My Year In Experiences

I was updating the document on my computer with all the numbers I have saved in my phone last night, and I realized the last time I'd dated that particular document was December 27, 2008.

I started thinking about my last year and what all I've experienced:

Physically, 2009 started with me freezing in my above-the-garage apartment in Vancouver. In August, by contrast, I was sweltering and beating off bats in my quarters in a 100 year old farm house. I've been running consistently through 2009, including back country logging roads in WA, high altitude camp roads in Yellowstone, near an airport in flat west Texas, across finish lines in Hillsboro, Seattle, and Elma, around a lake in Longview, through horse pastures in Vancouver, and in a neighborhood in Boise.

I've slept in hand carved beds in a villa in Mexico, on trains and buses in Egypt, on cots, bunkbeds, double, queen, king beds, on the floor, on couches, in my car, under the stars near cows, and in tents.

Artistically, I've taken countless photos, spent hours at the piano playing old classics and composing new tunes, I've written papers and letters and thank you notes and emails and text messages and blogs and journals. I've started dabbling in painting again, I've developed countless lesson plans, and finally sort of figured out how Windows Movie Maker works.

I've read some great books "for fun" and got bored with some "assigned" readings. I've re-fallen in love (again) with the Psalms, Phillipians, Colossians, 1 & 2 Thessalonians, 1 Peter, Hosea, Lamentations, Proverbs, and John. I've read student papers, books on faith, books on relationships, books on communication, books on social issues, and an unknown number of online recipes, news reports, commentary, and blogs.

I've made many new friends, drifted apart from some old ones, and said "goodbye until eternity" with another. I've spent countless hours on the phone and skype talking to far away friends, IM'd with worldwide friends, and chatted over coffee or tea with geographically close friends at any given time within the 24 hours of the day (except maybe for the hours between about 3 and 5AM - those should be reserved for sleep).

My hands have held new babies, hugged people hello and goodbye in airports, escorted an elderly french lady, cut hair, wiped tears, high-fived, tossed toddlers into the air, changed diapers, petted horses, cows, dogs, cats, and camels, assisted dental surgery, cleaned kiddos teeth, made unnumerable cups of chai tea, started a fired and cooked over it, and shaken all sorts of hands on four continents.

I've been frustrated, happy, confused, thankful, sad, joyful, lonely, quiet, loud, prayerful, angry, hurt, humbled, tempted, victorious, broken, empty, healed, comforted, and very, very blessed.

This year hasn't been the hardest, but it's been challenging and strengthening. It hasn't been the easiest, but it's been delightful. I had no idea of what to expect when it started 362 days ago, but it still managed to surprise me.

I've learned more of how Jesus loves, and how I SHOULD love, and how inadequately I do. I've learned that I wouldn't cut the pain out of my life of out of my family and friends' lives, even if I could, because it would leave empty, unfunctioning, cavernous holes. Pain is part of love and life and beauty.

I realized the truth that God works in our lives and in human history in ways I don't understand and can't always see, but I've also realized that I "but see in part." This year I've especially learned to hope in a future wholeness that I haven't yet experienced and can't really even fathom, but someday I know I will.

I've failed, I've succeeded. I've seen others fail and succeed. I've seen hope and heard heartbreak. I've known disappointment and witnessed faith. I have loved, I've been loved, and I've rejoiced in others' love.

I've been selfish and proud a lot, and sacrificed and died to myself a little. I am, by no means, where I want to be, but I would not trade this process of reformation and refining and redemption for anything.

To each of you who have shared yourself or overflowed into my life or allowed me to spill over into yours - thanks. Thanks for the blessing of your presence, the joy of your company, the value of your conversations, the variety of your opinions, and the little ways you have shown me glimpses of God, whether you realized it or not.

May your 2010 be great!

Toast and tea, please

It's a brilliant Boxing day in the PNW and I'm comfortably ensconced in my favorite pair of sweats, a sweatshirt, and the cuddly scarf from my friend Virginia, sipping tea and eating toast on my parents' couch (right by the woodstove). Since Christmas dinners round #2 don't start for a short while, I figured I'd briefly update on the end of the trip...

From Dahab's sea-side glory (which we got to via a 12 hour bus that turned into a 19 hour bus - it was long. Very, very long. I thought our new friend Zeph was going to blow a gasket), after basking in the sun for a day, taking a salty dip in the Red Sea (so clear!) and eating loads of good Egyptian food lounging on waterfront couches at restaurants where we haggled (OK, Zeph haggled) for discounts on dinner, Claire and I adventurously made our way to Aqaba, Jordan.

After much deliberating, we opted to take the overland route from Egypt to Jordan. Although there might be future issues with Israeli stamps in our passports, I also figured that my passport was more than half full, and my next couple dream destinations are Argentina and India, neither of which should give me a hassle for having the stamp. By the time I get around to entering Saudi or Afghanistan, I'll probably have a new passport anyhow.

I was nervous about getting to Jordan, I'll admit. After almost 2 weeks in Egypt, I felt like we were getting the hang of things... Jordan was going to be a whole new experience. And it seemed more intimidating and scary than Egypt. But it wasn't. It was great! We met warm, friendly, generous folks in Jordan, and practically every single one of them went out of their way to make sure we were well taken care of - from our hotel manager who patiently worked with our ever-changing schedule, to the taxi driver who made sure to deliver us safely into the correct minibus, to our bus driver who kept checking to make sure we were still on the bus and still safe, to the grocery owner who had lived in the Jordanian embassy in DC and made a point to welcome us to Jordan... Everyone seemed slightly surprised and genuinely pleased that two American young women would travel to their country to see one of their famous sites.

Petra - the reason we went to Jordan - was absolutely breathtaking. We met some cool British dudes and hung out with them whilst wandering around for the day in the reserve. Took a mule ride, explored cliff-side dwellings, marveled at the legacy of carved splendor of the nomadic peoples who created Petra, gasped at the scenery from the "end of the world" view point, and ate fabulous salads at a buffet. Truly, the experience was worth every extra penny, every extra stress of details to get there, and every shiver from the cold wind in high altitudes.

Heading back through Israel poor Claire got a bit of an interrogation - I guess the guards were just bored and didn't want us to think we had it too easy. Catching transportation back to Cairo from Taba was a headache and a half - involving bus tickets, a Spaniard we didn't think was really Spanish but who turned out to be very genuine, haggling with a taxi, lots of sitting and waiting, a crazy (FAST!) drive through Sinai with constant cigarette smoke and very loud Arabic music. I finally got pissed off enough to yell at the taxi driver when he tried to charge our new Spanish friend extra to take him to Cairo - I guess I had just had it with their constant changing of plans and lack of communication with us and the general atmosphere that they could do whatever they wanted and we were powerless to make them do anything. Claire can attest to the fact that my yelling probably didn't do much good, but it was amusing nonetheless...

Our wrap up time in Cairo included some Christmas shopping, a bit more wandering around lost, a Christmas cantata with friends and a taste-bud-tour of Cairo... Hands down, Sahleb is my new favorite wintertime drink. It's made with flour from the tube-roots of orchid plants... yeah, who knew?! I'm going to try to order some online and use it for when Claire and I have an Egyptian party to share our trip memories with friends...

Our final stop in Paris was cold, cold, cold, but that was OK because we thought it was a good excuse to do a little clothe shopping. I had a french man assist me with picking out a pair of jeans and I do rather like how they look! I offered to be bumped to a later flight (Air France vouchers - heck yes!), so Claire took off and I had an additional 24 hours. I made a few friends, wandered around, got lost, took pictures, checked out various book shops... kind of my usual. My flight home was routed through San Francisco and the layover there was long (initially), but because of delays leaving Paris, it was shortened considerably.

Since I've been home I've realized I caught some sort of Egyptian bug that isn't shaking yet, thus the toast and tea to try to give my digestive system a break, and jet lag has screwed up my sleeping cycle so I'm sleeping about 4 hours a night with maybe an hour or two of nap time during the day, AND a head cold seems to have found me and set in, so my waking hours are spent sneezing and sipping lemon and honey concoctions, and my sleeping hours are spent choking on phlegm... Yeah, I guess you could say it's the not-so-glamorous side of traveling and pushing your body a little too far... but the memories are great, the photos turned out well, and the experience... well... what could beat the experience?! It's all worth a little bit of misery afterwards!

Pictures are posted on facebook and slowly being posted to my photo blog (link to the right "Shulkeshutters"). Thanks for following along!

Divine Romance

"The fullness of your grace is here with me

The richness of your beauty is all I see

The brightness of your glory has arrived

In your presence God, I'm completely satisfied.

For you, I sing, I dance

Rejoice in this divine romance

Lift my heart and my hands

To show my love

To show my love.

A deep, deep flood,

An ocean flows from you

Of deep, deep love

Yeah, it's filling up the room

Your innocent blood

Has washed this guilty life

In your presence God

I'm completely satisfied..."

My friend Anthony Vietti introduced me to Phil Wickham's music, and this song was one of his favorites and after hearing it due to his insistance that my life would never be the same, became one of my favorites as well.

Anthony lived a life dictated by his divine romance with our creator. He's encouraged, inspired, and challenged me to live the same way. His tombstone legacy is one of devotion, discipline, and dedication to his God. I hope mine will likewise reflect God's glory and goodness some day.

I find it no coincidence that I heard that the search for Anth and Katie on Mt. Hood had been called off on the very day I had to travel 2 hours in the back seat of a stranger's car through the Sinai desert. If there is a more harsh, unfriendly, awesome, fearful landscape, I've yet to see it. It felt a bit like my heart feels under the weight of the reality that one of the fantastic friends in my world won't be there when I get home.

That's always my fear whilst traveling, you know. The possibility of something markedly altering occuring when I'm gone, and having to come back to a different reality than the one I left.

And yet, somehow, it was strangely comforting to be in such a hostile place. Even as the tears ran down my face from under my sunglasses and left salty trails on my cheeks as the evaporated in the hot air from the window, I could look up to the towering cliffs around me and think, "My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth" and the Sinai peninsula is certainly a place on earth that God has used in the past.

He used it quietly in my life too. The desert always seems to be a place of transformation. Maybe I haven't been transformed, but my perception of what it means to live a Godly life has been shaken up and solidified a bit in the aftermath of Anth's life.

Of course, this hasn't all be bad and heartbreaking - the adventures continue, the laughter continues, and if there is any one single reason I believe I'm in Egypt right now, I think I met him in Aswan last week. God is working in and through my life and heart, I do believe that! But it's also hard to focus on some of the beauty and opportunity and immense blessing when I let myself get distracted.

Claire and I are off to get dinner with our British "husbands" just now at a sweet local Jordanian place down the street... So stories from our travels and boarder crossings and Jordan and Dahab will have to wait. Sorry! In the meantime, check out some Phil Wickham - he pretty much rocks!

Rolling Rocks, Wrestling Waves, Shooting Stars...

Tonight a storm rolled in to our sea-side town, which means the Red Sea is putting on a majestic show of crashing waves and white caps. I wasn't feeling in the mood tonight to sit at the waterfront cafe with Claire and Zeph and two Aussie gals we met to sip tea and smoke sheesha (OK, Zeph smokes, the rest of us sit around enjoying a touch of the apple flavored tobacco smell...). Something about storms adn the sea calms my heart and draws me to seek solitude. So I handed Claire some money to cover my part of the bill, made sure Zeph had my cell phone number, and wandered off toward the end of the boardwalk to find a people-free spot of rock to sit on and listen to the crashing waves.

The rocks were rolling under the pressure of the constant water movement, which kind of matches a bit of how I feel at the moment. These extenuating circumstances that are beyond my control seem a bit large and overwhelming right now - the weather on Mt. Hood, the chaos of the boarder control, the headache of figuring out which route is the best one, in terms of time and cost and experiential value... Sometimes the waves of life just seem to be wrestling with each other around me and I'm pretty powerless to control all the viarables.

But then I looked up and saw a shooting star in the little stretch of sky about Saudi Arabia that wasn't covered by clouds, and I remembered that even if I'm a rock in the middle of these waves, God is still SO far above and beyond and outside my little chaos of a world here... And that's deeply comforting tonight.

Our 12 hour bus from Luxor to Dahab turned into 19 hours, which means we missed all our connections. We've changed our itinerary as a result, cutting out one of the things we'd hoped to do, but when you only have so much time and so much money, somethings just have to give. It's a reality of traveling and life - and since one of the things we can't really control is the bus schedules, and we're not willing to pay for service taxis to get us everywhere, we'll just have to go with the natural ebb and flow of Egyptian culture!

Today we spent a couple hours laying on the beach, which was really, really nice. This place seems a bit like a vacation from our trip, as it's so laid back and touristy, you feel like you're not in Egypt any more, but rather in one of any of dozens of seaside villages. Calm and quiet suits me at this point!

Things aren't looking good for my friend Anth. The critical 48 hours have passed, which means statistically the chances of survival are slim. We're still holding out hope (and faith in a Mighty God!), but I also know peace with whatever outcome - Anth and Katie both know where they'll be spending eternity, and I know I'll be part of the crowd someday, so as much as I want them to be found healthy and well, I also know that the ending of the story will be great, regardless.

But yet... I still want to be able to return Anth's bright orange osprey backpack that is carrying all my belongings in it right now when I get home. And I still have his Anatomy book on my shelf. And so many great hymns to discuss with him. And I want to tell him about Zephyr and the conversation I had this morning at sunrise. And I want to show him pictures of hot air ballooning and the temples at Karnak. As one of my most supportive friends for traveling and adventuring, it somehow seems that the possibility of returning home and NOT getting to share these memories I've made with him makes this trip slightly less valuable to me.

I think I'm thankful I'm not there right now, though. At least here, despite that I'm a couple steps behind the information and news release, I have other things to distract me.

Like the little old Russian lady who came down and stood next to me at the tip of the waves this evening for 20 minutes. She didn't speak a lot of English, and my Russian is nonexistant, but we manged to have a bit of a conversation regardless. After she put her hand on my shoulder and stroked my arm, saying, "Good luck - with trip. Good luck - with life!" and walked away, I wondered, "Does she know she is loved? Does she realize how much I appreciated her companianable silence just now? And the small attempts to talk to me? Does she realize that I wish I could bless her in some way? Does she walk away feeling more lonely after talking to me? Or is she talking to God right now and praying for me as she goes back to her apartment?"

How I fail to jump at the opportunities to share Jesus! I'm sure I could have said something - done something, sign language, ANYthing! - to find out where she stands in spiritual terms. But no, I just stood there and selfishly enjoyed her quiet presence, rather than trying to reach out.

Lord, help me realize the opportunities and divine appointments you set in my way. Remind me to be prepared to be Your example of love to the people I encounter, regardless of my mental preparation time.

I always wanted to be an archeologist

Checkin' in from Luxor here... This'll be quick because, well, I've got adventures to undertake and things to do and amazing food to eat, and since I don't want to waste too much time staring at this screen rather than being out there DOING it, I'm gonna keep it brief... Actually, I'm just tired and really want to go to bed! But since we probably won't have internet access for a couple days, I thought I'd say hello.

So... Hello!

We went to the Valley of the Kings today, and climbed down, down, down into some hot, stifling tombs. The plaster and paintwork is really incredible to see, considering it's about 4,000 or so years old. The site itself is just weird though - it's on the West side of the Nile from Luxor (ancient Thebes), and it's this incredibly dry, barren, hilly plot of land. There are tons of tombs built into the mountains, and they're STILL discovering them, because seriously, it looks like nothing is there! Although I've always thought Lara Croft was kinda cool, I'm really not sure I'd want to be a tomb raider too badly. It looks like kind of creepy work! And some of the traps they laid for any theives is seriously scary.

Thus I've concluded, I'll stay legit in life!

What else is new?

We're becoming big fans of sailing in feluccas on the Nile at sunset. Tonight our captain invited us to a Nubian wedding, which we were planning to go to and met up with him at the appointed time, but apparently a woman was killed tonight in an automobile accident, so the party was cancelled.

We spent the whole day with our new friend, Zephyr (the person, not the wind), and I'm pretty sure he saved us beaucoup bucks with his bartering skills. His conversation contributions aren't bad either! ;-) He'll be hanging with us at least through tomorrow, since his itinerary matches up with ours for a few days. It's nice to have a guy to get all the conversation and hassling attempts directed to. My job seems to be to just sit back and laugh at how he deals with it! However, I'm a lLITTLE concerned with his bartering preoccupation, since he almost traded Claire and I off for 165 camels this afternoon... Hmm...

My visa card froze for awhile the other day, but I think things are working out now. It was a little scary... but fortunately I have a backup account at a different bank which I was able to pull cash out of. Poor Visa - they get so confused by my traveling!

We're staying at this awesome place that pretty much thinks it's Bob Marley's home in Egypt. I was a little intimidated at first (so many pictures of pot!), but it's perhaps the most super-chill place I've stayed in this whole country... And probably the best price too! Don't worry, though, we checked the tea they served us before we drank it. To be honest, I'm not sure I'd know exactly what I was checking it for... but I feel better knowing I did check it!

Last, we spent the day yesterday at the police station trying to get re-entry visas (not the plastic kind - the passport kind) into Egypt for when we leave to go to Jordan. It was a pain - also very "everyday life for Egyptians, I think - since it involved a lot of sitting and waiting in the police station passport office (and an extremely emotionally scarring trip to the public bathrooms!), but we were successful in our endeavors, which means we won't have to spend 6-8 hours at the boarder trying to do the task there!

We're off for an early morning hot air balloon ride tomorrow, so we're going to hit our non-marijuana-hay now so we can get up! Tomorrow night will be a 12 hour bus ride, followed by another 2 or 3 hours, followed by another couple hours, so if you think of it, you can pray for our poor tail bones! They'll be feeling rather abused.

ALSO, please pray for my friend Anth... I'm keeping loosely in the loop via email updates: he's missing on Mt. Hood with one of his friends. The third person in the party was found dead last night. He's an experienced climber and has a good head on his shoulders, but nobody can control the weather or a lot of external, unforseen forces. Pray for the families, the search and rescuers, and him and the other climber.

Will write more when I can!

Moments....

Egypt is not so much a holistic experience for me, but rather a random collection of moments that seem to creep on tiptoes past the surface level of my consciousness and slip through dusty, dry cracks into my heart. Here are a few of my favorite so far:

- Awkwardly trying to figure out what actions are expected of me upon arrival at our housing in the "Windsor Palace Hotel" in Alexandria.

- Standing so tightly next to a car full of headscarfed and/or veiled women on the metro in Cairo that loosing my balance is impossible when the train stops.

- The sunrise over the eastern desert from the inside of a van of sleeping tourists on the way to the temple ruins of Abu Simbel.

- A conversation with our felucca captain, Ali, about what it means to be a "good" person and discussing religious stereotypes, marriage, and gender roles, and God.

- The dignified, kind Alexandrian lady who stopped to help us 2 blocks from our destination after we'd been wandering for at least half an hour.

- Stepping into the overwhelming vastness of the library in Alexandria.

- Fresh mango juice anywhere and everywhere we go.

- Not being asked for baksheesh, because we're women.

- Hearing "the four" multiple times every day: 1) "Hello! Where are you from?" 2) "What is your name?" 3) "Are you Muslim or Christian?" 4)"Are you married?"

- Service with like-minded believers in Cairo.

- Chatting with our new friends, Zephyr and Cody waiting at the police convoy.

- Introducing Petey to various amused onlookers.

- Laughing with Claire about all the funny, random situations and conversations we find ourselves in...

- Appreciating our personal police escort in Alexandria, including front door service to our train car... and knowing he probably just wanted to get the two American girls OUT of the station so they'd stop causing a diversion from normal traffic procedures.

- The gentle wind on the deck of the Felucca on the Nile at sunset tonight.

Le toilette?

Going to the bathroom on an Egyptian train is unlike anything I've ever experienced.

There are a multitude of factors to remember and consider when doing so:

First, I try to avoid touching anything. By "anything," for clarification purposes, I mean "everything" (except the packet of kleenex I discreetly tucked up my sleeve - that's probably OK to touch, but toherwise, everything... I'd probably catch hepatitis and typhoid and Polio at the same time!).

Second, I try not to let any article of my clothing touch any surface area. This is far easier said than done. Especially if you've attempted to adopt local clothing customs and your usual jeans and shirt have been replaced by an ankle-length skirt containing enough fabric to make a jedi cloak. And a shirt that could fit two fo you in it. And a headscarf that - of course! - immediately starts to unwind and flap its fringes all over the place the second I secure the door with two fingernails.

Imagine, for a second, that you are in my shoes (TOMS, to be more precise...). About the time you have the skirt secured somehow out of the immediate operation zone with your headscarf (check out that tactic - killing two birds with one stone!), you might brave a wary glance into the toilet bowl... and wish you hadn't. We'll avoid details - no need to ruin you day as well as mine - but you're free to use your imagination should you so choose.

At this point, like me, you might reconsider whether you really have to pee so bad... But, of course, it's 5:45AM, you got on the train at 9:30PM the previous night, and you've had to pee since the ticket guy woke you up from a fitful nap on your right shoulder at 3:30AM. Since you haven't been able to get back to sleep - which might have more to do with the fact that half of your derrier is numb from sitting on it, now that you think about it - it seems like there's really not any good reason to not venture an attempt at this accomplishement, since it will both alleviate your bladder's pain and allow circulation to reinstitute itself in the rest of your body. AND, since you've got another 6 hours on this darn train ahead of you, it'll break up the monotony of staring at the window that is so dirty you can't see out of it.

Don't worry, male readers, I'll spare you the details of further clothing maneuvering, but I'm far from done. Oh no, before I finish I want to point out the extreme amount of concentration it takes to balance, not touch ANYthing (and thus, everything), AND take care of business in a bathroom approximately the size of a Polly pocket house. Seriously.

And then we have the next issue: how to get OUT of the bathroom without touching anything or letting any of my clothing touch things (and no, I didn't forget to flush, I just didn't bother. I was too afraid of what might happen if I found the flush handle and used it... I don't care to become a part of a reenactment of Mt. Vesuvious...). Since my skirt's position isn't exactly even in the loosely defined category of Muslim modesty, as far as skirts go (with the present head-scarf tie-up situation), I have the important delimma to face of whether to a) release my skirt PRIOR to stepping out of the bathroom (and did I mention the bathroom is WET? It is. That might be from the last unwary flusher...), or b) to take the chance that nobody is in the hall and release my skirt AFTER exiting the W.C.

What to do, oh, what to do?!

I compromised. I arranged my headscarf in its proper headscarf position (might as well have half of my body be modest...) with my right hand, while I used my left ot hold my skirt up and off everything... Then I warily opened the door, peeked out, and - not seeing anyone - stepped out BEFORE letting the jedi-cloak-ish skirt go.

At least, I hope nobody was watching. As I reentered the door to my car, I realized that the mirror-type class I saw on one side wasn't a mirror at all, once I'd closed the door.

As I sit safely back in my seat listening to my Asian neighbor's classical music through his cranked-up headphones, I'm just hoping the early morning hour meant any other passengers were either asleep or too incoherent to realize they saw my hot pink undies...

Now if only I'd remembered hand sanitizer!

Awkward Moments in Alexandria

Awkward moment #1 - en route to Alexndria, Claire and I got to watch an Egyptian film along with a bus full of Egyptian folks exhibiting the contrast between Western women in the media and the real Western women I know... What I saw on the screen (lots of short skirts, a western woman using a blind musician for his money, gum chomping, and an accentuation of every single feminine curve) was a far cry from what I want to be known for within this culture. Of course, I like to thin that my skirt to my ankles and my long sleeve shirt and head scarf do SOMETHING to alter that perception of women, but the sheer number of cleverly coy lines Claire and I hear indicate our example will most certainly not be enough to change preconceived notions.

A.M. #2 - Alexandria is rather short on budget options, so I accessed Orbitz and got a discount on a very nice hotel when I was booking our sleeping arrangements... That all sounded well and good until we showed up at our hotel in our dusty clothes with 4+ days of non-showered hair, lugging our bright orange backpacks (Thanks again, Anth, for letting me borrow the Ospray - it's working great!). We not only had to pass through metal detector at the door, but we also had a luggage-man whisk our baggage away, and private hostess welcome us, and flowery vase-like glasses of fresh lemonade pressed into our hands - and that was all during the check in process!

We had a very awkward few moments of standing in the lobby with our lemonde glasses in our hand, waiting to be told what to do, while the hostess stood next to us, waiting for us to finish the lemonade ("Oh, this is for US? We were just going to hold it... Wait, are we being charged for this?"). Eventually Claire and I clued in to the fact that AFTER we drank the lemonade we'd be shown to our room... I doubt I've ever gulped ice-cold liquid that fast!

The one UNawkward moment of today was the taxi ride (for a change...). My latest tactic for getting the best prices on taxis are to pick the most devout Muslim drivers I can find... They know Allah is watching their every action, so they don't even dare overcharge gullible tourists... Thank you, Lord, for small blessings!

We were kidnapped by camel riders today...

[Side note: when I sign onto blogger, everything is in Arabic, so it's always a challenge to figure out what boxes to put my email address and password into and which buttons to click... but Arabic is a beautiful looking language!]

Claire and I had all sorts of adventures getting out to the Pyramids this morning, including a metro ride in a car tightly packed with head-scarfed and veiled women (the first several cars on the metro trains in Cairo are reserved for women only - it's sort of a neat little women's club in commute, I think...), hailing a taxi after we wandered through the University of Cairo campus, stumbling across the pyramids in the middle of Giza-suburbia, getting kidnapped (momentarily) by camel riders when they seduced us in by their scarf-tying abilities, the first marriage proposal of the trip (followed shortly after by another two), and getting scolded by the "Tourist Police" for wandering too close to an open chasm by one of the small temples at the Giza site. [And yes, my dear students, I know that is a ridiculously long run-on sentence... sorry.]

One of the things I instantly loved about Cairo is the traffic. I know, that sounds crazy, but seriously, if there is one word to describe Cairo traffic, it would have to be "fluid." Everything moves. We rode the public bus from the pyramids back to downtown (nothing beats public transportation prices!), and our bus driver was truly amazing... If someone says men can't multi-task, I'd gladly point them toward our large-eared, noble-nosed bus driver as proof of that erroneous statement! He managed to answer questions from police out his window, answer questions of people jumping onto the bus, continue to keep the bus moving, have multiple conversations with other drivers via his horn, twist and turn through crazy traffic and pedestrians, give change to two or three people at a time, AND yell at people in the back who got on without paying. Truly, he was remarkable. And the whole thing felt like a dance in fluidity.

In other news, Claire and I have discovered our new favorite drink, which is completely non-alcoholic and very, very tasty and healthy... It's pureed mango juice sold by this fabulous coffee shop named Cilantros... Seriously, if you're ever in Cairo, you've gotta try it!

We'll meet up with some friends of mine for dinner tonight, and then jetting out of town in the AM... I'll update when I can!

There's Something Poetic About Paris

... and something Crazy about Cairo!

Claire and I were hugged off from SEA airport by her family and boyfriend, and enjoyed an uneventful flight to Paris. Well, I enjoyed it at least - I'd slept about one hour total the night before, so most of the 10 hour flight for me involved sleeping. In Paris we adventurously figured out the train system enough to head into town. In typical Northwest fashion, Paris dumped all her charm on us in the form of rain as we were coming out of the St Michel station... In actuality, it made for a humorous introduction - Parisians everywhere were standing under doorways and on the built-in bench/foundations of old buildings, trying to avoid the water. My shoes were soaked through in approximately .47 seconds, and everything else was pretty soaked shortly thereafter... but that didn't stop us from a photo op in front of Notre Dame, a wander through a Shakespearean rare bookstore, and Claire's introduction to espresso from a cute little bar.

French, as I remember, is such an extremely beautiful language that it takes a lot to work me up to trying my hand at it... but try I did, as we both felt the need to purchase some French bread to enjoy whilst wandering. For the most part, however, we soaked up the french around us and charmed people with our smiles...

On the flight to Cairo I slept some more, but was having nightmares during which my sister (Heather) kept reminding me that I would need to be awake and functional once landing in Cairo. Heather was not the nightmare, might I clarify, but rather the fact that I had to keep waking up. By the 10PM landing time at CAI, my body was telling me I definitely needed some vertically-positioned sleep as soon as possible.

I forgot what it's like to trustingly place my life into the hands of a random taxi driver. That forgetfulness did not endure long, however, as Claire and I passed through passport control (after being rejected initially to go to the bank across the hall to purchase visas) and met a guy named Sameet who had my name on his sign. The ride from the airport to the hostel was the usual adventure I've come to expect from taxiing in North Africa, but since I was in the front seat, I didn't get a chance to see Claire's face...

The hostel is nice, other than the fact that the guy who checked us in seemed to be deficient in lifting his eyes from a position of staring approximately 6 inches below my chin... It's times like that when I have to fight the feelings of being helpless and frustrated due to my gender. Any men want to fly over and join us for the rest of the trip?! Not that we're incompetent, of course, Claire and I are managing fine, but I'm definitely getting annoyed with "friendly" offers of "help" practically every other minute. In fact, we've decided the most practical thing is to just not talk to each other while traveling through a crowd (which is... everywhere!), because the moment Claire or I opens our mouth and English words come out, we're being offered help to tour the "real" Cairo... or given directions to whatever museum we don't want to see... or pointed to a "really nice" store... Oh, and by the way, his family just so happens to have a shop just down this street and around the corner here, and since we'll need to buy gifts to take home to our family and friends, we really should follow him into the shop.

While I'm on that subject, does anyone want any perfume? We did go sit through one presentation of oil of essence, and I asked about my favorite perfume, Elizabeth Arden Green Tea, and was treated to a free sample drop on my wrists (which really DOES smell exactly like my bottle at home). I'd be happy to pick up a 1.5 ounce bottle of any of your favorites (Calvin Klein, J'Adore, etc) for the "too good to beat" price of approximately $10... And since there's no alcohol mixed in, it's nine times more concentrated!

Today's been fairly low-key, other than dodging helpful Egyptians, and so far this sprawling metropolis of approximately 20 million (!!!!) people is treating us fairly well. Our parents will be happy to know that Cairo is one of the least violent-crime plauged cities in the world (Prague made that claim too, though, if I remember correctly...). Don't worry, we won't be testing it by wandering around solo late at night (or even just the two of us), but it does FEEL fairly safe... other than the hassle of constant stares and comments. In light of that, though, Claire and I have developed rule #1 of the trip, which is: do not respond to any inquiries made in English. And since we really can't understand any other languages, it makes it pretty simple!

It looks like the line up of people waiting for the computer is getting excessive, so I'll sign off... But I'll try to update you, dear reader, with the events of the next couple days later on in the week.

Until then, m'sal'aam'a!

Running a Half Marathon is:

"10% luck,

20% skill,

15% concentrated power of will,

5% pleasure,

50% pain,

and 100% reason to remember..."

- Fort Minor

Three alarms woke me up this morning, set at 5:35, 5:40, and 5:45 respectively. Actually, the first one woke me up, and the other two were merely back-ups. I had wanted to be able to sleep and sleep well, and since I tend to get paranoid about sleeping through my alarm, I figured three was better than one!

Despite several "scenic detours" (never mind that it was before the sun came up...), and the laborious task of finding a parking spot in downtown Seattle, I was ready and set to go in the starting lineup by 7:15. My neighbor, Tracy, found me and we kept each other company until the air horn that signaled the commencement of the clock.

So what does running a half marathon sound like? The eery quiet of thousands of people of all shapes, sizes, and ages dressed in brightly colored, pulled-together outfits of comfort and practicality, with their feet pounding on the pavement of scenic roads. Or, at least that's what it sounded like when I paused my iPod.

At the start line it sounded like the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and cow bells and the highly-caffeinated announcer lady.

At mile two it sounded like people yelling "Water! Gatorade!" and the gasped "thanks" of runners and the crunch of wax-encrusted dixie cups being stepped on by the 147 people behind you.

At mile four it sounded like the traffic of I-90 on an overpass above us, and several thousand people running through a mile-long tunnel together that slowly heated up throughout the duration.

At mile six the gentle lapping of Puget Sound against rocky shores and the muffling affects of grey, Washington drizzle contrasted the cow bells rung by spectators. (Can we get some more cow bell here, folks? I NEED more cow bell!)

At mile eight through mile ten it sounded like Fort Minor's song "Remember the Name" which somehow just seemed to fit my feelings today, so it kept getting repeated.

Somewhere before mile thirteen I also got in some Lady Gaga, Flo Rida, Joy Williams, The Civil Wars, Damien Rice, N*Sync, Katy Perry, thebandwithnoname, Metro Station, Monk and Neagle, Andrew Belle, Rascal Flatts, Kanye West, and David Crowder, among others.

At mile thirteen, the friends and family of thousands of runners yelled encouragement as we pushed ourselves up the final hill and cheered and applauded us into the Key Arena Stadium to cross the finish line.

Hills, rain, crowds, camaraderie... Each influenced the overall flavor of today's race. Despite only getting in one eight-mile run last week (and otherwise no longer runs at all for several months...), I felt pretty good throughout the race. Miles eight and nine were the most challenging, but by then I figured I was so far into it, there wasn't any need to slack off early!

My official time ended up being 2:12:54... Which might not be my PR, but is still decent enough for me to be happy with...

Now for that dreamed-of full... I think I'll have to start planning in January!

Heavenly Moments

I sat around a table at Shari's last night for well over 2 1/2 hours without any comprehension of the passage of time. I arrived late and consequently ended up in the only available seat at the time (which happened to be the best one - smack dab in the inside, middle spot in a shallow U-shaped table).

As it so happened, my seat was ideal not only because I could see everyone in the party with little more than a turn of my head, but also because some insightful and encouraging and delightful conversations developed at my table over that brief interlude.

Gabe's handy iPodTouch came in useful during the discussion on postmodernism and it's origins, Nate Gr's perspective on the "boring" Christian testimony was encouraging, Nate Go's analysis of "depth AND width" in life provided nuggets to ponder, and Cody's relative position and discussion of parent/child relationships satisfied my desire to know if ANYone else out there understood what I feel...

But even more than the specifics was the feeling that surrounded the exchange at Shari's.

I've been studying a bit about heaven with the young-people's group I'm involved with. Last night we talked about what we think Heaven will be like.

When I think of heaven I don't so much imagine or contemplate the way it will look or the sci-fi-ish beings. Instead, I think of it like my Shari's experience last night... only way, way better! I think heaven will provide absolutely delightful conversations.

My best and favorite memories always involve conversations and the feelings of unity and understanding and sharing that come with real conversations. My "heaven on earth" moments are therefore countless late-night talks around a campfire at the Missions Conference... several early morning coffee-dates with my friend Laura or my friend Amber... one night when I crawled onto my little sister's bed and talked late into the night... another night when I sat in my older sister's bedroom floor talking... rides to and from Mexico in the youth group bus talking straight through the night... conversations on airplanes... drinking jack and cokes at my friend Melanie's with a group of discussers... whole days spent conversing with my cousins Ann and Charlie... hugging a pillow and drinking tea at my friend Sharnessa's house... sitting in my friend Anthony's living room and talking into the early morning hours... sinking into my friend Kindra's couch to talk over a cup of coffee... leaning on my friend Laura's counter in Rome...

I believe Heaven is going to be great because I will be in the very presence and essence of my beloved savior. In addition, I think it will also be great because I will be with all the people in the world from all of time who have also loved my savior. And we will not have the challenges and repercussions of miscommunication. Nor will we have differences of thought because of lies we've accepted as truth. Perhaps best of all, though, is that it won't end. We'll never have to say goodbye. No more hugs at the airport drop-off and turning to walk away, no more "good-night-I-can't-keep-my-eyes-open-any-longer," no more fear of caring and investing in someone because you know life will force you in different directions, no more "I wish we could talk longer but I have to go to work." Instead we'll have oneness of mind [How great is our God?!], oneness of purpose [Worship!], and oneness of home [A pretty grand city]... FOR-EV-ER!

Thus, moments like Shari's last night are so, so sweet... It gives me a glimpse of the possibility. A quick, blurred, fuzzy glance into my eternal future. And it's also sad. Because the contrast from what will be to what is now is so apparent. BUT, it's enough to help me understand the potential. And sometimes just understanding the potential of Heaven is enough to make these Heavenly Moments satisfying in and of themselves, even on this side of Heaven.

Muse on Songwriting

I am by no means an expert songwriter. In fact, I'm sure I can hardly be considered prolific. For me, songwriting is a combination of a discipline, an inspiration, and desperation. I find that when I turn introvert - not one of my most frequent exercises and yet a necessary practice for the attempted stability of my mental health - song inception is hardly irrational, despite the fact that my internal processing might be!

Music is not just entertainment for me - although that is certainly an element; it is enjoyable and satisfying to create from the smallest fragments of nothing, three or four minutes of a melody, an emotion, an experience. Rather, songwriting - for me at least - is much, much more. I can't say it is exactly a catharsis, because I don't necessarily purge myself of the feelings that engulf a song. Nor is songwriting a catalyst between my emotions and the expression of those emotions, because with every song I write, my understanding and grasp of the practice of crafting a composition is altered.

Rather, song writing is more a camera that snaps a photo of me. Of my heart, my soul, my emotions, my thoughts, my memories, my hopes, my dreams, my nightmares... The song, of course - a combination of melody and tempo and lyrics and harmonies - is the resulting picture.

I've written a number of songs recently, because I've been trying to slow down, pause, take inventory of where I am, and check that my internal Dani is in the same location, time, and situation that my external self is. This journaling, meditating, and developing art of being still and real before God is resulting in a desire - perhaps even a need - to acknowledge where I am. Where my heart is.

That, of course, is nearly as complex as a bowl of spaghetti slathered in con carne sauce... One recent creation is titled "May I," and it focuses on the romance of my Savior God toward me and my desire to not be swayed from purpose in his adoring gaze. Another, tentatively titled "Tragedy" I developed around a single quote from a friend during an intense conversation. I have the chorus for one worked out as a tongue-in-cheek, self-deprecating reminder of the blessings around me that my unthankful attitude often skews and thus obliterates from my perspective. And I just got up from working out the basic chord progression of what will be "Bri's Song," an attempt to musicalize (I just made that word up - the process of converting something into music) the emotions I've felt over the past five months as I've watched one of my best friends fall in love.

I love writing songs - transposing abstract and sometimes disorderly emotions and thoughts and perspectives into a time-oriented (and thus mathematical) developed craft. Songs make me vulnerable, though, and in that regards, they're extremely frightening. They're intensely personal. I think I'm generally not very closed-off and guarded, but I feel like my songs are akin to giving someone x-ray vision goggles. While I don't mind having an x-ray taken in a clinic for the purpose of diagnosing a problem, the idea of living constantly in that intimate, observable condition is frightening. Perhaps simply because I do not have control over it. Once these songs are set free of my brain and heart, I've released them. But no matter how far they go, they're also the super-highway directly into my heart at the moment the song was crafted. And that's intimidating.

The Civil Wars

I've been a Joy Williams fan since her debut LP, "Joy" showed up in my sister's Christmas stocking years ago. With every new release, she's been able to impress me with her ability to craft meaningful lyrics into moving melodies, hereby presenting numerous three-minute long experiences with art.

She took a break from the visible music scene for awhile, but that only gave her songwriting craft time to improved. Choosing to re-enter musicdom under her own label this past year, Joy has released numerous songs to her adoring fans which, essentially, seem to capture into musical snapshots the life of a learning, growing, searching, loving, hurting, journeying soul. I can relate to that exceptionally well!

The Civil Wars - a combination of not only Joy's stellar talent but also that of her friend John Paul White - has also hit the Indie music scene this year, which I'll be honest, until now I haven't delved into as much as Joy's solo productions. But that's about to change after seeing this video (their first official) of "Poison and Wine."

I absolutely adore the escalating composition, particularly the heart-beat like strum of the guitar. It seems like the frightening experience of loving and then facing reality with that love in its proper perspective is so aptly developed. The melody is haunting and the song leaves me with more questions as the final harmony fades than most pieces manage, and the setting of the video only adds to the mysterious beauty...

Ahh, the choices of love!

Middle School Nightmares

I used to be scared of throwing parties. Maybe that was because I never really threw them. My very first “real” birthday party was when I turned 16, and I threw it for myself. It wasn’t a complete failure, but I also don’t consider hypothermia a smashing success.

My greatest nightmare in middle school was probably similar to other people’s nightmares – showing up someplace and realizing you thought you got dressed, but in actuality you just didn’t notice you left your house butt-naked… despite the fact that EVERYONE else did notice. My second most significant nightmare had something to do with a fire and a giant pig chasing me, but since the details seem foggy on that one, I’ll move on to the third most common nightmare: I was afraid of throwing a party and inviting ALL my friends and having, like, nobody show up.

I have realized in my 21 years of life that it is time for me to get over some of these childish nightmares. I have even grown to enjoy and thrive on cooking without recipes because I’m getting over my fear of cooking a meal that flops (for the record, I made pumpkin soup the other day that resembled a pot of diarrhea when I flushed it down the toilet). I decided about 2 months ago that I wanted to get over my fear of throwing a party and having nobody show up. I mean, after all, all 534 friends on facebook have accepted my friend requests! Surely people like me a little, right? And even if they just came out of politeness, I wouldn’t know the difference, and I could BELIEVE that they all loved me enough to come! It seemed like a good idea.

I’d had a bit of a challenging week leading up to the party. And by challenging, I mean to the extent that I literally had water-works tears flowing down my face and neck and soaking the front of my shirt during a step-aerobic class. I don’t usually cry in step-aerobics or any other form of fitness class, actually. It was a strange week.

The party was set for 6:30PM on Friday and I’d had a fairly decent response from the 80+ people I’d invited. It was a formal, sushi-making, pre-Christmas, dance party theme. I had a fabulous dress, bought fabulous Christmas-y smelling candles, and decorated the house with (fabulous, of course) Christmas decorations. The sushi was ready to be made, other delectable treats were prepped, and… the attendee list was dropping; ALL day on Friday I’d had people phone/text/email/facebook me to let me know they weren’t going to be able to make it. By the time 6:15 came around, I literally had no strongly confirmed guests.

BUT, ever the optimist, I was dressed and ready to go at 6:30, waiting for the first guest. I waited. And waited. And waited. And while I waited, I tried to keep my chin up, but… I guess I’m just not so good at that. By about 6:45 (and this is humbling to admit!) I think I was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, in my little black dress and high heels, sobbing the mascara all over my face.

My worst nightmare came true: I threw a party and nobody showed up.

For 45 minutes, I felt pretty rejected! Then – God BLESS her! – my friend Katie showed up. Now, there are certain people that I wouldn’t want to see me in such a state of emotional distress and so clearly socially ostracized (and yes, I do not like to be humbled…), but Katie is not one of them… Why? because Katie and I share the same nightmare, and I knew that she would TOTALLY understand my absolute THRILL at having a guest show up!

As it turned out, another 5 people showed up over the evening (Mikinzi came at 11PM and when she saw no cars in the driveway braced herself for comforting me after what she presumed had been 4 ½ hours of Dani-sobbing-on-the-kitchen-floor moments – what a friend!), and on the bright side, dishes and clean up was a snap. And honestly, I know that God just had completely different plans for me that night than I had for myself – and they were GOOD plans, because he brought JUST the right people to be there and we had a great time. But I admit, it took me at least 24 hours to get over my crushed ideal of the evening.

I eventually stopped hiccupping from the crying sessions, I gave away, froze, or ate up all the leftovers, and, well, I still burn the Christmas-y smelling candles because I just love the fragrance of pine! But I have not quite worked up the nerve to throw another party. Someday I will – I know in my obsessive-compulsive tendencies to self-improve I’ll eventually realize I need to risk it again to overcome the fear… but then again, I had a nightmare last night about having nobody show up at my wedding (including an unknown groom…), and... well... I’m just not sure if I’m ready to handle that much rejection again anytime soon.

7,000 screaming girls...

I had a coffee date with my friend Amber back in September. That is not unusual for me to do - sometimes I think that coffee dates are my full-time job, and teaching is just how I support it... Although I still get overwhelmed when I have to order coffee because, basically, I just hate having all the options that coffee shops in the NW tend to cater toward. I mean, who REALLY needs to have to pick between whole milk, 2%, 1%, non-fat, breve, almond milk, and soy... and that's JUST the milk!!? Don't even get me started on the syrup flavors or how many shots of coffee, OR, if you're like the new shop that's opened on 14th Ave (ZoJo's), different ROAST types... Ugh, my head is swimming...

Anyhow, Amber and her husband Austin (aka: Nordstrom) are heading up the ministry division of a local church for the junior high kiddos. Since A & A/N also head up a ministry for 18-25ish year olds, they are kinda busy... I like junior high kids, I like A & A/N, and I like having something to do on my Wednesday nights, so I said, "Hey, would it be helpful if I just showed up and hung out with y'all?" I thought Amber was going to leap across the table and hug the oxygen right out of my lungs, she said yes so enthusiastically!

So, I've been chillin' with the jr highers (and slowly, slowly, slowly learning names and how to play dodgeball - I seemed to have missed that lesson in PE or recess... OH, wait, maybe because I never went??). This last weekend The Revolve Tour came to Portland, and Amber hit me up to help her take a herd of jr high girls to the event. Since I love Amber (have I mentioned that? I LOVE Amber!! She's hilarious and has been a huge God-send as a friend the last couple months!), and I'm definitely quickly falling in love with these girls, I said, "Yes, of course!" several weeks ago.

We had a blast. I think Amber and I might have rocked out more than the girls. My suburban's persistent need to be jumped stretched Amber's sense of adventure just a tad out of her comfort zones (Austin laughed when I apologized for that - I was driving [coasting?] right up my alley, of course...), the late night (Amber is DEFINITELY a morning person, and I was just tired from 2 very poor nights of sleep), the coffee, and laughing at the speaker on "guys" at this conference was enough to make it a highlight of the week, for sure... if not the month!

But... as much fun as it was (and it was!), I also realized that I am a girl. I love being a girl. I enjoy girls. I do and like girly things. BUT, I can only take SOOOOO MUCH girl time. There was a lot of screaming. There was a lot of squeeling. There was a lot of perfume. Makeup. Talk about Miley Cyrus. The Jonas Brothers. Giggling (I may or may not have contributed to that...). By the time I got the girls back to the church parking lot and hugged Amber goodbye, I was thinking, "You know, this is why God made men AND women! We need each other to balance out."

And I'll tell you one thing: after this weekend, I either need to go out and run a dozen miles to get the endorphins going in my brain so the remnants of excessive estrogen are wiped away, OR I need some serious dude-time with my brother or some guy friends to accomplish the same thing.

Girls are great, but I'M a girl, and sometimes I feel like that's enough craziness!

"Hello again, clean hair!"

I washed my hair today - it's been a long time, I can't remember exactly when it was last washed - because I went for a run.

I think running is kind of like a spiritual discipline. The hardest part is getting out of the door. That's kind of like obedience. The most challenging part is actually taking that first step in obedience. It's so easy to talk about it, even to prepare for it, look like you're getting geared up for it... but to actually DO it is hard! It isn't always comfortable. It isn't usually what I want to do - I'd much prefer to take a nap on the energy-absorbing-cough - but I'm determined to do it, because I know I'll be better off once I do.

This afternoon my run had been put off (I'm seriously a world-class procrastinator!) until the sun had set behind the hills. But that was actually OK, because there was enough light in the sky to illuminate the clouds in a vast array of powerful pilings, and the fog was descending in a way that obscured the road ahead... I liked that. My iPod is currently unavailable, so I did the run with just the company of my thoughts, and I was considering how if running is being obedient to God, then it would only make sense that there would be fog along the way... The road is still there, it's still consistent under my feet, but I cannot always see that far ahead of me.

One thing I noticed, though, was that despite the heavy fog rolling into the valley, I could still see the stars. I love stars. They are perhaps my all time favorite natural landscape. (I like songs about stars too!) And I particularly like that even though my view of the road was variable, the stars remained consistent.

Someday I don't believe I'll live where I can see the stars and run in the country with fog and rural roads and silence for my company. Lord, help me store up these moments to enjoy in the future...

Quote

I went to a conference this weekend. I spent Friday night in the nursery with my friend Stephanie and her two kids. Stephanie and her husband are planning to move to India in February, so her husband was speaking about that.

Saturday Stephanie spoke at a ladies luncheon that I also attended. She had some great things to say, and these were my favorites:

"Are you living life for yourself or for God? God is a gentleman - he doesn't force us to do things against our will."

"May I always be dissatisfied with where I am - may God always woo me to the higher ground fo holiness."

Success!

I think sometimes I have the most ridiculous fear of failure. I don't even bother to define what is "success" versus what is "failure," I just have this paralyzing fear of trying my hand at something and NOT being good enough. My pride doesn't like that. And my insecurity doesn't either... because when I'm basing my value and merit off of my ability to do something, then I get all anxious and paranoid over the idea of not being able to do it.

Deep breaths, Dani, seriously! Stop, assess, reevaluate, define, compartmentalize... What's the big rush?!

But today, TO-DAY I did experience that sweet feeling of "ahh, success!" The first time was when I was in my boss's office going over her evaluation of me as a teacher. She came and sat in on my class last week for 2 hours and took notes from her chair in the back. Honestly, I wasn't that worried about her evaluation of me because a) I've been teaching in various settings for the last 4 years or so and this would be the first time someone actually came and sat in to evaluate ME as a teacher, and I WANT the constructive criticism, and b) because I figured if I bombed the evaluation and she realized she needed to fire me on the spot, it would have been a good indication that I'm ready to move on to something else. But "b" didn't happen, and there wasn't even all that much of "a" going on in the evaluation. In teacher/parenting talk, it was more like "positive reinforcement"... On paper, I apparently look like a valuable addition to the college educator community. I'll be honest: it was nice. As a words of affirmation person, it's nice to have my superior look over my shoulder and be able to say, "Well done."

The second moment of success came in the student center as I was leaving from my lunch date with my cousin. One of my students from the summer quarter (who gave me a bit of trouble from time to time and challenged my ability to communicate ideas from various approaches) passed me and stopped to say hi. To my surprise (thrill!!!) he took the GED test, passed it, and made it into another program the college offers to teach diesel mechanics. Sometimes it's tough to look at these students who want so badly to do something with their life, but they just don't seem to have the raw ability to get there. I'm ashamed to admit that I wonder whether some of my students have what it takes to accomplish their goals... But it was like encouragement squared to the exponential value to have this guy tell me he'd made it! He'd used what I taught him in Math and Language Arts over the summer - along with all the other teachers' contributions - and he got a minimum of 410 with an average of 450 on every test. Hallelujah! He gave me a big hug before he had to run to class.

And the final "success" moment came on the mat of my jiu jitsu class as my opponent - with a 90 lb advantage over me - had me in the mount position, and I managed to pull his arm in, lock his foot, and leverage enough with my hips to throw him over my left shoulder into a roll that got him on his back, with me in guard (I think I got all those terms right...). Sweet! This sport is HARD for me, with what seems like a million possibilities I have to evaluate and think through, while at the same time trying to remember a million details and plan out what I'm going to do next and how he's going to respond. It's tricksy, little hobbitses! Like chess... but physical! But small moments like that - despite the other 25 minutes of jiu jitsu rolling that resulted in being bruised, bashed, squished, thrown around, groped (not on purpose), battered, and joint-locked - encourage my tenacity (or stubborness!) and keep me going... The thrill is worth it all!

Success... It's such a motivator!

Sunset...

The sky is fantastical tonight from my perch on the front porch. I've chosen to bundle in my heavy winter jacket on the rocking chair I drug outside to watch the last vestiges of the autumn sun sink behind the hills and trees after coming home from work. The NW offers so few beautiful, affirming, life-giving-Vitamin-D-filled days from November through May that it seems wasteful to not try to absorb every last reflective ray... Despite that my fingers might freeze to the keyboard in-process...

Today was beautiful. Not in just a sunshiny way. Or a crisp-cool air and leaves-falling way. Or even in a dry pavement (and thus trouser hems!) and wood-smoke-smelling way... It was more of a deep, in-my-soul, starting-out-on-a-journey way. You know the morning you leave for someplace exciting on vacation? You're full of hopes and anticipation and curiosity. You don't actually know what's in store, but you know that it'll be different, it'll be new, it'll be challenging and fun and crazy and adventurous and... you'll never be back in THIS spot at THIS moment without the changes that will impact you from the journey. I love that feeling. And that's what today felt like.

The sun has sunk now, and the sky has transformed from vivid pink and orange to moody blues and purples. With the contrast of the green-green grass, and the orange and blood red leaves here on the trees at the house where I'm staying, it's delightful to have vision and be able to absorb this. I'm smiling up at the sky: "Well done, Lord!"

Tonight I'll head back into town for youth group after responding to some emails and trying to sort out a couple more of the accommodation locations for this Egypt trip, but the sunset feels something like a sunrise to me right now... Changes are coming... The day is dawning... I have no idea what it'll bring, but I'm feeling it in my bones. The time is coming for me to not just think and talk about making decisions and stepping out to define what opportunities I'm pursuing and what I'm letting slide by me, but to actually DO it. I'm excited. I'm scared, yes, and intimidated, and (when I let myself!) fearful of failing, but what is failure, really? I prefer to think of it as a chance to learn something new... something you wouldn't have learned otherwise... something that will stick with you for the rest of your life as a "been there, done that, NEVER going back!"

Ahh, life. Who knew it would be so fun? So challenging? So beautiful? Lord, bring it!

Blog #2

A place for my pictures!

check it: www.shulkeshutters.blogspot.com

on hookers and hunting and heaven appointed conversations

Tonight at my Perspectives class we were talking about how we could be praying for people we come across throughout our day - grocery store clerks, waiters, office administrators, etc. I was excited about the idea of purposefully praying for these people and thus keeping a better focus on God!

I was driving home and I had to stop for gas and a bathroom break just north of Tacoma. I pulled up to pump #7 at Chevron and ran inside to fork over my $20 bill to fill up my car, explaining to the clerk (Rick) that I'd come back for the change. "I promise I'll give you money back!" he called as I pushed out the door. When I came back in, he owed my $5.38.

"Where are you headed?" He asked. I explained that I was on my way south to CR. He got a funny look on his face. "CR, huh? Do you have a minute or are you in a big hurry?" I was looking intently into his eyes and praying for him in my mind while we talked. "This is exciting!" I thought to myself, "Maybe this conversation could lead to talking about Jesus or something!" "Oh, I've got a minute - I'm not in a big rush." I told him.

"OK, well, I've only been in CR once," Rick started into his story, "I was up hunting with a buddy at the mountain and the weather was terrible. I guess it always is in CR. Anyhow, we'd been out all day and were freezing and wet and miserable, so we thought we'd go into town and find a hot meal. We found a little tavern downtown and ordered some food."

"We do have a couple of those," I said, "Probably two or three on every block."

"Yeah, "Rick said, "I remember that. I don't remember the name of this one, though. But while we were there, a hooker came in."

"This conversation is not going how I thought it would go," my brain said to itself. "This might get interesting. Do I excuse myself now or stick it out for the end of the story?" Curiosity got the better of me.

"Only, I didn't realize she was a hooker," Rick continued, "I just thought, 'man, the girls in this town are really friendly!' I told my friend that, and I guess I said it kind of loud, because the whole place heard me say it and started laughing. The girl kind of wandered off, I think, and my buddy - he's married with six kids - just looked at me like I was crazy."

I didn't know exactly what to say, so I just nodded.

"But you know, I just didn't expect that in CR. I mean, if I'd been in Seattle or Portland, sure, that seems likely, but CR just didn't strike me as the type of place for hookers. I wouldn't think there'd be enough business."

I still didn't know what to say, "Uh, yeah, my home town has a population of 2000 and 1% is hookers"? So I settled for saying, "Wow, that's quite a memorable experience in CR. I don't think I've ever heard a story like that before. I guess we made our mark on you."

He nodded, "You sure did. It's been 10 years and I still remember CR. Actually, I couldn't forget it if I wanted to, my buddy still gives me a hard time about it."

Our conversation concluded shortly thereafter when some other customers came in and wanted Rick's attention. As I went into the bathroom I wondered if a) Rick would think I was a hooker, and b) if he did, if it was safe for me to be in the bathroom by myself. But then I figured I was probably being over paranoid, and that if he tried anything on me, I could always test my new self-defense knowledge...

"Drive safe now, little lady!" Rick told me as I left the store. "Thanks!" I said back, "Have a good night!" And then I got in Poppy and drove away - back to my hooker populated, tavern popular, huntin' town. So much for evangelizing in gas stations.

Abraham

I realize it isn't November yet. Therefore I'm not supposed to be blogging. But I'm feeling rebellious tonight. And if you knew the number of times I've WANTED to blog and haven't, you'd forgive me this entry!

I've been reading in Genesis this month. I'd intended to try to get through the whole Bible in lieu of blogging and facebooking, but... it hasn't happened. I spent a week stuck on Hosea (I think I read that book 20 times!), several more days in Psalms (my standby favorite), and now I'm in Genesis and Romans and Ephesians. And about to start looking at Luke after the sermon I heard yesterday.

I have a number of favorite Bible stories - Daniel and the lion's den is great, so is the story of Abigail and David, the whole book of Esther, Jesus and Mary and Martha, Moses as a baby, etc. But one that's been standing out to me this week is Genesis 22.

It's the story of Abraham's test of faith. It's not very long, but a couple sections catch my eye: "Some time later, God tested Abraham's faith. "Abraham!" God called. "Yes," he relied, "Here I am." "Take your son, your only son - yes, Isaac, whom you love so much - and go to the land of Moriah. Go and sacrifice him as a burnt offering on one of the mountains, which I will show you." The next morning, Abraham got up early... On the third day of their journey, Abraham looked up... As the two of them walked on together, Isaac turned to Abraham and said, "Father?" "Yes, my son?" Abraham replied, "We have the fire and the wood," the boy said, "but where is the sheep for the burn offering?" "God will provide a sheep for the burnt offering, my son," Abraham answered. And they both walked on together... "Abraham! Abraham!" "Yes," Abraham replied, "Here I am!" "Don't lay a hand on the boy!" the angel said. "Do not hurt him in any way, fro now I know that you truly fear God. You have not withheld from me even your son, your only son... And through your descendants all the nations of the earth will be blessed - all because you have obeyed me."

It always intrigues me when conversations between God and humans are recorded in the Bible. What does God's audible voice sound like? What was the person's reaction when they heard the voice?

But my main focus is on verses 2 and 3 in this chapter. If I could, I would ask Abraham a host of questions: What was your reaction to God telling you to sacrifice Isaac? Why did you get up early? Because you were eager to obey? Or because you hadn't slept? Did you wrestle all night long with yourself, knowing you were going to obey God, but wishing you weren't? Or did you sincerely not know what you'd eventually choose? Or were you truly at peace and trusting God? Did you hate yourself for obeying a huge, powerful, supreme being that demanded your long-awaited son? Did you hate God for putting you in that position? What did you tell Sarah? Did you think you'd come home and have to have a funeral for Isaac? Did it hurt? Did you always call Isaac "my son," or was it just because you realized you were going to be sacrificing him? What was going through you head as you tied up Isaac? What was Isaac's response? Was your heart pounding? Were you begging God to stop this? Did it feel like you were tearing off a chunk of your heart and killing it on that altar? Did you expect this sacrifice to be worth it, or did you just know, deep down, that you'd have to grit your teeth and willfully obey, even if it was the last think you wanted to do in a million years?

I love the last part of my cut n' diced story the most, though. I have a note in my Bible that states, "The heavy significance of blessing through obedience..." Abraham obeyed. And THEN he was blessed. (Obviously, he'd been blessed before too, but that might have been to increase his faith in preparation for this test... Who knows!) Obedience is the key, though. Obedience, even in the face of supremely unfavorable and undesirable circumstances.

I like to think that Abraham struggled during that long night, and over the next 3 days. I like to think that his heart ached. That he questioned God. That he got mad at God. That he knew he'd chose the right thing, even if it killed him. Even if it meant living the rest of his life without his greatest source of joy. It wouldn't have been a test, after all, if it had been anything less than the most important thing that happened.

And I like to think that even if Abraham had killed Isaac, he still would have said it was worth it to be obedient to God. Because who of us knows, going into a test, whether it'll turn out favorably, like Abraham's experience? I don't. I'm choosing to be obedient, regardless of the questions and doubts in my head, and the hurt and ache and missing chunks in my heart. I come to God bleeding, crying, bruised, broken, fragile, imperfect, without my life being "together" at all, but I come to do what he's called me to do. I come to be obedient. And I hope in God - because I have no other thing to hope in - that it'll be worth it.

Everyday Beauty

What is beauty?

Although it is, perhaps, the spectacular foray of vibrant images or overwhelming emotions experienced once, twice, thrice in a lifetime (or more frequently if we're lucky), I propose it's also present in everyday moments... Dancing with kiddos I'm babysitting... the smiling eyes of precious innocence and trust... stumbling across a quaint country church with a heritage of faithful parishioners in the adjoining graveyard... sunrise through the filter of a foggy field... an empty bench on a walk in a park at sunset... reflections of the vast sky, sinking sun, and moving waters in a consortium portrayal of life...

I am attempting to remove myself from some distractions this month out of a desire to focus on, essentially, falling more in love with Jesus. I desire to trust, understand, know, love, desire, conform, and find satisfaction in what God would lead me to do next... forever... As a result, I'm taking a quasi-break from blogging.

In the interim, here are some pictures of late that I'd label "beautiful." May you, dear reader, see and recognize beauty around you today.