coke. I love fresh coke. Not the kind from a two-liter that has been sitting around for a couple of days. Something about drinking coke from a cold can is just so amazing. Why did I do it in light of all that stuff I just wrote? I don't know. I think I just want to feel better today. And I know that if that's all I have today its much less than what I had yesterday which means that tomorrow will be better than today. Does that make sense?

So today, I'm trying just to function on a task that has a lot of emotional stress attached to it. Its hard anyway, but when you add not feeling well to the pot...
The other day I was journaling and realized that I really was beginning to move out of being so wrapped up in how I'm doing physically. Today is really just one day. Tomorrow will be a new one.

Ever find one of those words that seems like it was made to describe you alone?

2005-04-01T13:32:00.000-05:00

from wordsmith.com...

esprit d'escalier (e-SPREE des-kal-i-YE) noun, also esprit de l'escalier

Thinking of a witty remark too late; hindsight wit or afterwit.
Also such a remark.

[From French esprit de l'escalier, from esprit (wit) + escalier (stairs).]

We're all witty. It's just that many of us think of our clever remarks a bit
too late. The French call it the staircase wit, indicating that one thought
of that perfect retort on his or her way out.

drugs: a mixed bag

2005-03-31T17:41:00.000-05:00

So I've had this cough...its going on three weeks. I went to the doctor about a week into it and asked him not to put me on antibiotics because they really do make me a little crazy. I usually don't need much help in that department. But the cough persists and so I went back yesterday. This time I accepted them plus a monster decongestant. And I feel...crazy. I'm realizing that I'm really sensetive to meds (that's why I avoid them if I can) but yet I can't shake this thing without them, it seems. So what to do...trade a long lingering yet only just annoying illness for a few days of heart throbbing, fuzzy headed, fog? I guess so.
It takes getting worse to get better, I guess. I have long enjoyed an occassional sick day, being just sick enough...to not have to do anything big read and watch movies in bed and drink tea. Doesn't that sound great? I thought I was weird until I read in C.S. Lewis' Surprised by Joy basically the same sentiment. Maybe its only a pleasure those of us who prefer a book and a cozy place to just about anything else enjoy.

"Well...how delightful."

2005-03-29T10:45:00.000-05:00

I have a naked mole rat sitting on my desk. I know, a bit scandelous or at the least, a bit disgusting.
It all started with this show called Kim Possible. I've only seen it five or six times but found it duly amusing. Its on Saturday mornings. Imagine Alias, but just in high school. Kim has all the cool spy staff. Most of which her dad (he's a rocket scientist) hooks her up with. And she has friends a normal life (like Sydney used to and I'm sure would like t have back) and one thing Sydney doesn't: a naked mole rat named Rufus that follows her around and often gets Kim and her sidekick Ron out of scrapes.
So for valetine's day, I get this pink thing. It's from my sister Rachel. I recoginize it at Kim's little pal, Rufus. But I still had yet to realize that he's more than a little pink thing, he's a real animal...the naked mole rat: http://www.letus.org/bmatters/animals/mole-rat.html
A good friend pointed out that link to me. And in her words, I leave you..."well...how delightful."

Good Friday

2005-03-25T20:53:00.000-05:00

Not much in the realm of deep thought today about Easter.

I am watching Troy, however. I read the Iliad this summer because I wanted to read it before I saw the movie. I'm just now watching the movie. But the one thing that strikes me in this story, as morbid as it is, is the genius of Homer, whoever he was, in writing such a story that leads you to care for both sides (well except Agamemnon, he's just a big power hungry jerk all around) but Hector, Paris, Priam, the rest of the Trojan's, I had always though they were the bad guys. The Iliad doesn't give much indication about whether or not Helen really willingly went with Paris or not, but whether or not, there is a nobility in Hector that really makes me care about him and want Troy to win. Of course they don't.
Here's something I should know, but I don't. I was one class short of a greek minor in college (little known fact) and yet there are things that I just don't get. That last class was on Homer, so maybe that's why. I read both the Iliad and the Odyssey this summer, looking for the fate of Troy, the famous wooden horse (I almost wrote rabbit...how sad is that?) and this whole thing with Achilles' heal and his weaknesses and his prophesied death...it doesn't happen within either of those books. So where is it? Are they in other greek writings? It just seemed odd to me.
The movie's not over yet. But if it does have the answers to those questions...can I really trust it? There's the cynic in me.

Maundy Thursday

2005-03-24T16:38:00.000-05:00

I didn't grow up in a church that talks much about liturgy, tradition, or the history of the church. In fact, I barely know the history of my own home church. But somewhere along the line I became fascinated by the past of the church--the liturgy, the tradition, the history.
This is one of those times of year when I find myself being particularly curious.
Today is the way we celebrate as Maundy Thursday--the day of the Garden of Gesemene, the day of the betrayal, the day of the denial, the day when the created decreed death upon its creator. I've always thought that Easter, Good Friday, Maundy Thursday, and Holy Saturday should hold more emotion for me than they do. But then again, I'm not going to manufacture some semblance of emotion in my heart. Something tells me that they'll come in their own time. Because its not about emotion, its about relationship. Its about relationship to the one who was scurged and beaten and betrayed and denied.
I'm pretty good at starting these things, but the stopping part I feel like needs work. So I'll just let that be that. I think it was Ravi Zaccharias that once said that the more you talk (or write in this case) the closer you are to heresy.

Licorice Tea

2005-03-24T11:17:00.000-05:00

I'm still trying to figure out how this works, but I think I like it. Honestly, I do have a lot to say but wonder if its worth telling.
So I guess I'll just throw it out there, and if you don't think its worth reading then don't read it!
I love licorice tea. Its taken me on this journey where I've discovered that I really do like licorice in almost any form. I began drinking the tea because they say it's good for your adrenals (which I need). But then I kept drinking it because it's just good! It has a natural sweetness to it but yet not overpowering.
Licorice candy is nice, too. I'm not talking about the red ropes like twizlers, here. There is no "red kind" of licorice. Licorice is black. Sorry folks, its just the way it is. You don't have to like it. Most people don't, and I'm totally fine with that. In fact, I usually like things more when I know that most people don't really care for it.
Just one of my many quirks.

I have arrived....

2005-03-23T14:28:00.000-05:00

I feel like a brand new me just exploded onto the internet.