My Future Husband Had Better Have A Big Family

So I went to Minnesota this year for Thanksgiving - it's where my Dad is from and where most of his side of the family still lives.  Since my Mom got to keep her job (YAY!), we decided we could take a mini-vacation.  At first, I was excited - I didn't think I was going to get to see my family for Thanksgiving, so I was happy that they had invited me to go with them.  But that lasted for about a split second. 


Then I had this thought.  It went something like this - We never travel for Thanksgiving.  We always stay home.  We always have people over.  I don't like traveling around the holidays, it's too busy and chaotic.  I'd rather just stay home.  Why did we have to go to Minnesota, why couldn't we have just stayed home?  That sort of put a damper on my Thanksgiving.  I wasn't that excited about it.  :/

But then I went.  And I sat in my grandparent's basement with 20 other people around and I suddenly had this flood of memories - memories that I'd somehow forgotten, but suddenly remembered. Memories of traveling to my grandparents house for Christmas.  Good memories.  Really good memories.  I almost cried - how had I forgotten?  How could I have forgotten making cake with my grandmother, hanging some awkward glittery putty-like substance on the window in the shape of snowmen and stars and snowflakes (there's a good chance my grandfather invented this putty-stuff), Opening presents, playing in the snow with my little cousins, remembering my uncle bring home his new wife and me meeting her for the first time - the wife who, years later, stands in the basement pregnant?

My dad's family is sort of odd - everybody has their quirks, for sure.  Almost everybody is introverted, but somehow you put us all together and we are LOUD!  Kids run around everywhere, adults talk and cook, clean up messes and laugh.  We have our issues, sure, but I'm so blessed.  It's a crazy family, but good crazy.  Not crazy as in grandma won't talk to son 4 because he married a girl she doesn't like and cousin 12 picks on cousin 4 and uncle 2 isn't ever around because he's in and out of jail and nobody's spoken to him in twelve years.  Not that crazy.  Crazy as in it's almost an entire family of engineers, and if they're not engineers, they're damn smart.  Crazy as in everybody has strong personalities, and we're a stubborn family who is always going going going, crazy as in we eat a ton of food, and we're perfectionists, and babies are a treasure and always get all the attention.  Crazy as in we do things like set up dominos (not play dominos, no, we set them up to go tumbling down like one of those fun videos) even though we're not very good and it takes like 5 tries to get one good run in, and then somebody has forgotten to push the record button on the camera and suddenly we have to do it all over again.  Crazy as in we play board games instead of watching the tv and then get competitive but in a good way and stay up til midnight playing games.  Crazy as in there's just people, everywhere, all the time, and everybody sits on top of everybody else and talks to everybody and it takes 30 minutes to get one good family picture, because there are 4 amateur photographers who are all trying to get their best portraits ever.  Crazy as in all the cousins grew up watching the River Dance VHS, to the point where the tape got so worn out that it doesn't work anymore.  Crazy as in in the middle of a get together my uncle will suddenly jump up and run downstairs and come back a minute later with his entire library of old LP's and his turntable and we spend an hour going through them, and singing along to things like Elvis and John Denver and U2 and Neil Diamond and even the kids know some of the songs.  Just crazy.

And somehow this year I finally got it - my family.  I get why everybody says they're thankful for their family.  Because they're who you really need.  They're the ones. For the first time ever, I got it.  And I can't even begin to express how much I love my family.  And, how much I love having a big family. 

So, Mr. Right.... I hope you have a lot of siblings.  Because otherwise we might have an issue....

(If not, Lauren and James, you're going to have to make up the difference.  That means like at least 5 kids each.)

Black Smoke

So we did some meditation in my sociology class today.  It was interesting - I've always been intrigued by meditation, and have always thought it might be something good for me.

We spent some time stopping and just breathing, pausing for a moment to clear the chatter from our heads.  I think that's something I need to do more often, especially when it seems like I can't pray, like I can't hear God above all the noise and distractions.  Then we did some meditation to help tap into our compassion center.  We looked around at people and wished that each of them might be happy, heathy, and at ease.  That excersize was easy - ok, I shouldn't say easy, but not extremely difficult.  I try to always be aware of other people's needs, and to be aware of any malicious thoughts or judgements I might have, even toward strangers.

The last part was that we sat and imagined ourselves sitting across from people, and imagined taking on their troubles and burdens.  We did this by imagining us breathing in dark smoke and breathing out light smoke. When my professor explained what the last part of our meditation was going to be I almost laughed out loud.  I thought to myself, if I take on any more burdens, I am literally going to die or implode.  She went on to explain that she wanted us to imagine doing it with someone we loved, someone we felt neutrally about, and someone we really didn't like.  I could barely contain myself at this point.  I thought, there is no freakin' way.  There is absolutely no way.  This is so not something I need help with.  I kept thinking along those lines for another split second and then realized something.  I can't do this.  I can't take on other people's burdens.  I don't have the strength or the endurance or the wisdom. I actually, truly, literally, can't do this.  But God can.  And I need his strength to continue to take on others problems, and to relieve them of it.  I have to change my mentality; I cannot rely on myself.  I must do this through Him.  Without it I am nothing - I am dead.

Why Harry Potter Could Be Good For Christians

I HAVE MIDNIGHT PREMIER TICKETS TO THE NEW HARRY POTTER!! It comes out Thursday night, and I'm pretty much super excited about this.  Like really super excited.  So excited, in fact, that I've rented the fourth and fifth ones (the sixth is mysteriously unavailable...) to watch again before Thursday.  :)

In re-watching the 5th movie (for those who can't remember, it's the one with the Department of Mysteries and the weird connection between Voldemort and Harry), I stumbled upon an interesting realization - Dumbledore, in many ways, exemplifies many characteristics of a quintessential Christian life (minus, obviously, the Jesus part.  Which I suppose undermines "quintessential", but... well, I'll just explain.)  I don't think anyone could argue that Dumbledore is a weak figure. To the contrary, he is one of the strongest people through the series - both in terms of the magic he is able to perform and in the steadfastness of his character. Throughout the novels, he displays a gentle strength unlike anyone else.  His ability to stand up for what he knows is right, and yet also simultaneously display love and respect, even toward those he disagrees with (and towards those who are violent toward him or hurt him), is astounding.  He is never passive, he doesn't simply hope that something will be done, or that someone else will object to what is wrong, but he always seems to take the right course of action. He almost always listens before he speaks, he displays genuine affection for the kids he works with, and the other teachers.  He embraces change knowing that he will adapt, and remain steady in his knowledge of good and evil.  He is humble enough to recognize his weakness (which I'm hoping is something that will be particularly evident in the 6th and 7th movies, as it played such a prominent role in the books), and to ask for help when needed without imposing on others for help when he does not.  In many ways, he lives out the characteristics of a Christian life, lacking only the direction of God. 

I wish there weren't such a vehement outcry by the conservative Christian community against Harry Potter - they truly are well written stories with incredible characters.  Perhaps, in moderation and with the right mindset, Dumbledore could be a wonderful example for many Christians, myself included. 

The Dichotomy of Being

I've always had a hard time sharing my testimony.  Actually, I take it back.  Since my testimony is about 6 months old, it hasn't been "always".  But pretty much since it happened.  Even in the thick of it, I hated telling the story.  I hate the attention - I'd almost always rather listen to somebody else talk about themselves.  I hate how vulnerable I feel.  I hate how whiny and privileged it makes me feel.  I hate re-hashing that pain that led to such beauty.  I really truly hate everything that story represents about me.  But mostly, I hate the attention it draws to me.  I love telling the second half of the story - the part about me loving Jesus.  But the part that led to that is the part I hate.  So mostly, I tell people what is pertinent to any given conversation, and avoid the parts I don't like. 

But, in the last 2 weeks I've shared part/all of my testimony 3 times to 3 different people (which, by the way, has been more emotionally taxing than one might expect).  And all three of those people told me how encouraged they were.  How much they admired me.  And how much they appreciated my honesty.  A couple of those people, interestingly enough, also mentioned my strength... which was odd to me.  But I suppose through God, I am strong... and even though I didn't recognize it at the time, I was strong at the time, because God was in my life, even when I didn't want Him there.

God is reminding me that when I tell my story in His context, my story can be powerful and good in His name.  And if it is my mission in life to glorify Him, then perhaps I need to be more ready to share my testimony. 

Essays and Refugees

I'm supposed to be writing an essay about refugees right now, and how it's an international issue.  Shouldn't be that hard, right?  Wrong.  Maybe the hardest essay I've ever written in my entire life, and I don't know why. I cannot seem to get myself going.  I don't know what to write, where to begin, or what to say.  I have nothing to add to the conversation.  I wish I could just write a big long rant, about how much I bleed for these people, about the tears I shed, about the depth and width of my love and concern and profound, profound heartbreak.  I'm getting that drowning feeling again.  Like I just don't know what to go, or where to turn.  Except the difference is that now I know I have the strength of God to lean on.  Doesn't always make it easier though.  I mean, it does, infinitely so, but at the same time it doesn't.  It doesn't detract from their suffering, or the way I break for them.  Sometimes I wonder if the majority of the rest of the world feels as deeply as I do... and mostly I don't think so.  But doesn't that make me arrogant to assume that somehow I have the capability to feel in ways others don't?  I don't know... I honestly don't. 

Ugh.  I hate this essay.  I hate this conundrum.  I hate this feeling.  I don't want to write this essay. And yet I do.  But I don't.  It's just not coming out... my brain is not producing anything right now.  Nothing.  Zip.  I'm hungry. I'm overwhelmed.  I'm consumed with other problems right now.  I wish I could not multitask.  I wish I could just turn my brain off and write.

New plan:  Journal.  maybe paint.  Get right with God.  Think.  Pray.  Get sleep tonight.  Write tomorrow. 

Please pray that I can be patient with myself.  And that I can focus and have discipline in all areas. 

Boys and Girls

So, there's this new campaign called "Fat Talk Free Week".   I think their facebook page explains pretty well what they mean:

Fat Talk describes all of the statements made in everyday conversation that reinforce the thin ideal and contribute to women’s dissatisfaction with their bodies.

Examples of fat talk include: “I’m so fat,” “Do I look fat in this?” “I need to lose 10 pounds” and “She’s too fat to be wearing that swimsuit.”

Statements that are considered fat talk don’t necessarily have to be negative; they can seem positive yet reinforce the need to be thin. E.g., “You look great! Have you lost weight?” 

It was started by a Tri Delta sorority, and is now a national campaign to spend a week without "talking fat".  I think it's a great idea! But there are people out there who don't.  They say that this promotes an unhealthy lifestyle by telling people they don't need to work out or worry about what they look like.  Firstly, I'd just like to point out that almost all the blogs, reports, and articles I've read against this type of movement are from guys:  Boys, if you don't support this, shut your damn mouth!  Either back girls behind this or get out!  I'm not saying boys don't deal with their own self esteem issues, but I'm sorry, boys, you have NO IDEA what it feels like to be a girl.  None.  At all.  So shut up.  I'm so sick of hearing about this. 

I'm learning how to work out because I love my body, not because I hate it.  I'm learning how to eat right because I love me.  I'm learning how do everything I do out of self-love rather than self-hate.  If people can learn to love their bodies, everything else will fall into place.  It's when we start hating our bodies that problems (like eating disorders - including binge eating) occur.  See, when I love my body I can say, gosh I should work out regularly.  But when I miss a day because I'm busy or sick, I can also accept that that's ok, that maybe my body needs sleep and rest right now more than it needs to burn 400 calories an hour doing an intense workout.  And I'm still leading a healthy life. 

So PUT A SOCK IN IT guys.

Here's a letter I found a while ago on the TWLOHA page, and I think it's a letter every woman should read, and then write one herself. 

Dear Body,

I’ve always let some imperfection or another stand in the way of me seeing what you truly are, that you are beautiful. You are a divine creation housing the most valuable thing known to the universe, my soul. I’m beginning to realize that a person’s soul has the capacity to radiate light that transcends all the characteristics that I have been conditioned to believe are flaws.

You naturally tell a story. Your blue-green veins are like a map to where your heart has been and where it is going. The curve of your waist and the shape of your cheekbones tell a tale of heritage and ethnicity. There are crayon markings on the wall somewhere that has measured your height throughout the years. Always returning to the same spot to see how you’ve changed.

Your eyes bare resemblance to nature. They are a deep forest green with golden yellow sunflower flecks. Your faded birthmark, once beet red, brought me shame because all I wanted was to conform. It now reminds me of how unique you are and all I want is to be different.

Your body begins as a story but continues with new chapters throughout your life. Some are chapters of sadness and pain, others of joy, and all of growth. Each chapter a blank canvas meant to be painted by our experiences. Photos are memories but so are our bodies in a way that’s more real, no posing and no fakeness.

I’m realizing these things now, but I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize them before. I’ve done everything I could to destroy the canvas and deface and burn the pages of different chapters.

I’ve waged war on you before; used razor blades to feel and drugs to numb. I’ve used caffeine to stay awake and alcohol to sleep. Abusing the side effects of my prescription drugs like loss of appetite, to deliberately starve myself into making you skinnier. I’ve spent far too much time on a scale that merely weighs your effect on gravity, not the depth of your beauty. I wanted you to look like one of those girls in the magazines.

But in the ruins there is still a canvas. There is still beauty in your brokenness. The faded scars show healing reminding me that even though I’ve been in dark places, I’ve survived and learned and become stronger.

Although the war is over, the world still takes its toll. You have calluses on your hands from me writing too much and concentrating too hard. Yet the words are beautiful and the studying is worth it. You have the ache when it rains from broken bones, and stretch marks from growing too fast. You have burns from jobs and scars from falls. But those experiences were worth it.

Dear body, as I grow older I worry about how you will age. Together we gain wisdom and wrinkles, after being young and beautiful and naïve. The wisdom tells us that the beauty doesn’t subside, it only changes, and more of it comes from within. So I won’t worry when my hair doesn’t look just right, or when I do something stupidly funny and emerge with another scar because you are telling a story. And what would I be without my story and my past?

Things I [didn't] Learn in Sunday School

The last 6 months have been absolutely indescribable for me.  For those of you who know me, you may be able to see, or hear about, some of the changes that have been going on in my life (both internal and external); and let me assure you, there have been A LOT of them.  I don't know how to describe it, or how it even happened, but suddenly I'm a completely different person.

One of the most significant things that different about me is that I have a newfound faith - something that's not entirely new, but definitely rediscovered, re-invented, redefined, and completely new from anything else in my life, ever.  And I'm discovering that I simply cannot get enough of God.  I've been going to church regularly (more than once a week, which for those of you who know me is a HUGE deal), I've been simply soaking myself in studying God's word and God's person, prayer, fellowship, meditation, and learning.  And from that, I'd like to share a few things that I've recently learned that I was never taught in 18 years of going to Sunday School:

• Acts 2:42-47 -- This is what a christian community should be about!  This is a church.
• God's material blessings to me and those around me is, in fact, a true BLESSING.  It's what we do with these blessings that matters - and God calls us to use our material blessings to help others, not shed our blessings to be with others.  There's a distinct and important difference, and it's something I struggle with. 
• Regarding Doubts:  "if you see through everything you see nothing.  The point of doubt isn't to see 'through' everything, but to see what's on the other side."
• God has blessed each of His followers with EVERY SPIRITUAL BLESSING that could be.  
• God's plan A was the church.  This was not His plan B or C or "collateral damage".  THIS is the plan. 
• Regarding Testimonies:  Most people emphasize the "how bad they were before God" part.  Shouldn't we be telling the story opposite; that is, shouldn't we be living radical, crazy lives AFTER we were transformed for Jesus?  Shouldn't that be the glorified part? The "wow" part?
• If a stranger were to walk into a church, they should look around at the people and say, "what on earth could bring every single one of these people here?  They are all so different - what could they possibly have in common?"
• Your life with God is like a bullseye, with God at the center.  People are all over, facing different directions, walking different directions, some are close to the center some are far out.  Obviously God cares about where we are in relation to Him, but more importantly, God cares which direction we are facing.  If we are in the center but facing out, looking back at where we came from, at all of the great things we've done, at all the hoops we've jumped through, we've completely missed the point.  God wants us to be facing him and walking forward, no matter where we are on the circle.  
• God has entrusted me with the Gospel, and it is my responsibility to share it. 
• We don't have to be perfect to come to God, but we do have to be ready to be perfected.
• Sometimes we grab a hold of an idea before God is done talking.  We need to let God finish His sentences.
• God wants to do something ORIGINAL in me.  Not something he's never done before -- something ORIGINAL.  As in, original to His plan.  Original to how He intended things to be.  Original - back to the origins.  
• Our spirituality is more important than our physicality.
• God often talks of His inheritance IN US.  WE are God's inheritance!
• God is BIG!!!! (This is maybe my favorite thing about God... every time it makes me fall in love all over again.)
• God calls us to do nothing to discredit His name... and that's a big task!
• Prophecy and the Bible is actually NOT up to interpretation - God had only one meaning and one purpose to His word.  (This is not to say that discussion should be squelched, or that His word isn't worth reading over again and again because there are many layers to things, but rather that each of those layers and facets to His word has only one true meaning as God intended.  It is up to us to figure out what that is.)
• This is all temporary.  The book of Revelations is my comfort many days.  

Brides and Hatred

Church Membership has been on my mind lately.  Mostly because I'm contemplating becoming and official member of a church here in DC.  I've always (ok, not always, but definitely the last 5 years) had a huge issue with organized religion.  It wasn't always that way; I grew up in the church, and I remember through 5th, 6th, 7th grade telling people that I actually enjoyed going to church.  Weird?  Maybe. A good thing?  I don't know.  Maybe - it led me to a lot of suffering, but ultimately was part of the Great Symphony.  Even after having "re-discovered" my faith, I found it hard to find myself comfortable in a church setting.... After everything I'd been through, I just wasn't entirely sure I wanted to put myself in that situation again.  For a while, I thought, "well, I believe, and that's good enough.  Some people need a church community, for some people it fosters growth, but not for me.  I don't need that.  I can just believe by myself, after all, this is between me and God, right?"  (In retrospect, that was just delusional... as an extrovert, regardless of it's biblical context or necessity, I need community.)  Once I realized that the Christian faith was not supposed to be lived out in caves by ourselves, I thought to myself - well, I have good Christian friends, I can talk to them, enjoy time with them, and that will just be my version of church, my community, I don't need a formal church to be a part of, because that only leads to problems.  I can have my own church.  And for a while, that was fine.

And so I just lived with a lot of anxiety, a lot of fear and anger and avoidance and resentment about the church built up inside me - mostly fear.   But then, spontaneously, God convicted me that church was, in fact, a good thing (I've not the slightest clue about how God was able to change my heart like that - it literally happened instantaneously, He convinced me that this was so and that I was never going to be afraid of church again.  What?!  This is a question I plan on asking when I get to heaven...).  And that it was maybe something I was going to need out here, all by myself.  And so instead of God asking me to overcome my fear, He just took it away.  Which in a way, was even scarier... But suddenly I didn't have any excuses anymore.  And so I decided that I needed to start looking for a church.

And then God put one in my lap.  It's this great place called Restoration church.  It's super close to campus, people there are wonderfully nice and welcoming, and I already feel like I'm at home there (which, I have to admit, is still a weird feeling).  And they do formal church membership, which involves a class and some other stuff.  It was weird to me at first, because even though I grew up around church, not every church has formal membership, or a formal process to become a member, and since mine didn't I really had no idea what to expect.  So I went to the class just to see what this whole thing was about.  It was interesting.  Different.  Challenging.  Open.  Thoughtfully and tactfully put together.  And during the process, we discussed the biblical foundations of church membership and the church as a whole.  It wasn't something I'd thought about (or liked the idea of, really), that God not just gives us the opportunity for, but actively demands and expects that we be part of a church...

But I was listening to a sermon yesterday about the church, and the pastor discussed the church in the context of 3 analogies commonly used in the New Testament - the family, the body, and the bride.  At the very end of the sermon, in discussing us as Christ's bride, he used the analogy of someone walking up to him and saying, "Gosh, J.  I really like you, you're so funny and smart - I really hate your wife, D. - but you're just so awesome!"  I wasn't following until he equated it to us saying, "God, I love you but I hate your bride."... ouch!  I'd never thought about it that way before.  And it then occurred to me that Paul's analogy to the body of Christ is similar - a Hand cannot expect to survive alone... it can't even survive if it's near a body, or occasionally interacts with an Eye and a Toe... but rather it must be attached to an entire body to even be alive, much less thrive and be active.  The hand can be cut off to preserve the body, but the body cannot be cut off to preserve the hand.

So I don't know if i will officially be a member of Restoration or not - I'm still praying about that one.  But I am more convinced than ever that the church, although flawed, is essential.  Body, here I come!

Random Update #2

The creativity in me is coming out... I am going to try to update you in 10 word sentences.  Exactly.  It's a creative challenge for me, and pragmatically keeps this update short (and maybe somewhat amusing as I try to summarize my life).  I'll put them under categories so that you know what I'm talking about:

ENTERTAINMENT/RANDOM:

- GLEE IS BACK and my life is now complete again. 

- Singing in the shower is problematic with other girls around. 

- Rain, rain, stay here today, I love when it's cloudyandgrey. (It didn't rhyme if I didn't cheat!...)

- I have a new painting that's (almost) done (pictures soon)!

- I love seeing my Daddy lots, because I love him.  :)

- Broncos are slightly disappointing, but they'll always be my team.  :)

CLASSES:

- Biology tests really freak me out... and there's one tomorrow.  

- Said Biology test means I should study instead of this.

- Shoutout to Chumley - I think I rocked my Lit Midterm.

- Sensai: She's a tough girl, hit her harder! Me: *smile/cringe

- Breaking a board with my hand is still VERY intimidating. 

- Sociology equals moody, depressed, fired up; Sociology equals restless Katherine. 

- Spanish test today should've been easy, think i did decently.

LIFE

- Feeling foolish - forgetting God doesn't gently ease me into things.

- Contemplating official church membership because I think I need it.

- I love me some nutella pretty much every single day.

- Not working out much as I should, having fun instead.

- Want a job coaching again, because I love it lots!

- Needing a little kid fix, I miss all my munchkins!! 

- Food is decent, I love mexican and grilled cheese.

- Wishing football and church didn't interfere, makes my life hard.

- Thinking it's weird that you people read and enjoy this! 

That's pretty much all I can think of at this point.  Much love to you all! I love phone calls if you're ever feeling bored.  :)

One Word Changes Everything

"God loves us through the good times and the bad."

How many times have we said that, or heard that?  Having grown up in a church, I've heard that statement, or some derivative of that statement a thousand times.  Think about that statement for just a second.  What exactly does that mean?  Until a few days ago, I thought it meant probably what most other people think it means - that even when things get hard or messy, and even when our imperfections come out, God still loves us.  It's a pretty astounding realization, no matter how many times you hear it; that a perfect and perfectly holy God could still want to be a part of our utterly unholy lives.  Kinda cool, no?  The God who made the entire universe loves me - not just me as a number, but ME.  Amazing.  And it would still be so cool if it just stopped there.

But it doesn't.  Think about that statement again.  "God loves us through the good times and the bad."  Normally, when we think about this statement, we think about the "through" part as being passive.  But this is not a passive God I'm talking about.  This is not a God who sits back and just watches, this is not the god of Deism, this is not a God who is comfortable just observing the universe as a trivial chess game full of expendable pieces while he sits back in his comfy cloud-lay-z-boy recliner in his great grecian robes with the corinthian columns supporting his great house behind the pearly gates.  No, this is an active God, a God who directly and deliberately intervenes in our lives.  And so what does that mean for a God who "loves us through the good and the bad"?  It means that "through", that crazy word we throw in the middle of that statement, is active.  God doesn't just sit back and Love us while we heal ourselves through the grief and agony of our friends dying, or through the trials of a divorce, or through the challenges of financial troubles.  No, this is a God whose Love is what pushes us through the bad times.  This is a God who actively Loves us and transforms our hearts, whose Love is that thing that turns "through" from a word that means while, or during, to a word that means that His Love is the one constant in a world of chaos. And isn't it amazing?  God, a Holy God, could Hate us through the good and bad, or Shame us through the good and bad, or Anger us through, or Force us through, or any other number of things that would be completely justifiable (because He is, after all, God).  But no, He chooses to Love us through.  Love.

Now read that statement again:  "God loves us through the good times and the bad."

Amazing!

Shuttle Reflections on 7-year-olds

So I took the shuttle today from campus to Tenleytown (for those of you who aren't aware/familiar with DC, my campus is located about 3/4 of a mile from a metro stop (the Tenleytown stop), and, since I'm paying out the ass for my education here, the school was nice enough to provide regular, free shuttles to and from Tenleytown. Hurray!) to go to CVS and run some other errands.  It was a quick, easy trip, and fairly uneventful.

When I got on the shuttle, the only seats available were in the back, so I headed back there and sat down, only to realize that the seats along the back are a tad bit higher than the other seats in the bus, and that they seem to lean back just a bit...  Which was fine, I just scooted myself back a little and sat back to relax for the ride, and make a list of everything I needed so I didn't forget anything.... only to realize that my feet didn't touch the floor!  Which was awkward at first, but then fun.  And of course, being the thinker I am, I spent the ride contemplating this odd situation rather than making a list... Here's what I discovered: That when your feet don't touch the floor, it's awkward because this is an experience you haven't had since you were about 7.  Which made me giggle a little bit to myself.  For the last year I've been acting, thinking, and speaking like an adult - partly just because I am actually growing up (crazy thought), and partly because most of the people I work with are crazy and immature, and somebody had to be mature enough to say "hey, you, stop flirting with your boyfriend and watch that little boy whose about to drown, I don't care that you're in love with him, save the small child!" and other things of that nature, so I had to turn off the adolescent part of my brain and turn on the adult part.  And once I got here I discovered that it was harder than I thought to turn OFF the adult part of my brain once it was on... I had a hard time switching mindsets back to a normal 19-year-old college student. (I did, after about two weeks, make the transition and it's been fine.) And here I was, sitting on the bus and feeling a little kid.  And watching the other girl who was sitting next to me with her feet swinging as the bus bounced and stopped suddenly and turned sharply, trying so very hard to cover up the fact that she felt really awkward with her feet swinging like a game of Jello in the mountains too.  And I smiled.

Oh, and discovery number two: it's also very hard to cross your legs when your feet aren't touching the floor... which I'm pretty sure is the reason the guy across from me was laughing.  Moral of the story: oddly high bus seats make everyone's day a bit brighter.  ;)

My Superpower

I'm the strongest person in the world.


I've now been through 4 classes of Sociology, and in case you didn't read my last post, it's my favorite class!  But it's also very very challenging, and I find myself asking some daunting and very very hard questions during class.  I wanted to share some of them with you:

1. Newspapers over the last decade have dropped from a 10th grade reading level to a 3rd grade reading level.  Why is our society continually lowering the bar to the lowest common denominator, rather than raising the bar and asking people to meet a standard?  How do we fix this problem?  No Child Left Behind is a perfect example of a government-sponsored act involving this phenomenon... How do we reverse this thinking?  
2. Economically, Capitalism MUST grow or it dies.  Stability is not an option in Capitalism, only growth.  But... is there a limit?  What happens when we reach that limit?  How can we preemptively stop this from happening?
3. Because America is, in fact, one of the few (partly because of it's unique emancipation) former colonies that has achieved a developed state and economic power by following a western modernization model, how does this affect our worldviews, and more specifically our charity views?  
4. How should/can we interact in a completely globalized system WITHOUT increasing the gap between rich and poor?  Is there a good model from history, or do we need to develop a new world model?  How does corruption affect/play into the global economic system?
5. What's the best model for charity?  How does one suggest you should go about helping other undeveloped countries without damaging their political, social, and economic structures?  Has this ever been successfully and practically implemented?

These are just a few of the biggest and most daunting questions I've come across in just 4 days of class.  And although this is exactly the sort of thing I want to spend my life dealing with, from a classroom standpoint, it seems absolutely daunting.  And completely impossible.  I love this class - it's provocative, it's perfect for me, it's about questions and thinking and people and government and harmony.... And yet every time I go into that class thinking, hoping, questioning; during the class, it's a roller coaster that takes me from anger to apathy to compassion to humility to shame to pride to frustration to apathy again and ultimately to sheer confusion;  by the time I come out of the class, I have no idea what it is that I'm feeling other than extreme and consuming hurt.  And it makes me ask if it's worth it.  To let it hurt, to make me cry and want to hit people and scream and go live in a hole where I can just pretend that none of this exists...  Is it worth it?  

And then I remember the collage I'm working on, with one of my favorite quotes of all time.  It goes like this: 

"What is, therefore our task today? Shall I answer: "Faith, hope, and love"? That sounds beautiful. But I would say--courage. No, even that is not challenging enough to be the whole truth. Our task today is recklessness. For what we Christians lack is not psychology or literature...we lack a holy rage--the recklessness which comes from the knowledge of God and humanity. The ability to rage when justice lies prostrate on the streets, and when the lie rages across the face of the earth...a holy anger about the things that are wrong in the world. To rage against the ravaging of God's earth, and the destruction of God's world. To rage when little children must die of hunger, when the tables of the rich are sagging with food. To rage at the senseless killing of so many, and against the madness of militaries. To rage at the lie that calls the threat of death and the strategy of destruction peace. To rage against complacency. To restlessly seek that restlessness that will challenge and seek to change human history until it conforms to the norms of the Kingdom of God. And remember the signs of the Christian Church have been the Lion, the Lamb, the Dove, and the Fish...but never the chameleon." 

And then I remember the famous verse -- With God, ALL things are possible.  ALL things.  Not just the things that I see are possible, but literally anything.  I could be invisible if God chose to make me.  I could have any super power in the world.  But my prayer today is that God can give me the power of super-human strength.  My weakness becomes His strength, and in Him, my strength.  I pray that God will give me the strength to let it hurt more than anything in this world, that God will continually be my guide, my companion, my rock and my salvation, that God will fill me with His spirit, and that I can do whatever it is that God calls me to do with His strength.  I will not change the world.  I will not be famous, I will not win a Nobel Prize, or be on Oprah, or become a famous author, I will not become some icon of peace or world harmony.  But I will change lives.  And I will love people with all of my heart, and when I run out of my heart and my imperfect, limited love I will give them God's perfect and limitless love.  I will be the strongest person in the world.

And the Vertigo Begins to Kick In...

Alright.  Wow.  I've had a LOT going on the last 2 months, and no time to write about it!  (Well, ok, thankfully I've had some time to write for myself, otherwise I'd be certifiably insane, but no time to condense/filter it and put it into a blog post.... sorry folks!)  Also, in the process of one of the biggest changes I've experienced (and very much still processing that...), I've hardly had any time at all....  AH!  So, this is going to be a not-so-quick update in the form of bullet points because my brain is running WAY to fast to actually formulate full sentences, much less articulate and meaningful paragraphs.  Also, my brain is running a million different directions at once, so this is probably going to seem very disjointed and chaotic... just bear with me:

• - I'm perpetually amazed, awed, and somewhat frightened by the things God has been doing in my life.  Not just in the past 6 months but in the past 19 years.  The way he has orchestrated this crazy, sometimes hellish symphony that is my life continually blows me away and brings me to tears.  I know it seems silly to say, but only God could have been responsibly for such a terribly beautiful thing.  
• - Part of me wants to give up regular school and just go to seminary to revel and grow in who God is, but then I go to Biology class and remember how much i love/hate/love secular classes too... Damn conflictions.  ;)  
• - On the note of biology:  OH MY GOSH THAT CLASS MIGHT KILL ME....  I haven't been in school for a year, much less a hard science. And my professor is covering all this crazy chemistry stuff that makes absolutely no sense to me (thank God for biology coloring books that are simultaneously semi-fun and educational...), all of which he says is the foundation for biology and we'd damn better understand it through and through or we are going to fail the sememster... SHIT!!   Oh well.  Guess I'll be spending a lot of time going to office hours... :/  (On a happier note, it is actually VERY interesting! And I keep reminding myself of my goal...)
• - I decided today that I'm dropping my Gov class for something (ANYTHING) else.  Doreen - THANK YOU for teaching me about government because clearly this lady can't.  And, thank you for treating me like I'm actually an intelligent human being.... (I'd forgotten what it felt like to be condescended towards...) (is that how one would say that?  Condescended to....?  condescended on...?)  I have decided that I am not going to pay a bajillion dollars a year to take classes that I hate and make me frustrated, especially since I don't have to.  Therefore, I shall choose to empower myself by choosing to put myself in a happier situation, and I shall exercise my right as an American, a student, and a human being to say - I will not do this anymore! 
• -  For those of you who were wondering about my other classes:  Spanish is bueno, but not coming back to me as quickly as I'd hoped.  I'm making mistakes that I don't think I've made since about 6th grade, so.... A little discouraging, but hopefully I will remember it at some point.  My martial arts class is SO COOL!!  Way harder than I thought, but I could totally see myself getting into this sport very seriously. Sociology is absolutely my favorite class ever!  It's all about History and the third world and people.... Ah!  So cool.   
• - The masters program here practices at 5am.... And I've been trying for the last 2 days to get up and go swim with them to try it out, but damn 5 is early, especially when one has found themselves staying up until 1 and 2 every morning.... :/  Going to have to figure that one out.  
• - My duvet cover is my favorite part of my new room.  :)  (and my wall collage that I'm working on... I'll put up pictures soon.) 
• -  I miss my puppy.  And Moose and Honey... :(  
• -  I've worn my Toms almost every day, and I'm looking forward to the tan line I'm going to (maybe) be getting....  
• -  On the note of feet:  I have been completely pain free since July 30th.  I don't know if it's permanent or not, and I pray that God will use this experience and whatever related ensuing experiences are on their way for His glory... 
• -  I'm still very much in the midst of processing this very large move, and I don't exactly know how I feel.  
• -  We cannot get anything to stick to our walls (We think it might be the fresh paint, which is nice that our rooms were just redone, but sad that nothing will stay up....), so I still have a bulletin board sitting against my bookshelf that needs to find a way to be hung (I think I may have found a solution, I'll keep you all posted).
• -  I don't know who all knows this, but I adoped a WorldVision child.  His name is Hassen Muhammed. He's 9, he lives in Ethiopia, and his favorite subject is math.  Please keep him in your prayers.  
• -  The more I am here and learning, the more I am convinced that I do not need a degree to do what I want to do.  But the more I think and pray, I am also convinced that I do need this experience.  So I'm currently struggling with this limbo.
• -  Although I've been here for almost 2 weeks, this place still does not feel like home.  I don't know if any place ever will.... 
• -  I have decided that there are some things about me I need to get cleaned up before I date, so don't expect to be hearing about any boyfriends this semester.  End of discussion.
• -  I miss my best friend desperately.  And although we are both in good places - Did we seriously have to go to school on opposite sides of the friggin' country?!?  :(  
• -  The further I get away from high school I realize a couple things.  One - I was so miserable for so many reasons!!! But now I'm not, so happy day.  Two -  there are so many relationships that I haven't maintained for one reason or another, but there are very few people from high school that I wish I talked to more -- I can count them on one hand.  And this does not make me sad, remorseful, melancholy, or even nostalgic.  
• -  I get to walk around my campus and hear anywhere from 3 to 12 foreign languages being spoken per day.  It's kinda cool... :) 
• -  I cannot wait for Glee to come back.  Sad I know, but seriously, I love it.  :) 
• -  I am finding myself getting very antsy and restless, but in a very different way than ever before.  
• -  Mom, I know you're not going to like this but I pray every day that God will find a way to send me to the most impoverished, war-torn, ugly places in the world.  To places filled with hate, with anger, with brokenness and imperfection, and I pray that God will use me there.  I pray that God will guide me and use my inhibitions AND my ambitions for His one singular goal.  I was not built for comfort, and so I pray that God will spend the rest of my life making me uncomfortable.  (Ha! As if the last 6 months hadn't shown me, this isn't exactly something I need to pray for, God is going to do it whether I like it or not)
• -  I keep going over in my head the best way to re-arrange my room without messing up my new wall collage.... and it's hard.  I'm thinking I might need to put it on the window (Which would be super cool since there's tissue paper involved, but super hard to move...) 
• -  I know that people have been pestering me for pictures about my dorm room for quite some time now, and I sincerely apologize for not having them up earlier, but I promise I will get them up by the end of the week!
• -  I think there is a very good chance that my body is addicted to sugary things... this is a problem. And I'm finding the absolutely delicious chocolate chip cookies at TDR very, very hard to resist.  
• -  I'm struggling with realizing and defining my gifts, both spiritual and non, and seeking God in those gifts and how He can use me.
• -  I'm finding that my life (both in the past and now, though in significantly different ways), is becoming dichotomously defined by pride and shame.  And that, my friends, is a very difficult challenge to overcome, as I am discovering. 
• -  There is a hurricane headed this way.  I've never experienced a hurricane before; I love rain; therefore, I'm a little excited because I think by the time it gets to me (and because I'm far enough inland), it's going to POUR!  Yes!!! :)

And on that delightful note, my friends, I shall end this somewhat kerjumbled and slightly ridiculous post.  I hope you all feel slightly more updated -- I know I feel better!  :)  I'll try to post more frequently in the future.

Much love to you all.  

Goodness

This was going to be my last post from Colorado, but things got a bit out of hand during the packing/getting-ready-to-move process, and so it will be my first (and possibly only) post from the lovely in-between stages in North Carolina.  (For those of you who aren’t aware, I left this morning from Denver to fly to North Carolina to look at schools for my sister and pick up my aunt before driving to DC on Wednesday.  So I’m going to be spending the next 3 days in limbo between parents “home” and new school home.)  Ironically, this post has almost nothing to do with moving, nor with packing, school, or anything else of the sorts.  It’s actually an update from a few weeks ago, which I should’ve posted earlier but just haven’t gotten a chance. 

I’m sorry if this is repetitive for some of you, but for those of you who are relatively new to my life (or to this blog), I will try to catch you up as concisely as possible (although for those of you who know me, that may not actually be the case…)  J I grew up going to the Episcopal church on a VERY regular basis, and grew up a “Christian” but never really had true faith, in part because I didn’t know what true faith looked like.  I thought that what I had was a solid foundation of faith but I was really just a pretend Christian, trying to live a good life without the presence of the Living God in my heart. During high school (in part because of my desire to distance myself from my parents, in part because of internal struggles, and in part simply because of the rigor and structure of the Episcopal church), I pulled away from God.  I was an atheist, then an agnostic, then an atheist again, then a doubting Christian, then just confused.  I was still forced to go to church, but I found my faith decreasing every time I went. Then, in part because of a series of people, in part because of life circumstances changing, I found my faith again.  It was a miracle, and I’m still not entirely sure how it happened, but I found myself craving God and His life, I just didn’t know how to get there.  I only knew that I didn’t want the Episcopal church (not that anything’s wrong with the Episcopal church, I just struggle with organized religion, particularly when it’s that organized and structured.  It’s simply not how I process, interact with God, worship, or commune with other people.)

Then I met M.  She’s amazing.  I love her to death, and despite the fact that I’ve only known her for a relatively short time (just over a year, I think…), she’s one of the people I’ll miss most in my move to DC, and she’s somebody I plan on staying in touch with for the rest of my life.  She’s a friend and, in some way, a mentor to me (if she’s up for dealing with me for the rest of our lives…haha).  Her story is incredibly similar to mine in many ways (though not all), and in talking with her about faith and God and church and life, we found similarities in the way we thought and (more importantly) felt about all these things.  I’ve come to trust her and her judgment a lot.  She first invited me to her church (Mile High Vineyard) at the beginning of the summer, but that’s not what this story is about.

This story begins one Friday, when I got of work to a text from M inviting me to a conference her church was having, that she and her sister J were attending.  Although that’s not normally something that would be of great interest to me, I found myself feeling like I really wanted and needed to go (in retrospect there was clearly a reason).   I rearranged some things and made it to M and J’s house in time to carpool to the evening session for the conference.  Despite my newfound faith, I still struggle with doing things that are even remotely connected to “organized religion”, and so waking into this group of people was a challenge for me.  I thought that perhaps God was going to use this time to show me how good His people can be, that I don’t need to be afraid, and that I can, in fact, be a part of a good church home.  I thought this was going to perhaps be God’s way of easing me in to finding a good church.  I should’ve known how foolish that was, God does not ever “ease” me into anything – if I’m not throwing myself headfirst into something, then He certainly will!   The talk, although not a “set-your-soul-on-fire” sort of talk, was from a couple who lived in Beirut for 13 years doing ministry, and I found it interesting and informative because that’s the part of the world that God’s given me a heart for.  I thought perhaps God was going to use the active ministry after the talk to reveal something to me.  I was simply trying to be open to whatever God had to show me on that particular evening.  At the end, the leadership group came up and said that before worship, they had a few people that they felt called to pray for. Sidebar: for those of you who don’t know me, I have chronic pain in my legs from a bone structure deformity that causes my feet to collapse and things in my ankles, shins, knees and hips to wear wrong.  I’ve been struggling with chronic knee pain since I was 7, and I’ve also been struggling with severe shin splints for over a year (which is a very long time), and Friday was excruciating.  I’d actually cried at work earlier that day, partly because of the pain and partly because I was simply so damn frustrated with the pain.  Back to the story:  One of the women from the leadership team said that God had given her a vision of someone there who was struggling with intense foot pain, particularly in the arch of their foot. Well shit.  I guess God is simply going to talk to me in front of an entire conference of people.  I had a fast argument with God going something along the lines of: I can’t go up there! Go! No! Go! No! Go! Fine!!!  Knowing that J and M were there for me was enough of a comfort to motivate me outside my comfort zone, and so, scared out of my mind, I went up.  A very nice man from the leadership/prayer team joined me, and we talked and prayed for about 10 minutes.  I could feel a distinct difference in my legs between walking up and walking back, but it was still painful: just a different kind of pain.  During the course of praying, my ultimate prayer was that God would simply do His will: if there was a way for him to take away my pain and physical suffering, that He would do it, but if it was a weakness that I was meant to have, then so be it, that He would give me the strength and the perseverance and the patience to deal with it.  I woke up the next morning completely pain-free, and I have not dealt with any sort of pain since then except split-second moments when I am being boastful, prideful, or taking credit for something that belongs to God.  It is, I think, God’s way of reminding me who is really in charge, and that He IS powerful enough to do absolutely anything!   It’s an absolutely indescribable feeling, and in a way very exciting.  I’ve never experienced physical (or instantaneous) healing from God, and I find myself discovering new facets of my faith through this experience.  I know that God can allow me to be in pain again anytime, and that ultimately I must stay humble and remember that God is GOD and my savior.   But, I was able to climb 3 fourteeners yesterday, and although I am sore and exhausted, I am experiencing absolutely no pain whatsoever from my feet, ankles, knees, or shin splints.

Climbing yesterday was one of the absolute best ways I could possibly imagine saying adieu to Colorado, I was able to enjoy the company of good friends, and more importantly, the intense and unique beauty of Colorado that God has created.  If you’ve never climbed a mountain, I highly recommend it – it’s an addicting and exhilarating experience, and to experience God’s beauty and grandeur in that way is incomparable to anything else! 

I thank God every day for rescuing me from that pain and for allowing me another chance at life, and for giving me back opportunities that I wouldn’t have otherwise had.  It led to a perfect goodbye, and a perfect start to a new life in which I can begin anew.  But most importantly, it has become a part of my Living Faith, ever changing.  It seems as though just when I think I am full of God, He steps just a bit closer to the light and suddenly, He exposes a new facet of Himself and His perfection, and I find my whole world turned upside down. 

I can’t wait for my world to be turned upside-down again.  

Emotions

My goodness what a week it's been.  It feels like a month ago that I flew from Denver to Washington, DC for what I thought was to be a simple orientation.  How surprised I am to find myself 3 days later on a plane back, feeling as disoriented and overwhelmed as if I just came out of a tornado.  Turned around and upside down, although I'm now upright and back on my feet I'm feeling disheveled, unkempt, hazy, and wandering aimlessly.  I'm sure part of that is from the stress of an airport mishap, but alas I feel as though I should start at the beginning.  Forgive me for the lengthiness of this post, but as I said - a lot has happened.

I left Denver on Wednesday morning for what I expected to be a simple and somewhat mundane orientation for school.  Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to be starting school again, especially in Washington, but I do in fact feel quite prepared, and I went to orientation simply because it was required, not because I really truly felt the need to get myself… well, get myself oriented.  I left Denver feeling quite comfortable about moving to a city where I know just one person (my uncle, who happens to live right outside DC), getting myself around on the Metro, readjusting to school life, making new acquaintances - I feel as though throwing myself into new situations is something I do often, and I'm comfortable with the uncomfortable-ness of it.  The flight in was easy, I found my way around the Metro from the airport to school no problem, got checked in, got my room (and, delightfully, my roommate, who would prove to be a valuable and enjoyable companion for the remainder of the trip), and all set to venture out for dinner with a group of students to simply get to know each other.  Everyone at dinner was new to the city, new to the school, and we all got along well.  We laughed, hung out at a delicious restaurant, walked to get some fro-yo (delicious!) and despite the 80% humidity (which is going to take a LOT of getting used to, and a lot of patience for dealing with my ridiculously thick and curly hair), we enjoyed walking back to campus and talking along the way.  Everyone was a bit tired from their journey - I actually met another girl from Colorado who went to Arapahoe, and a girl from Colorado Spring, so I was not the only one who had been up all day traveling, but we enjoyed each others company to the extent that a group of strangers who are thrown together can.  We arrived back on campus, hung out for a bit, and then went to bed fairly early to prepare for Thursday, when the real orientation would start.  Day one:  Comfortable and Confident.

Thursday morning we woke up, my roommate (Tea) and I got ready (neither of us are particularly preoccupied with out appearance, so it only took us 30 or so minutes to get ready and get over to the dining hall for breakfast).  She and I found ourselves getting along quite nicely, and although we were in different orientation groups, we spent much of our free time together.  Neither of us had parents at the orientation; she's from Chicago.  Most of day one was spent in an auditorium listening to presentations about things I'd already heard - communication is key for getting along with your roommate, you're more responsible for your education, nobody is going to chase you down and get you to do your homework, don't forget to check your email, here's all the ways you can get involved, blah blah blah.  I know that many people come from many different schools and some people may not have heard all this information before, but having come from a large high school where more than 90% of the graduates go straight to a 4-year university, I've pretty much heard it all before.  And despite being bored out of my mind, it was exhausting.  Sitting in the same room all day, listening to people talk and talk and talk at you, trying to sort pertinent information from non-pertinent information, and trying to remember countless names and faces and where people are from and who I've told what about myself and what they've told me about themselves - honestly it was all quite exhausting.  Good, exciting, and happy.  But exhausting at the same time.
What I discovered on Thursday (it's something I'm still trying to wrap my brain around…) is that this past year has forced me (and uncomfortably so) to be comfortable with myself being alone.  High school was about ignoring my real self and trying to find someone else, somebody who I liked better.  All along I knew who the real me was, somehow I've always known, but in high school I ignored it, buried it so deep inside layers and layers of lies and ignored realities and hurt and anger and confusion that I couldn't find it.  It took all my friends leaving the area, some new people to enter my life and some old friends to leave it for me to start digging through those layers and layers of deceit.  I spent a year living on my own - not just out of my parents house and on my own (mostly) financially, but really truly alone for me to uncover everything.  It was painful.  It sucked.  It was hard.  There were lots of sleepless nights, lots of restless nights, lots of nights trying desperately not to fall back into old habits, ridiculous indulgences that I tried to cover the pain, but in the end everything was dealt with.  Everything was exposed, uncovered, revealed and understood.  And that took being alone, truly and utterly alone, for me to get to that point.  And now that I'm completely comfortable with myself, I can be alone, I can be quiet, and I can be comfortable.  It's and odd and sincerely disconcerting experience, because it's not something that I've ever experienced before.  I cannot explain how odd it is to consider yourself an extrovert (and not just a mild extrovert, but someone who craves people and interaction and relationships and discussion and dialogue to an extreme), and find yourself completely comfortable being alone.  In some ways I feel like a stranger to myself because I am still rediscovering this person that is myself, this new and comfortable and insecure and confident and passionate and broken person that I am, and yet somehow I DO know this person, this seeming stranger and yet somehow it's like looking in a mirror for the first time and truly seeing who I am.  This is new to me.  I suppose it's a good thing, but still, it's not something I realized had happened until 2 days ago. And great re-evaluations about yourself always carry some amount of confusion, adjustment, and strangeness.  Day 2:  Dazed, Befuddled, and Excited for a new chapter.

Friday was less crazy on the informational side - after discovering how bad I (and a newfound friend, Ezekiel) are at Wii games, thinking hard about myself, my new situation, and all the variables that go with moving to a new city 3,000 miles away from the place I've called home for so long, bed and sleep was both a welcome respite and an unneeded distraction.  But, eventually exhaustion won over and I did sleep for a solid 5 or 6 hours.  On Friday, we had less presentations to listen to and a little bit more free time, and more individualized attention.  I met with my academic advisor to discuss scheduling, sports, credits, various requirements, and other logistical things, and found myself thinking hard about solidifying a plan for school.  It was a very interesting and perplexing paradox of messages I got from Fridays schedule - one side said that I always needed to be thinking and planning ahead, calculating what classes I needed to take and what I wanted to do and look for internships and jobs and start thinking careers… The other side said that I should take my time, that I didn't have to make a decision right away, that I should explore and take classes that interest me and do things like play and study art and soccer and go to parties and make new friends.  Very very perplexing.  And I find myself surrounded by ambitious, intelligent, passionate people, many of whom know exactly what they want to do - they've got the next ten years of their life planned out on a timetable.  And with that comes my wondering… why?  Can't I be here for the simple value of the experience, something to add to my repertoire of experiences and conclusions and relationships and decisions that define and shape who I am and what my place is in this world?  It's an expensive way to get there, yes, but it's the path I've chosen.  I appreciate the assumption that I will be able to graduate in 4 years, but what if I choose not to?  What happens then?  Am I less of a student for it?  Less ambitious?  I want this experience to be one that refines my soul and my being, creating me into exactly the person that God has intended for me.  That, truly, is my only pursuit in life.  Everything is a derivative of that simple goal.  And so I hope to enter this new experience, this new city and place with the expectation that what is, is, and what will be is simply there because.  That's the only reason I need, and that's the only goal I have.  Take it or leave it.  Day 3 part 1:  Determined, Stubborn, and Conflicted.
Friday afternoon I travelled on the Metro back to the airport.  A bunch of girls from Jersey/New York were headed in the same direction as me to catch a train back home, so we rode the metro together, and I found myself enjoying the company of people that I'd never met before that particular moment.  I love that in this community, people can meet each other and instantly be friends simply because of circumstance.  Beautiful.  I arrived at the airport a bit early, so I got some food, sat at a booth with an outlet, plugged in my computer, and relaxed to comfortably watch some tv before boarding my flight.  Long story short:  After hearing that the Chicago airport was closed (I had a layover there to get home), talking to ticketing, much miscommunication, hooking up with my roommate to have some company, and getting myself situated with a few plausible backup plans, I find myself stuck at the Washington Airport for 5 extra hours. Bummer. Finally the long delayed plane arrives in Chicago.  Although the original plan was to make my connection, which had also been delayed, a mechanical problem on the ground in Washington set us back further than expected, and I found myself stranded in Chicago for the night.  Magnificent.  Thankfully, my mom (who I informed of the situation back in Washington), had spent the time I was in the air trying to find me a hotel for the night.  When I landed, sure enough, all the hotels near the airport were full, but my mom's overprotectiveness and diligence paid off - she found me a cheap taxi company, a room about 15 minutes outside downtown Chicago, and reserved me a room.  Fanastic.  There were no problems getting to the hotel, falling asleep (by the time I got to that point it was almost 3am), getting checked out or getting back to the airport.  And Chicago, now sunny and fair, is getting flights in and out smoothly.  Perfect.  Day 3 part 2:  Stressed, Bored, and Exhausted.
Interestingly enough, I found myself completely comfortable thrown into that unexpected situation.  I've flown alone before, plenty of times, and I am completely comfortable alone finding my way around and handling myself.  But having to change flights, get a hotel, and being stranded in a city I've never been to before were all new experiences.  And yet oddly, I never found myself uncomfortable or afraid.  I was actually particularly annoyed by my mother's overprotectiveness and her initiative at taking care of all the logistics in Chicago for me - my fierce and unrelenting need to be independent is something that doesn't ever go away, and more than anything I hate being coddled.  Until I remembered a couple things 1) her working out all the details while I was in the air meant that I didn't have to do it on the ground, and I got more sleep.  And, 2) I had to remind myself that it's not because she doesn't believe that I can't do it myself, she's just trying to be helpful, and to take care of things for me.  She would've done the same for my father, or for her sister - she knows that I am capable, she was simply trying to help.  And I still have trouble asking for help - I think it may be something that I struggle with all my life.  It's who I am, how I was raised, and something that is incredibly difficult for me to let go of.  I am not good at asking for help when I need it, or even accepting help when given freely, needed or not.  Day 3 part 3:  Frustrated, Relieved, Thankful, Annoyed, and Self-Conscious.

At the airport today I decided that I love airports (I sort of always have).  Although they are a sign of wealth and occasionally extravagance, they are also a symbol of opportunity, of cultures meeting, of very very different people from all parts of the world mingling, a reminder of how big the world truly is, and yet of how small it can seem.  A delightful paradox of so much that, to an extent personifies human nature.  I love the ride - the taking off and feeling like you are being rooted to your seat, the earth pulling you back and the sky beckoning upward.  Defying gravity and seemingly the laws of nature, of watching your shadow get smaller, the people get smaller, feeling contained and yet unleashed.  You get to watch people and cars get smaller and smaller, although it's so gradual that you don't entirely realize the magnitude of your height.  Suddenly a cloud will pass underneath you and you realize how high you are.  Then you hit some turbulence and you are delicately reminded of how fragile your state actually is.  Looking out the window you can see the random geometric grid pattern of fields and harvests come and gone, the crazy suburbia homes with their prefect cul-de-sacs and the backyard pools, and the exploding cities that seem so full.  The flying, the noise, the bumps, the smell, the cramped-ness of the bathrooms, the people talking, the people sleeping, babies crying, couples holding hands, siblings sharing a magazine, the overly friendly people and the not so friendly people.  The slightly absurd plastic cups, and the SkyMall magazine that sells overpriced and impractical, albeit creative inventions. It's a strange place to find a collection of so much that contains who we are, and yet it is as the same time exciting and exhilarating, a nearly complete containment of who we are and what it is we value most.  Day 4:  Peaceful, Pensive, and Content.

:)

Women and Glee

Alright, I'll admit it, I'm a Gleek. (If you are too, or think you might be someday, and haven't seen the last 2 weeks' episodes, you should not read any further - there are some spoilers!!)  I wholeheartedly follow the show.  I think it's witty, biting, hilarious, and relatable.  I think it deals with important issues, but somehow I walk away from the show feeling uplifted every week.   I refuse to make plans on Tuesday nights, so that I can watch the show.  I have to remind myself regularly that I really don't need to buy the music the night it comes out, that I really should wait until the end of the first season when they'll come out with a whole album of the music, which will be cheaper (somehow that appeal to logos doesn't overpower my love of good music, and I sometimes give in and buy songs anyways).  I think the vocals are fantastic, and the script is original and has started to "push the envelope" with issues.  It's a show that I can watch and say, 'hey, that was me in high school! I've felt like that, I've done that, or I've seen that.'

Over the last few weeks, a recurring theme in the show has focused partly on objectifying women, body image, and self confidence.  Its an issue that's very near to my heart, as I have struggled with it my entire life, I've watched friends struggle with it, and I've seen what it can do.  I fell in love with the boys' new rendition of "What it feels like", with Mercedes' "Beautiful", and with April Rhodes' journey.  My heart breaks for them, and soars with them, and I find myself traveling this same journey with them, an invisible bystander who watches with pangs of guilt, remorse, anxiety, compassion, empathy, anger, and almost every other emotion possible.  There are many issues that I feel passionately about, but this is one that stands out.

And it was an issue that I thought was progressing well, on a worldy scale, until recently.  I thought that, despite the incessant and sometimes unrelenting teasing and attacks on my strongly feminist stance, that people were making progress, that people were aware of the issue, and that many people, both men and women, were working to equalize an unbalanced count of centuries of oppression.  Then I met C.  He happens to be a guy that  I work with (i'm using an initial to protect him, even though I don't really think he deserves protecting…), and he and I disagree on almost every topic you can think of.  He regularly attacks me for my religious beliefs, my moral stances on issues, my political views, the fact that I enjoy reading, and the way I think.  He takes great pleasure in pointing out holes in my logic, in giving me impossible scenarios, in cornering me, and proving his own intelligence and the black-and-white validity of his own views over others'.  He's very good at what he does, and frankly, he sometimes is right.  More often than not though, he twists what I say into what he wants to hear, and rarely gives others a chance to fully explain their views.  He thinks he knows what he's going to hear before he even asks.  Normally, I don't mind.  I can stand up for myself, I can handle teasing, attacks, and the endless looks of pity and stupidity from him.   I had my walls up, he doesn't know nearly as much as he thinks he does, about me or the world.  And nothing he's said has convinced me that he truly is correct, and that I need to repent from my ignorant ways and turn to his cold,  harsh, atheistic view of the world.  So I let him attack and he takes full advantage.   And I don't really mind.

Until this week.  This week everything changed.  Somehow we got around to talking about body image, in the context of Glee (which, surprisingly enough, he watches regularly).  He laughed at my outrage, scoffed at my standards, and seemed arrogantly perplexed when I told him that yes, in fact, the idea that there are people who still think that men and women should not be treated equally bothers me.  He then proceeded to tell me that I was, in fact, wrong about what women need.  He said women don't need to be told they're beautiful.  That women who are more than 5 pounds overweight, who are ugly or who don't fit some beauty standard shouldn't feel beautiful because they're not. He told me that he shouldn't be socially obligated to lie to women about what's attractive (I don't think he's distinguished beauty and hotness yet…), women should not be told they're beautiful, nor should they feel beautiful about themselves if they aren't.  He insists that being beautiful SHOULD be objectified, and standardized, and related solely to external attraction.  He insists that it's a good thing for people to not have their self esteem "falsely" boosted, that feeling judged and objectified and inadequate and unworthy is a good thing, that it's not ok to tell a woman that she's ok the way she is because in all likelihood there's something wrong with her, something that needs to be fixed before she can be beautiful…. He told me that people are not created equally and that not everyone deserves to be loved.  He somehow tied this "falsifying of beauty" to the collapse of America, but to be honest I'd stopped listening by the time he'd gotten to that place in his speech.

I can't express how outraged I am- it's difficult for me to stomach!!  It physically sickens me to think of things this way; I didn't let on when he was telling me all this, but I wanted to hit him, and had we not been "on the clock" I would've.   I wanted to clock him so hard, to knock sense into him, to tie him to a chair and duct tape his mouth shut and yell and scream and cry at him until he understood.  I actually did go home and cry, for what he's failing to see in himself, in everyone around him, and for the hurt it might have caused.  I wanted to take all the broken pieces from all the women he's ever objectified and glue them back together.  I wanted to explain to him how insanely hard it is to be a girl, how he could never understand how much it hurts,  how when people (men or women) objectify and judge other women, it makes ME feel objectified and judged, even if they haven't said one thing about me.  I wanted to show him my scars, internal and external, to show him how much pain it can cause, and how much damage it can do.  I wanted to make him understand, I wanted to make him feel the way I've felt, the way I know many other women have felt, and then ask him to honestly hold the same stance.  I wanted to show him the movie Precious, the scene where she says nobody loves her, and play it over and over again until his heart was shattered for her.  I wanted to take a hammer and smash his heart like a mirror, and ask him to put all the pieces back together like women have to do every single day, I wanted to logic with him, reason him into seeing my side but that's the problem that there is no logic to it, it's all about the feelings, I wanted to make him feel it to see it to believe it to hurt it and feel the glory of it when you're no longer restricted by the world's view of you and show him how low and excruciating it can be and how high and beautiful it can soar.  I want him to see that all women are beautiful!! But he won't.  He refuses to see my side.  I want to write him a letter, but I don't know what to say.  I want to explain things to him but how does one explain such deep, complex, and vast emotions?  How can he ever see my side if he refuses to feel my side?!?!

And so I cry.  Because I don't know what else to do.


*Here's the script and a link to a youtube audio feed of the epitome of the last 2 weeks of Glee.  Please watch.   Or better yet, go to Hulu.com and watch the full episode (if you want to watch just this part, it starts at 33:00)

Mercedes:  Hey guys.  I'm Mercedes Jones.  So most of you know, Cheerios! is about perfection and winning, looking hot and being popular.... well I think that it should be about something different. How many of you at this school feel fat?  [Quinn, the pregnant girl, raises her hand].  How many of you feel like maybe you're not worth very much?  Or you're ugly and you have too many pimples and not enough friends? [more kids are raising their hands].  Well I've felt all of those things about myself at one time or another.  Hell, I've felt most of those things about myself today.  And that just ain't right.  And we've got something to say about it.  And if you like what we have to say, come down here and sing it with us.  

Here's the youtube "video" (it's really just the recording)

God is so good!

I'm so happy right now it hurts.  Not just a surface happy, not just a temporary, fleeting, mountaintop happy, but a deep, resounding, consuming happy.  So happy that I feel the need to sit still and just soak in the happiness!!!  

It's taken 19 long years, but I'm finally on my way.  I OWN my own faith, I FEEL it and LIVE it and not just say it.  It's been quite the rocky journey to get here, and it's taken some losses and some hardships and sometimes God just stepping back and letting me fall on my face over and over again.  But I'm here now.  I'm old enough and smart enough to have learned how to distinguish between the church and my own faith.  I've got a REAL relationship with God, not just one that's surface.  That's defined by what other people tell me. 

I grew up in a home where we don't talk about a whole lot.  It's not necessarily a bad thing, if you're like my parents who are introverted and don't normally process things by talking and exploring ideas with other people.  But I'm not like that.  If I'd gone to them with a concrete question, with a confusion or with something that I'd needed to discuss, I'm sure they would've been open to discussing it with me.  But I never really learned how to do that growing up.  Which is probably why I tend to be so closed off.  So I grew up trying to process my faith without community.  Without talking.  Solitarily.  And my faith was one that, though I tried, I never really owned.  I never knew that it was ok to not have a particular day or moment when I just handed my life over.  I never knew that it was ok that my life wasn't a compelling testimonial about a reformed drug addict or something. So I tried to make it like that.  And I tried to pray the way they did in the books.   I read a book that I didn't understand because I didn't know how else to feel righteous.  I drove people away with an over-zealous outward expression of my "faith", which in retrospect was a compensation mechanism to feel closer to God because I didn't have any other way.  I was so good at saying the right things and being holy and righteous, but I didn't know what I really stood for.  I didn't live it - I just pretended.  Thank God for my best friend, who saw who I was, but also what I could be. Who I could be.  And she loved me.  Regardless.  

Then I hit my sophomore and junior years of high school.  Things started changing. People started changing.  So slowly I didn't even notice what was happening to me, to the way I viewed the world.  People who I thought were my friends weren't anymore.  I got dragged into the middle of fights between friends.  I was involved in some fights of my own, mostly with my parents.  I started reading books for school and thinking about the things they were saying.  I found myself wondering, first about if I really believed what I was saying.  Then if I ever could believe it.  Then I thought about how dumb people were for believing that God could save them.  Then I thought about how dumb people were for even believing in God.  I didn't.  For a long time I didn't.  My best friend was still there.  Unconditional love.  

I was forced to go to church, which only drove me futher away.  I sat and listened to most sermons and listened to people sing worship songs and then gossip during the peace, I listened to judgement being unfairly passed, I heard the message that I wasn't good enough and never would be (which, although partly true, was carried to the extreme).  I heard the message that being a Christian means being eternally happy, that you are not allowed to hurt. 

I hit a rock-bottom at the end of my junior year.  But that wasn't my returning point.  I mean, it was the beginning of the end, but it wasn't the beginning of the beginning.  I started re-examining my closet atheism, but I wasn't a believer.  I had been ashamed - first of my doubts and then of my conclusion.  I hid it from everyone.  I still acted the part I knew I was supposed to.  But I started thinking again.  

Somehow, by the Grace of God (because there truly is no other explanation), I found my faith again.  I started reading my Bible.  I started reading other books.  I started talking to people.  And I stopped pretending and started being real.  I admitted doubts.  I talked to people.  I started living my faith in a community - first that started with me and that ever-faithful best friend, and then expanded to more and more people.  It's only been in the last year that I can truly say that I am a devoted Christian (though the label sometimes still makes me cringe).  I can say that I've defined my faith not by the church, but by my own relationship with God. That's where my faith begins and that's where it ends.  I'll go to church sometimes, if I feel called.  I need to find a church that fits my needs, not my parents needs.  But I have a relationship. I can talk to God.  Not just pray and walk away, but actually talk to Him.  Listening and talking.  Give and take.  A real relationship.  

And thank the Lord I had my best friend there.  Otherwise I might not have made it.  

And it's the only thing, the one and only thing, that gives me strength, that gives me this lasting, secure, and profound happiness.  God has blessed me so greatly with this life, with these friends, and with His Great Grace and Love.  And I am so eternally Happy!!!  

Precious

So I just finished watching the new movie "Precious".  It's something that I've been putting off for a long time - I thought it was going to take me hours to get through, that I was going to cry through the entire thing, and that it was going to leave me emotionally and mentally exhausted.  I've been waiting for what I thought was the right time to start it so that I could fully absorb the story and the film.  Turns out I was wrong about just about everything.

I'm still processing the movie, from both a cinematographical standpoint (Slags' teaching will never ever let me just "watch" a movie again without noticing every film detail), which I really don't think I liked, and (being the writer I am), from a screenplay standpoint, which I'm undecided about .

I'll start with the filming.  It seemed to be half documentary half omniscient storyteller, which threw me at some points during the movie.  The POV didn't seem consistent, and it felt like it distracted from the story, from the acting.  And this is a story that, no matter who the director, producer, writer, cameramen, animator... even if you had the dream-team, the story is carried by the acting.  This is not a story told through cinematography.  The cinematography can only set the mood and carry the transitions of the story.  The emotion and the heart of the story is in the faces and the voices.  And so the cinematography seemed.... off.  I know that it's closer to Tyler Perry's style, and since he did play a role in the making of the movie it makes sense, I'm just not fond of it in this particular context and story.

The screenplay is written from a book, and seeing as I haven't read the book (and thus this is my only understanding of the story), its harder to make a call about whether or not I like the way the screenplay tells the story.  I'm biased toward the book (I always am), but this particular writing seemed... too fast almost.  In order for the story to be powerful, the characters needed to be more drawn out.  I wanted to see more vulnerability from Precious, from Ms. Rain, and from some of the other students.  Those few scenes were by far my favorite, and I think that could've carried the story further.  I've never been raped by my father, or abused by my mother, I've never been on welfare, or been illiterate as a 16-year-old.  I've never stolen food, I've never had children, I've never been in any situation that even comes close to comparison to what Precious experienced.  I needed to see the more broken side of her to really understand, to make it powerful.  Because what moves me isn't watching other people be raped and abused (the act itself I mean), what really, really gets to me is when it breaks them.  When they cry afterwards.  Or when they cry the first five times and then after that they stop crying because it hurts too much.  I needed to see the progression from the inside - this felt like I was watching from the outside.  And if I'm supposed to be watching from the outside, tell the story from the point of Ms. Rain, the woman who is trying so hard to break Precious' walls down, to convince her that someone really does love her. I understand why they did what they did, I just don't think it was the most effective way to tell the story.  And the ending felt too... good.  What about the girls whose stories don't end happily?  What about them?!

I'm still processing from an emotional, mental, spiritual and human standpoint too.  And that, although more complicated, is also a more concrete reaction.

I cried more during "Freedom Writers" than I did during this movie.  Not that FW isn't a fantastic movie, or that it isn't worth crying over because it absolutely is, I just expected "Precious" to be more tear-provoking. It wasn't.  

The one scene, however, that did make me cry, also made me want to explode with Love.  It inspired an all consuming, fiery, indescribeable passion (dangerous as this may be for me) to try to love every single person that exists.  I know that it's impossible, to know 7 billion people and love them, but there are moments like this when I know that I have to try, that it is a pursuit that will carry me until the day I die.  Isn't that supposed to be the only mission that God calls us to in this life anyhow?  To love the way Christ loved.  And that's my goal.  That's all I want to do with my life - the rest is just details.  I will Love because He first Loved me. 

I am Love because Love resides in me. 

I am Love.  And so it is Love I will pursue, recklessly and relentlessly.  

I Am Love.