5 years

I am rather surprised tonight by how the past 5 years have changed my perspective and opinions on a number of things. A woman that has watched me grow up said to my parents 5 years ago - as I stood on the cusp of making a decision that would have changed my life significantly - that she thought the next 5 years would bring me to a very different place, and that I would feel differently about many things.

I had no idea how right she was.

Five years ago, I had a very clear picture of what my "ideal" would be in one area of life. I had a plan that I would have liked to have play out in steps exactly how I envisioned them. I had many specific details figured out to astounding complexity.

I wasn't ever presented with the exact option I was waiting for. I had some other options, but I chose to not pursue them extensively.

Now - 5 years later - I suddenly realized today that I've recently been presented with that ideal - I mean, down to ASTONISHING details!! - and I chose to not accept the ideal, because it's no longer what I want.

I've changed in the last 5 years, and I think it's really fascinating that, had I been given the option back THEN of what I was recently offered, I would have taken it without a 2nd thought. It would have been a dream come true. But NOW, 5 years later, I had the chance to choose the very thing I used to want, and I no longer want it.

How strange. God obviously had different things in mind for me than MY ideal. I think it was His grace that preserved me from being given the option 5 years ago, and this realization today is a demonstration of how He has purposefully worked to grow and mature me in different ways than I thought I would grow and mature.

He really, really does know what He's doing. I am awed by Him. Yesterday I had some time to myself and was starting to get stressed from how my thoughts were fragmented and running in a million different directions. But then I recognized the fact that I didn't want to be thinking about this stressful stuff. So I told God, "Lord, I don't want to think about this stuff, but I cannot seem to keep my own mind off of it. What do YOU want me to think about?"

And His answer, in His typical loving, gentle, kind way, was simply, "Me, Dani. I want you to think about me."

I laughed. Of course! Why would He NOT want me to think about Him? He's seriously the best thing to think about - His love for me is overwhelming... unfathomable... generous... kind... patient... How good He is to me!

a good chuckle...

I went to my friend Janene's open house in honor of her recent marriage. She met her husband in Utah, and they were married there last week, but they're visiting her family at the end of their honeymoon for the Christmas festivities.

Janene and I have been friends since our high school soccer days. She was a classic-literature-loving, piano-playin', studious, modest counterpart on the soccer team, and I especially appreciated her company and friendship during the long bus rides to away games. We would run together sometimes throughout the year. Since she moved to Utah to go to school, we've stayed in touch via phone and facebook messages and the occasional visit when she was home to see her folks.

I had to laugh when, about 5 minutes into our conversation tonight sitting on her stairwell, she asked me, "Are there any boys in your life?" This seems to be a very common question - maybe it's my age, maybe it's the fact that my sister got married, maybe it's something to do with the number of friends I know who have gotten hitched this year (I stopped counting in the mid thirties, remember?)... whatever the case, it's a frequent question I find myself fielding.

Which, in all truth, I don't mind. I know that people ask me out of a sincere desire to see me happy, loved, and in a healthy relationship with a good guy. When friends like Janene ask, I think it's mostly because they feel like their own relationship with a significant other is the most meaningful thing in their life, and they genuinely want me to know they're interested in me and my life, and want to express support for such a meaningful relationship in my own life.

It does make me smile a little though - allow me the self indulgence, please! - because it's sometimes an exercise in patience (and really, this is something of a private joke between God and myself, so maybe it won't make sense to you - my apologies if it falls flat and you don't see the humor in this...) to not retort to people that my value, worth, opinion of myself, goals in life, or accomplishments in my own mind have nothing to do with my relationship status. In fact, several weeks ago (when I wasn't feeling so patient) I whined to a friend, "I am NOT defined by whether or not I'm dating, engaged, or married to someone! I wish people would get that through their thick skulls!!" (in my defense, I think that was after about the 5th person had asked me if I currently had a "special someone" in my life within the scope of about 24 hours...) But most of the time, when people ask me, I smile a genuine smile that maybe only God and I understand, and I answer honestly that I hate to disappoint them, but no, I'm not seeing anyone at this time.

Tonight, though, this rather predictable conversation took a unique turn. Janene looked at me, and maybe seeing the sparkle in my eyes when I answered her, commented, "That's OK, Dani. You're hands down the coolest old maid I know or will ever know! I mean, look at you and your life - you do such awesome things. Most old maids sit around moping. You don't!"

I was so complimented by it that I laughed out loud. I thanked her profusely for the compliment, then paused a moment in the philosophical corner of my mind to comment back to her that there is MUCH I want to do in life - places to go, things to experience, ways to serve, ways to invest in the world, adventures to be had, etc - that I'm really so extremely thankful for where I'm at in life right now. I am, of course, excited for Janene and all my recently married friends, but I simply cannot imagine being in their shoes, thinking about a husband, keeping a house, finishing up my education while trying to learn how to be married, working, kids, in-laws, etc.

I put my hand on her arm and grinned. "I'll make you a deal, friend," I said, "I'll keep adventuring and doing crazy things, and you can live an adventure vicariously through me, and you can do the home-wife-kids thing, and I'll live that adventure vicariously through you. Then we'll both continue to learn and experience new things, but we'll also be content with where we are."

Because really, that's the most important thing to me. God's been teaching me quite persistently that he has placed me here. He has his reasons, and even if I don't understand why, I DO NOT want to be discontent with my present. I think learning to be content is one of the hardest challenges I have - and possibly will - face in life, but I also think it'll be one of the most rewarding. Season in life come and go. Relationships start and end. People are here and then they are not. Babies are born, kids grow up and leave, spouses and best friends die, and nothing seems to be all that permanent.

But I have God. I have my relationship with Him. I have joy and value and purpose and meaning, and I delight in those facts, and can choose to focus on them and be content. Regardless of my circumstances.

So I told Janene, "I have no problem being an old maid!" If that's where God wants me, and if that's where he has me, I'll throw myself into being the most God-loving, alive old maid you can imagine. And I'll play cards while I'm at it...

Calm and Stillness

This Christmas break has served to be one of the most relaxing holidays I've experienced in a long time. I almost feel guilty admitting that. I know many, many people who seem to be rushing and hustling and barely managing to stay on top of all they want or need to do. I am not trying to rub it in. Rather, I'm just really thankful.

I purposefully didn't plan much for break - and I was afraid I'd get bored because I wasn't jaunting off to some foreign place or roadtripping long distances or attending a wedding in a different time zone - because I have planned stuff for every other school break for the past, oh, two years or so.

Instead, I've been sleeping in late. I've been taking naps. I've been socializing and practicing guitar and piano and visiting friends and drinking hot tea and coffee. I've been reading and taking pictures. I've been planning Christmas gifts and wrapping them.

I'm house sitting this week and today I was reading my Bible and journaling in a comfortable rocking chair in the sunshine. I found myself dozing off after awhile, and usually I wake up in a panic when that happens, because I'm afraid I've missed something important, but today I knew I had at least four hours until my first commitment, so I just sighed, smiled, and closed my eyes again to soak up the Vitamin D, quiet house, and the peace that seemed to permeate my heart.

Despite how relaxing it's been it's still be emotionally a bit eventful. The last five days have felt a bit like one thing after another that have mentally thrown me for a loop. A friend struggling with depression, another friend miscarrying, yet another friend revealing much in the way of heartache and disappointment from their past, and an unexpected pregnancy. While none of these things directly impact me, they are enough to throw a speed bump into my holiday bliss.

Maybe that's why today's nap in the chair seemed so vital and renewing.

Wherever you are, whatever your holiday schedule looks like, I hope you can get at least a few minutes to doze off in an armchair with your feet up, under a blanket, with the sun in your face.

In Verse

ONE:

I am but one

Small bud in a field

Small thorn on a rose bush

Small fleck on a clock

I have but one

moment in time

breath left to spill

self to give

I strive for none but one

goal: to love

life: to live

thought: to praise

I have

two hands to move

two ears to tune

two eyes to weigh

I desire just one:

blink to endure

God to serve

love to hold as mine:

Jesus.

THE VOICE:

The voice I'm learning to decipher

Amidst the wind and rain

Is the voice I long to hear

Comfort my world-wearied soul today.

I hope for strength and patience

As I pass where I can't see His face

May His tenderest touch

Fill my heart with the rush

To step through my sludge to His gate.

SURRENDER:

My heart and its feelings

of sadness and woe and

hope. Surrender.

My dreams and the fuel

that pressed me

onward to go.

My words and my deeds

must be given to Thee

if this act is complete.

But to learn to love

well, and to hold

well myself, I

Surrender to be

more like You and

much, much less

like me.

TO LOVE:

Oh the trials the soul must face

When a heart desires to give, not take

Against every instinct it must fight

When reason and hope seem out of sight

The battle must be won

Strength given from the Son

But death comes in the night

before the rising of Love.

"I know...

... that my Redeemer lives and will stand upon the earth at last... I am overwhelmed at the thought."

These verses from Job mean a great deal to me. They feel like an anchor of sorts - to secure me, sober me, and ultimately, provide rest.

Today is the one year anniversary of my friend Anthony Vietti's death on Mount Hood.

It's hard to believe it's been a year.

A year ago I was in Egypt. Sailing on the Nile, riding on camels, floating in a hot air balloon, laying on the beach, climbing down into royal tombs. A year ago I met Zeph on a day trip out to Aswan. A year ago I was confused and felt pathetic and hurt, and I was trying to be brave, buck up, and accept my reality. A year ago I was restless and anxious and running - running from destroyed dreams, the rain, memories, responsibilities - and also desperately wanting to find peace by running to God.

I was half a world away from home, wondering what on earth I was doing, and why on earth I had drug my friend Claire into this soul-searching experience.

And then, into that, I got a facebook message from my friend Amber telling me that Anthony and two friends had attempted to summit Mt Hood and hadn't come home.

I feel like I've lived a lifetime in the past year. Death, grief, hope, crushing of that hope, vulnerability, rejection, fear, promises, new life, joy, fear, delight, comfort, safety, security, trust, serving, receiving, tears, laughter. Some link specifically to Anth, and others, honestly, have absolutely nothing to do with him.

What is a year? What is a lifetime? What is time? Little, tiny, important, significant events, feelings, and actions that blur together at a speed that is at once both faster than we can grasp, and slow enough to savor.

I have learned in the last year that I would rather say, "I'm sorry" and free myself of a burden of guilt than wait for the other person to humble themself first. I have learned in the last year that I would rather say, "I love you" and be rejected than wonder at what might have been. I have learned in the last year that every little, minor, seemingly unimportant thing we do impacts someone, somehow - and I want to be mindful of how I act in the little, minor, unimportant things. I have learned in the last year that I want to be a friend that treasures people and their lives and their stories - stepping over and away from myself enough to see them in light of who Jesus sees them, to accept them as they are without pressuring them to conform to my ideas of them. I have learned that love - TRUE love - is patient, kind, rejoices with truth, protective, trusting, hopeful, and enduring.

A year ago I didn't realize how much I would regret that I didn't know these things earlier. A year ago I didn't realize how thankful I would be for where I would stand when the calendar again displayed "December 11th" as "today."

Constitution:

,
dictionary.com defines constitution as: "the aggregate of a person's physical and psychological characteristics." ("aggregate" means the combination or sum total)

I watched "Emma" (or the latter part of it anyhow) with some ladies on Saturday night, and at the end of the movie, Mr. Knightley tells Emma he's willing to live at her Father's home after they are married so they can keep her fretful father happy, and they can be together. Emma says, "You would do that? for me?" and Mr. Knightley responds, "Well, I might still walk [to my home] several times a day, just for my constitution."

We, the viewers, were pondering that fantastic word: constitution. It seems a bit out-dated in present vernacular. Too bad.

Too bad, because I'm about to use it: I have concluded that going to the beach by oneself is excellent for one's constitution.

Yesterday was gorgeous. Yesterday I also didn't have anything too pressing. So I took off for the beach in Poppy, with no music, a cell phone that I'd turned off, my bible, my notebook, and my camera.

I stopped along the coast and snapped this shot as the sun was setting, then found a fancy little bistro in Astoria that served a lot of vegan food, and I ate and journaled and read and tried to unpack Genesis 24. I decided there's a lot there.

I didn't get home until late, and didn't sleep until later, because I wanted to practice on my ghee-tar, because I always feel cool when I play on it, but I slept in until almost ELEVEN today, and now need to be productive. [Sidenote: this is why I really don't like sleeping in all that much. It messes up my whole day's timelines.]

What have you done lately that's been good for your constitution?

I would rather...

I would rather live here:

than here:

I would rather wake up to this:

than this:

If I fall in love, I want it to be in this environment:

more than this one:

I want my kids to appreciate this:

more than this:

This reality is just not good enough:

when this could be an option:

What do you think that means?

speak to me

I'm enjoying Remedy Drive's song "Speak to Me" as I write this blog (it's on repeat). Not because I feel the sense of desperation that the lyrics and melody evoke, but rather just because I recognize in the song my own need to hear God lead and direct me.

I wish I listened better.


Today I had coffee with my precious friend, Melanie. We were wrapping up our conversation with me detailing to her about my recent interview at Mars Hill Graduate School. She, like the great person she is, asked me questions with enthusiasm (because she knows I tend to be an enthusiastic person, so she serves me in this way by responding and initiating enthusiasm - I told you she's great!). I answered them in detail (imagine! me?!), but without quite the level of enthusiasm that she inquired with.


I like MHGS. I like the Counseling Psychology program they offer. But I'm not feeling compelled toward it.


Instead, I'm applying to the Peace Corp. I think the Peace Corp is attractive to me at this point because it seems like such a place of service for me.


MHGS equips for service, no doubt, and will undoubtedly offer opportunities for this while in the program. But, somehow, the Peace Corp seems more attractive in this area right now. The whole program is built around the idea of serving and empowering and equipping the community I'm assigned to. I like that idea.


I also like the idea of being able to serve alongside people who are not necessarily the same as me. Not that MHGS would mean a lack of variety, I'm positive there would be a lot of differences among students, but when I went to visit, I was amazed at how comfortable I felt in many ways, like I was around a bunch of people like me, or like who I could be. I want to be around people who don't necessarily see the world from the same lens as I do.


Bottom line: I think, 30 years down the road, I would regret NOT pursuing the Peace Corp. If I get rejected, it's not really a big deal. At least I tried it, and I can find a new target goal. However, I don't think I'd regret choosing to NOT go down the Mars Hill path.


I was telling Melanie today, though, that I'm not necessarily concerned about it. I am content here, where I am. While that scares me (I asked my good friend Nate today during my guitar lesson with him, "Nate, do you think we can be content without being apathetic? I'm afraid of contentment, because I'm afraid I'll become content in my contentment, which I think would be a lot like apathy. I don't think I know how to be content!"), I believe that God will lead me if or when it's time to move on. Through circumstances, counselors, dreams, passions, people, or just feelings and impressions. I know it's my choice, really - I have free will. But I also know that God knows me better than I know myself, and loves me infinitely more than I can imagine. I've also been reading in Genesis lately, and I've been struck with how the Bible very simply states, "God spoke" to various characters - Abraham, Hagar, Lot, etc. Why do I doubt He's capable and willing to do the same thing to me?


Ask. Seek. Knock. He is faithful.


"Tell me something, tell me anything. I am waiting for you, won't you speak to me?"

Thanks Giving

Four things I'm thankful for:

1: My growing, changing, vibrant relationship with my Creator. There's such peace and comfort in getting to know God. He's capable of so much, but restrains that capability to kind, generous, gracious, honorable acts. The more I read and discover about Him, and the more I talk to and choose to love Him, the more I focus on a clearer picture of Him. That picture is revealing to me a God of astounding patience in dealing with people not just throughout the ages, but also with me. It is pure delight to know that He loves me, He's protecting me, He has good things in store for me, and He will walk with me through every good, bad, ugly, and beautiful time that comes.

2: I'm thankful I'm in this geographical place. I live in an amazing community - with the ability to retreat easily into the countryside and find solitude and peace, or interact in a social setting of various sectors. There is natural beauty in the green forests and abundant waters. Mountains tower protectively nearby, but the vast expanse of the beach is within an easy drive. Wild animals waltz through my life, while industry and commerce provide their own artistic scope to my world. God has put me here and I'm content with it.

3: I'm also thankful for the friends that are in my life. This picture is of my friends Pete, Julie, and Gabe, on a last-minute, random clam digging trip last month. I never expected to have such strong friendships with people I lived close to. I've often developed a close bond with someone while traveling or overseas, but I thought it was something special that only occurred in a foreign environment. God has kindly blown that misunderstanding out of the water and blessed me with dear, wonderful, soul-level friends in THIS place. There are so many; these three can only serve as a representation of how wonderful it is to be close friends with people that I can stop in at their house and drink tea with or run the lake with or invite over for a last minute get-together. I am grateful that I don't just live in a social circle, but genuinely live in a community of believers that hear my confessions of sin, confess their struggles to me, pray for me, hear God with me, trust God for me, and model loving and serving God, and thus encourage me to do likewise. From grocery shopping with my friend Amber (and my surrogate nephew, Trace), to receiving a hug from the stately gentleman at my church at his wife's funeral, regular interactions with the individuals in my community bless me immensely. And the fact that I can contribute toward this community is humbling, sobering, and inspiring all at the same time.

4: My family is another thing I'm thankful for. This week, because of an unseasonably early snow storm and the holiday, I got to spend extra time with my siblings and parents. My family isn't perfect, because the individuals in this family are not perfect, but I'm beginning to learn to appreciate and value what each person brings and contributes. I love my Mom and Dad and how they sometimes do weird, quirky things, but how they also love to spend time with their children. I love that my older sister married an awesome guy that I respect and appreciate and love, and that he fits into our family dynamics pretty well after a mere 5 months. I love that my older sister, who is a strange combination of being like me and being my diametric opposite, lives only a couple hours away and she and Andrew can come home for holidays. My next younger sister amazes me with how good she is at being a big sister to our littlest siblings. I love her fun, dramatic personality, quick sense of humor, and fierce protection of the people she loves. My youngest siblings add the opportunity for new experiences ("Wanna help me skin my deer, Dani?"), and demonstrate immense patience, generosity, and kindness toward me, their often-preoccupied older sister. I am richly blessed to have the family God gave me.

What Abimelech Observed

I spent most of my time last week in Genesis 21. I kept rereading verses 22-34. I just couldn't seem to get anything too profound out of it, and I thought for sure I was missing the point. Then I realized two things:

1 - Abimelech noticed Abraham was blessed and sought to be a part of that blessing. I think this is fascinating, especially given that Abimelech doesn't get any mention in the Biblical canon as being a believer in God. That fact was convicting to me: a non-believer is more in tune with seeing who is being blessed than I probably would be, and he also DOES something about it.

How often do I simply overlook God's blessings? Whether it be in my life or in other people's lives? And not only that, but when I do see that God is blessing someone, does it prompt me to action? Or is it just, like, "Oh, hey, that's cool. Hm. 'Bout them Huskies..." It makes me think of how much more I could be doing. If I'm looking for blessings around me, and notice someone as being blessed, why on earth don't I go to them and say, "Hey, what's the deal? I noticed you're being really blessed. How can I get a part of that?" Not that I'm promoting being greedy, but perhaps more from the perspective of maybe I have something I can learn from that person. Not that God operates on a strictly "those who deserve it get blessed" basis, but there ARE some areas where it seems to follow that logical thought - honor your father and mother, and you'll be blessed with long life, etc.

2 - Sometimes I expect that God will work in supernatural ways to accomplish what he plans. Wrong. I think sometimes he uses very normal, everyday, human events and actions. In this case, Abraham and Abimelech developed a peace treaty. I don't believe this was wrong, after giving it some thought. God didn't tell Abraham to go into the land and destroy every living inhabitant - that didn't come until much later. Not only that, if God said that Abraham would live in this land, why can't he do it as a "legal resident," so to speak, rather than as an "illegal immigrant"? There's nothing wrong - and, in fact, it might often be RIGHT! - to progress through conventional, legal, appropriate, ethical chains of command. Abraham was blessed that the chain of command came to him, of course, and that he didn't have to go seek it out... but still, it seems insightful.

So there you have it: God grants lots and lots of blessings. I want to see them. I want to search them out. I want to not be afraid of letting God work through circumstances and not wondering if maybe I'm missing the clear leading. So maybe, when all the doors start opening for you to purchase plane tickets to Niger to work with a Medical Team at a remote hospital, it's reasonable to take that as an indication that's the direction to proceed, don't you think? :-)

Holy Stories: Dean and Becky

I really love stories. That's probably why I love reading so much. I especially love "Holy Stories." I've decided I'm going to try to record some "Holy Stories" on this blog as I come across them, because even though I know God is always working in our lives, there is just sometimes when it is SO obvious. I think those instances should be remembered.

Last night I went to the wedding reception of the couple pictured above. Theirs is a unique story:

Becky married when she was young - 18 or 19 I think. All she'd ever wanted to be was a wife and mom. Her family had worked in North Africa while she was growing up, before returning to the states when she was a young teen. Not only her family but the culture she'd adopted as her own saw women's valuable role as being home with the kids. Becky loved that idea.

Becky and her husband worked at a ranch in Christian ministry. They had one son, then another, and then a daughter. They seemed to have an idyllic life - Becky and her husband were both modelish in looks, their children were adorable, they had a sweet little cottage, there were horses and ministry and kids and fun.

Then Becky's husband had an affair with a young woman in the community. Becky was pregnant with her fourth child. Becky's parents, brother, and his wife and family continue to live and work in N. Africa building homes for the poor families victimized be a natural disaster almost ten years ago.

Becky's brother and his family were living in N. Africa when Becky had her fourth - another boy - but Becky's parents and youngest siblings were joining them for the summer, so Becky went also with her four small children to gain some perspective, gather her bearings, and try to figure out which way to go.

That's when I met Becky. We'd do dishes together, bounce babies together, and wander through town and get stared at together. While it was certainly a community of young women that developed there, I always have felt a connection to Becky and her fun-loving, deep-thinking, random-and-crazy personality.

Becky went home at the end of the summer and experienced what - looking back - was probably one of the most emotionally trying, tempestuous, all-over-the-board seasons anyone has experienced. She tried to reconcile with her husband, they attended counseling, she attended counseling, they tried living together, they tried living apart, and at the end of it, he wasn't willing to compromise and neither was she. He refused to work on rebuilding love and trust, and she was tired of being threatened, abused, and emotionally destroyed. She filed for a divorce. By then they had added a fifth child - another boy - to the brood.

Dean, the man next to Becky in the picture above, was born and raised in Ireland. I don't know his story very well, but at some point he ended up coming through the community in N. Africa and working on a short term team. He felt lead to come back for a longer amount of time. When he did, he began to impress Becky's Dad and brother with his honorable character, tender heart, and love for Jesus.

I'm still not completely clear on the details - Becky has been over to Africa several times to visit the members of her family, and obviously she and Dean's paths intersected at some point - but last summer they were engaged when Becky visited Dean and his family in Ireland, and yesterday they were married.

I am astounded at the heartache, chaos, hurt, pain, and despair that threatened this story, especially having walked through it with Becky. But I find myself even more aghast at the redemption, grace, and love seem to saturate it as well.

Dean loves Becky. Dean loves her children. Dean respects Becky's family. Dean respects Becky's ex-husband's position in his kids' lives. Becky has been won over by Dean's love and respect for her and the people in her world. She loves him because he loves her and he loves her kids and he loves her family.

It's almost like the characters in this story exhibit signs of the Holy and the Divine - or, at least, they strive for it.

That's what I call a Holy Story.

Notes from Noah

I picked up lice while I was in India (disgusting, I know), and although the pesky little bugs are LONG gone now (thanks to olive oil, vaseline, combing, lice shampoo, tea tree oil applied to hair every day for a week, tea tree oil shampoo, more combing, a second round of lice shampoo, several rounds of letting rubbing alcohol soak in my hair, AND consistent use of a hair drier and straightening iron... just in case), there is one major lesson I learned from the experience:

Fine-tooth combing and attention to details can really pay off.

I think I've mentioned I'm studying in Genesis right now. While in India I realized there are a number of things I THINK I know about God, and assume to be true, but I also severely doubted as I looked at what was around me. I can still close my eyes and see the face of a leper woman 10 years my senior who had such severe leprosy that it looks like her body is decomposing while she continues to live. I can still feel the pressure of a little orphan girl clinging to my torso. I cannot even now articulate exactly how these sights changed me - probably because I don't really know - but there's no doubt in my mind that I'm different now. Something small but significant has been tweeked in how I look at the world.

So I decided that I wanted to know if this God I worship - this God I claim to love and know and have a personal relationship - actually IS the God that is revealed in the Bible. Because if He's not, then I'm worshipping an idol. My "relationship" is nothing more than a fantasy. I really want to know God for who He is and in the context of who He shows Himself to be.

Genesis called my name. I'm planning to read carefully through the first 5 books of the Bible, as they were the original recordings that God gave to man that reveals Him through the written word.

I had coffee with my friend Rinat today and something about people's weaknesses came up. I shared this with him. God seemed to use it to hit me over the head and then dumped it in my lap a couple weeks ago:

Genesis 9:18-28

Noah makes a vineyard and gets drunk and lies in his tent naked. Ham find him. He goes out and tells his brothers. His brothers come in and cover up Noah. Noah wakes up and realizes what happened, curses Ham, and blesses Shem and Japheth.

Here's what I noticed:

1 - We don't know Ham's attitude or circumstances in finding Noah. Maybe Noah was in his private tent and Ham rudely barged into his tent. Maybe Ham had reason to be in Noah's tent. Maybe Ham was snooping. We also don't know what Ham's attitude was when he came out of Noah's tent. Was he laughing at his father and ridiculing him? Was he disgusted? I dunno. But I do know that he saw his father in a weak and vulnerable state, and he did the wrong thing.

2 - Shem and Japheth found out from Ham that their father was laying in his tent drunk and naked, and they did the opposite of what I'd expect: rather than going to see the spectacle, or even just leaving Noah alone in an attitude of indifference, they go out of their way to cover up their father without giving him additional reason for shame or dishonor. They BACK into the tent and don't look.

3 - Ham saw his father's weak and vulnerable, and he tried to exploit it somehow. He told people. He drew attention to it. He magnetized Noah's flaws. Shem and Japheth did the opposite. They knew about their father's weakness, and they didn't do anything to further expose it. They didn't prey on him in his weakness. Instead, they purposefully tried to use their own strength to protect their father's weak points.

How often do I see someone's weakness and jump at it? Or, more subtly, how often do I just happen to "casually" mention it? Or use it against them or their reputation in even the slightest way? More importantly than that, though, how often, when I see a weakness, do I FAIL to purpose to protect and shelter that weakness, using my own strength to make up for the shortcoming in another person? Or, at the very least, to help them deal with their problem by assisting them.

4 - Noah seems to dramatically overreact. Rather than responding in humbleness and saying, "Boys (although they were all well over a 100 a this point, I believe!), I did something stupid, and I know you know about it, and I just want to confess and come clean to you," instead he starts throwing up smoke screens and cursing Ham and drawing attention to his son and diverting it off himself. How often do I do THAT? Rather than, in humility, admitting a mistake or foolishness or sin, I try to point out other people's faults, or use them as an excuse.

It's really sobering to see myself reflected in the negative side of these old Bible stories. But it's also good for me to come face to face with my sin.

Father, thank you for how you continue to work through your Word to teach. Open my eyes to my sin so I can repent and stop. Help me be a champion for people, a warrior maiden fighting FOR people, not against them. Help me honor and respect them, their stories, their past, their present, and their future. Thank you for your insurmountable mercy.

What is my Passion?

I spent the weekend in Seattle, attending the applicant interview and preview weekend for Mars Hill Graduate School. It was, as the advertised name for the preview weekend identifies, an "experience." I haven't decided if it was good or not, but it was definitely insightful, interesting, and idea-evoking.

I've applied to their Master's in Counseling Psychology program, and I am intrigued by the school. they're technically a seminary, and they describe their focus on psychology as being also theological and philosophical. I really like that idea.

What has me concerned is the vibes I've picked up that, perhaps, I might think differently than I do now upon graduation if I were to go to the program. It's a progressive and liberal school in the Christian world. Part of me is drawn to that - there's a great emphasis on holistic experiences - but part of me is equally repelled.

I'm scared. What about if I change while attending? What about if I lose track of who or what I am? But then a part of me is also craving the freedom and liberty the school seems to provide within the academic and intellectual structure. What if I were to figure out who I really am?

One of the things the various student speakers and alumni presentations brought up was the idea of living out our faith within our passion. I also read a recent post on the blog of a gal I met once in Texas (Danielle), which pertains to pursuing our passions.

Is this selfish? By pursuing what I'm really passionate about, will I be entering self-glorification mode? Or is it essentially the most self-less thing you can do? By pursuing what I'm most passionate about, I'm unlocking my heart and really myself for the enjoyment and benefit of the world. But even more importantly, I'm wondering what it is I'm truly passionate about.

I don't know. Off the top of my head, I'd say a number of things: people, stories, art, music, relationships, books, writing, photos, beauty, etc. But I don't really know if I am. I'm trying to think of the things that don't seem like work.

I think one of those things is speaking publicly. I actually quite love it. I also love making beauty somehow, or maybe it's just representing beauty. I love to capture beautiful melodies in my head onto scribbled chord in my head. I love to write or read beautiful phrases, that conjure beautiful images or feelings in my heart. I love to put together outfits that just somehow "meld" right. I love to hear beautiful music. I love to create and serve beautiful and tasty food. I love to look through the lens of my camera and see beauty in something minute or insignificant.

But is loving something the same has having a passion for it? I don't know. I wish I had a definitive idea of what it is I'm passionate about. I feel like there's a lot of things I SHOULD be passionate about, but I'm not. And I feel like there's a variety of things I enjoy which I should probably not focus on, for practicality and maturity reasons. But I'm not sure what it is that drives me.

Maybe I don't have a passion? And if so, what would that mean?

Humble Pie and Faithful Friends

I feel strangely obligated to write here. I just posted on my other blog (the one where I do more of my Bible-related musings; check out the "Shulke Safari" link over to the right, and the 074 entry if you're curious), and since I don't want to repeat myself, I actually don't know exactly what to write, but I'll post a little something all the same.

Today seems like as good of thing as anything to focus on.

I met with my boss today and talked about the class she observed me teach last week. It was a good meeting, in the sense that it felt very constructive and helpful. It was a tough meeting in the sense that it was humbling to realize (coming from the mouth of another person, I might add, not just my anxious thoughts and nudging fears) that no, of course, I am not perfect. In fact, I have much to learn and many ways to grow.

While I definitely feel I've learned a LOT about teaching in the past year and a half, and I do believe that God has graciously gifted me with some natural flair for teaching (or at least a genuine appreciation for people and learning and seeing people learn), there are still areas to work on.

The good news? I can most certainly work on these areas. In fact, I am drawn to the fact that my boss gave me some specific areas to focus on, and thanks to her own vast experience teaching and exposure to various teachers and teaching styles, so very helpful tips and suggestions.

The bad news? My pride most certainly does not want to be reminded of my shortcomings.

Ugh. Sometimes I really disgust myself.

To further drive home the point that I am oh-so-fallible and human and do NOT control my life like I'm sometimes tempted to think, my car wouldn't start today. This is not the first time it has failed to start on the first attempt, but I've always just walked away and come back to it later, and somehow (amazingly!) it starts (I wonder if Poppy is rather progressive for a car in this county in the sense that he seems to absorb solar energy or something). Today I had no such luck.

Now, to preface that, I am not an extreme traditionalist; I do not think guys are the only ones who can understand cars. Granted, I am not a woman who knows a lot about them, but there are at least two girls in one of my classes who are in the auto tech program at school, and only one guy. I am feminist enough to believe women are perfectly capable of knowing how to operate and work on machinery. However, since I naturally seem to be disinclined to easily grasp the concepts of how my car works, when it fails to start, I don't really spend a lot of time trying to figure out why. I just start calling my list of "Please help me, I seem to be stuck in a problem I cannot take care of!" people.

That list mostly comprises of guys. God bless my guy friends!

There is nothing that makes me feel more helpless than car problems, because I know I'm completely at the mercy of whomever stops to help me. There is also nothing that makes me feel more single than car problems. This may be COMPLETELY unreasonable (and I'm probably placing incredibly unfair expectations on you gentlemen. Sorry!), but I have this crazy idea in my head that a significant other in my life would know something about cars (maybe it's that whole opposites attract/balance each other kind of thing. Maybe I figure I need someone who is capable of handling the practical side of these things). This could be based on the fact that every woman in my family always seems to defer anything remotely complicated about cars to the men in the family - my Dad, my uncles, my grandpa, my cousins, etc, always get the phone calls. Growing up, my Mom would always call my Dad (and if she couldn't get him, her brother) when she had car problems.

When I have car problems, I have to rely on my friends' boyfriends or husbands for help. My first call was to my buddy Rinat. He was in Portland. I was frustrated by my lack of control of the situation (and the meeting I'd just had), and I literally started crying right there on the phone when he said, "We need to figure out what's going on with your car. It's done this a few times lately, hasn't it?" I didn't really expect him to take my problem and assume some responsibility for it. It just seemed so kind of him to use the word "we" (thereby assuming some part in the process) rather than just "you." It made me feel not-quite-so-alone in dealing with this problem.

But, given he was an hour away, he deferred me to our friend (and my friend Claire's boyfriend) Jon. I don't usually call Jon, so he probably thought it was weird that I did. I asked if he was in downtown, and he wasn't, so I moved on along the list, BUT Jon texted me a few hours later to check in and see how the car was and what the problem was. Seriously?! I was, like, on the verge of tears all over again. What is WITH these guys and how they care about my problems!?

Next I called my friend Nate, who happens to also be my friend Mollee's boyfriend. He's come to my rescue before (flat tire last summer ring a bell?), but I just got his voicemail this time (I didn't leave a message, but guess what? He called me back a few hours later to say he'd seen he missed a call from me, and he just wanted to check in and see why I'd called).

Somewhere in there I texted my friend Julie, who lives near where I was stuck... err... parked, and she texted back to say her son, my friend Peter, was on his way over to give my car a jump.

Peter rocks. He pulled up beside me. I'd just been giving myself a 3 minute pep talk to stop the ridiculous crying (I mean, REALLY! Why was I crying? Sometimes I do not understand myself), and the moment I saw his smiling face, the tears started flowing again. I tried to just act normal - tears make people feel weird sometimes - but Peter just helped me get the cables hooked up, and then asked, "Are you alright? Frustrated?" I nodded [more tears]. He gave me a hug (whatever you do, reader, if I'm struggling to not cry and you hug me, I guarantee I will fail every time), had me start my car, and then took me over to get the battery tested.

It's old. It's not working. It needs to be replaced.

Sometimes I am so reminded of my humble position on this life path: I can't teach very well. I can't reverse the natural aging of my car battery. I certainly don't have someone to count on as my "go-to" individual for mechanical problems.

But at the same time, I cannot help being reminded of how blessed I am also. I have a God who orchestrates situations to remind me of my sin, point out my pride, provides opportunities to be humbled and repent, AND supplies a whole network of faithful friends who go above and beyond the call of duty, completely out of their way, to help me. Wow.

Lessons from Sarah

1 - Don't assume God is holding out on you for your detriment just because He COULD give you something and has chosen to not do it. His end goal is always His own glory - and refining you to realize it.

2 - Don't take action when your actions are based on bitterness, jealousy, envy, anger, selfishness, or spite. Just don't. It's always better to take no action OR act instead in love.

3 - Don't build expectations on projections built on "ifs" that are stacked on top of each other. "IF I can't have a baby, and IF Hagar can, then IF Hagar had Abram's baby, and IF Hagar is compliant and gives me the baby, then I can have a child through Hagar."

Worship God. Humble yourself. Repeat. Exponentially.

Yellow Leaves

It really is beautiful here. I love the vibrancy of the Pacific Northwest - the greenest of green almost all year, brilliant blue skies when the cloud cover moves out, and golden-yellow fall leaves. On days such as today, when I have no stack of papers to read and grade, no obligatory commitments to keep, and I can just waltz through life visiting with friends and rabbit trailing on the internet, I feel blessed. Beyond blessed, actually.

I went to a Wycliffe banquet tonight. I talked to a woman named Kathy who had lived in PNG for 21 years. Her husband was the speaker tonight. He had fascinating stories. So did she.

My office-mate, Allison, lived in central Africa for 2 years after she successfully passed her exams. She taught at a school. She is always relaying the most interesting, crazy, unbelievable memories.

My other office-mate, Becky, lived at a home for battered children right after she and her husband got married. They worked for 3 days, then had 6 days off. She learned heaps of valuable information. And learned how to deal with things like lice (ugh).

I love hearing these stories. I want to LIVE these stories. There's a discontentment in my heart that just won't settle. I've found a grad school I'm absolutely, freakishly interested in. I'm going to apply. But I also want to do the Peace Corp. I started that application last fall. I think I might finish it up - just to see what happens.

I don't think I'm ready to stop being single and free; I don't think I want to leave these doors open right now. I want to pick one and go for it. But I don't know which to pick: PC or MCP? PC first, then MCP? Or MCP first, then try the PC thing? And if I leave now, am I walking away from too many open doors? Relationally? Professionally? Ministryally? Irresponsibly?

I could leave my job for the PC - the PC is like professional development - and it would be a huge ministry in and of itself, but am I stepping outside the realm of valuable, impacting relationships? It's hard to have real, heart-to-heart relationships with friends when I'm time zones away - I know this from experience. And I have an informal responsibility to my grandparents - can I just leave them?

Is it irresponsible to leave my job for a Master's program? I know I'd have a lot of ministry opportunity in it, but would it be taking me away from here before I should? By making a commitment to a grad program (or the PC for that matter), am I choosing to NOT be committed in other, relational areas of my life?

Le Sigh. I feel like I've definitely stood at these crossroads before. Some things are clearer and more in focus, some things are just as fuzzy as when I was here before. When will I ever build up the gumption to just make my own decisions and stick with them? When will I ever stop fearing that I'm going to regret a choice I make? When will I ever stop letting that fear make my decisions for me?

Lord: Direction. Please.

Yellow Leaves remind me that yellow leaves. It's temporal in the sunset, in the fall trees, in the highlights in my hair. Something else always comes next. It's just making the decision to bring something about that I seem to be stuck on.

At the first sign of rain...

... one should rush inside, bundle into sweaters, wool socks, scarves, and sweats. Boil a kettle of water for tea, grab a blanket, and curl up with a good book on the couch.

At least, that's what I wish was the case.

For a change, I tried to "take it easy" this weekend. That doesn't mean I actually have - I've still had lists of things to do, phone calls to make, appointments to meet, photos to edit, papers to grade, piano to play, etc, BUT it does mean I didn't set an alarm yesterday morning (I seem to have lost the ability to sleep in, though. 7:30 hardly counts!), and I wore sweats. All day. And no make up.

A storm blew in yesterday and rain's been battering the roof and the wind is whipping the trees. I love the yellow and red and orange colors of fall. The leaves are so bright, it almost makes up for the grey, dismal skies. Storms seem to bring out the best of this season (with the one exception being that I hate wet pavement): the dip in the temperature, and the inhospitable forecast juxtaposed with the cheery hues seem to make me crave rest and lazy days. I think I'm ready for that.

I think, whatever you're doing, you should go find a window, put your feet up, and drink a hot cup of tea for a few minutes. Welcome Fall.

seasonal weekends

Friday: My alarm went off at 5:30 after a restless night (something that's finally become unusual). I was in my office by 7AM, out of my last classroom by 12:05, heading to Portland for the GRE test, and got hopelessly lost for about an hour on my way to the testing site, but fortunately had planned enough time to be OK with that. My Ivy-league grad-school expert friend called on my way home and I pulled over to talk for an hour about grad schools and testing and options. Two bonfires, a Muchas Gracias with my friend Mollee, and the rest of the drive home later, smelling of smoke and sleepy-eyed, I crawled into bed.

Moonlight from the bonfire location

Saturday:
Catch up conversations with my Mom and siblings, then off to town to run some errands before meeting my friend Isaac for coffee at the best coffee shop in town. Isaac is one of the gentlest guys I know - being around him is like being around an outpouring of peace. It's like I'd imagine being around Jesus is like. I headed off to Costco after my pumpkin latte, and then met up with my friend Amy and her family to shoot some photos for them.

Amy, Dennis, Cody, Jacob, and Bailey

I raced home (uh - kinda fast!), stripped out of my t-shirt, yoga pants, and trainers for a strapless LBD, heels, a cardi, and a bright flower in my hair to head to the local high school's homecoming dance. I was the chaperone in charge of keeping the punch bowl full. Another late night, another sleepy drive home, another 5 minutes of CS Lewis reading while I flossed my teeth before falling unconscious (Ever since going to Mexico on a dental mission trip a year and a half ago, I don't think I've missed one night of brushing and flossing my teeth. It was the best dental hygiene education ever. Seriously).

I'd just scarfed a bowl full of Greek Salad when Olivia took this..

Sunday:
An early morning debate about getting up and heading into Sunday school, or sleeping a bit longer. Sleep won, but I had a nice chunk of time for reading my Bible and conversing with my Creator, and a fantastic breakfast of toasted English muffin, fried egg white, and tuna spread. I was early to church (whoa - maybe I'm growin' up!), had a long conversation with my friends Adam and (intermittently) Denise, and then I went off to a cider press party approximately 500 yards from my church's porch. Along with the fresh squeezed apple juice was freshly fried donuts, and the anticipation of the afternoon's big event: Mud Football.


I've been to this party a couple different years, but never participated in the pig-wallowing-like event. This year I opted to buck up, brave the fearsome footballers, tie my hair back, and go try my hand at one of America's favorite sports. I think I finally understand what a "down" is. Sort of. And I understand why football can actually be fun to play! Although I was a bit panicky every time the ball came at me... Once, I caught the ball, turned to run toward the end zone, and there was a big guy in front of me that just picked me up, walked me over to the mud, and dropped me in. Oh yes. Nothing like cold mud oozing... everywhere.

Not too long after the game got underway; this was significantly cleaner than the final results

After scrubbing to "find some skin under all that mud," I settled into editing photos, drinking tea, and talking to a friend three time zones away. Sometimes I'm astounded by the blessings I get to experience packed into one weekend: friends, unique activities, opportunities, good music, good food, good beverages... I think it's a special perk of this particular season: Fall always seems to be the time when people grasp at opportunities and venture into unknown territory: students set off for college, summer has wound down and we realize we're not content going back to what life was like before it started, and with winter coming we reach for a way to stave off the dark, dismal days of the cold, wet season.


Or maybe it has more to do with this season of life - I'm idealistic, I'm too stupid to ration my energy better, I'm enthusiastic, I'm usually pretty optimistic, and I think more questions in an hour than some people probably think in a month of their lifetime (did you ever wonder what it would be like to be able to live in someone's brain for a couple hours? I think that would be fascinating). This all tends to prompt me out toward... something. I'm not even sure what, exactly. Am I seeking to create or conform to some kind of identity? Am I testing my hypothesis and philosophies? Do I search for something beautiful and inspiring in the mundane-ness of what I'm afraid of my life becoming? Hm.

Test study and thoughts on recent talks

Tomorrow I take the GREs. GRE stands for Graduate Record Examination, not Grand River Enterprises, which is a Colorado based company selling tobacco and bottled water, according to wikipedia. I'm a little nervous. Not a lot, just a little. I have three books that, together, have a page count of 1292. I've also been doing practice tests online. To be honest, I only picked up these three books today. I started the practice tests earlier this week. I'm going to spend another 30 minutes reviewing the math section, and then grade papers for awhile yet before I go to bed.

Usually, this is how tests work for me: I don't want to do it, so I put it off for as long as possible (SATs, GREs: same experience). I looked into various grad programs and made note of all the programs that DON'T require a GRE score. But then I realized that, if that was my determining factor on choosing a grad program, I was being a coward. It's a freakin' 3 hour test (the general one - the subject test is more extensive, I think, but I don't really know because I haven't really looked into it). I'm going to let 3 hours influence my ability to choose?

But this approach is slightly ironic because, as I mentioned, I really haven't studied much. My friend Zeph, who is usually right about these kinds of things because he's just smart like that, suggested that I study for them. I hope he's not offended by the fact that I'm pretty much directly opposing his suggestion. It isn't because I don't think it's a good suggestion - I'm sure it is! But rather, I'm just lazy. I don't really WANT to spend a bunch of time on this test. I want to just get it over with. So, in a way, my lack of attention IS letting these 3 hours determine my grad school future. Pathetic, isn't it?

I think this is my strategy, however: I will take the test tomorrow and see how I do. I've reviewed, but I haven't really tried to learn anything new for it at this point. I'm just trying to refresh my memory for what I already know. If I get a score I'm not happy with (honestly, I have no idea of what I'd be happy with, though), I can retake the test. Granted, it's expensive (these tests always are!), but I'd also have some kind of baseline to work from. If I get scores that I'm happy with as they are, I'll leave it be, apply away to various programs, and see what happens. At least I know there are programs out there that don't require GRE scores!

In other news, I was up entirely too late on Tuesday night at my friends Mollee and Chrystal's place, making cookies for one of my classes. Mollee and her boyfriend, Nate, are two of my local favorites. Mollee is vicarious, beautiful, fun, spontaneous, lively, honest, and usually way overcommitted (I understand that!). Nate is genuine, candid, witty, musical, ADD (sometimes), random, joyful, and dependable. I think they make a great couple. Mollee and I meet for coffee usually at least once a week, and our conversations often range into the realm of our understandings of relationships, God, personalities, people, and the execution of our faith. I don't frequently hang out with just Nate and Mollee on a more personal level - if I'm with both, it tends to be in larger social settings. This evening was a bit unusual in the one-on-one (or, rather, one-on-two) nature of it.

I really like talking to people who are in relationship with each other. There's a different vibe than talking to people who just know each other. Chrystal was in on some of the conversation too, which was also beneficial because she's getting married in January, and we were talking about relationships. I made the assertion that relationships seem to take a heck of a lot of energy. Maybe it's because I'm tired, or I'm feeling especially lazy (that seems to be a theme of this post, doesn't it?), but I just feel overwhelmed by relating to people, you know? My grandparents had a dog for 3 days and he made me really, really happy. But then he had to return to his previous owners because he had too much energy for them to handle. I cannot imagine the emotional energy it would take for me to "be in a relationship." Part of me is curious about this strange thing - perhaps we're always curious about what we don't have - but a significant part of me is almost repelled by it.

Nate said, no, it wasn't exhausting for him to be in a relationship with Mollee. He claimed that when you're in a healthy relationship with someone that loves you, it's actually refreshing to be with them. You can be completely yourself and rest in the trust that they'll love you regardless.

Maybe that's my problem. I'm not sure I completely believe that possibility is out there for me. I tend to focus so much on either a) what I want and am pursuing, or b) what I perceive the other people around me to want in regards to me, that I'm not sure how to just be myself. I'm distracted by trying to be someone or something I'm not.

How do we get to know ourselves? Is it important to get to know ourselves? Maybe I just need to put it all to rest and focus on other things. Maybe identity is like happiness - if you pursue it alone, you'll never find it. But if you pursue holiness, you'll arrive at happiness (Side note: I just read that only 10% of our happiness comes from our circumstances. The other 90% is derived from our attitude and perspective on life. I'm not sure if this excites me or terrifies me).

I don't know. And, because I've exhausted myself thinking about and pondering this subject, and because I'm lazy, I'm not sure I care enough to try to come to the end of it. I just care more than I want to, because I care a little bit, and that makes me feel like I should try to get to the bottom of the question.

I Might Journey to the Dark Side

It's a possibility... It's a contemplation... I just... haven't quite decided.

Tonight I found myself on the PETA website. I realize this isn't the case for everyone, but the word "peta" is a BAD four letter word in my family. Those are the extremists. They're the unreasonable freaks. They care more about animals than they do about people. They're weird. They're bad.

But... what about if they're actually right on about some things?

I know I'm probably weird in this, but I think about food. Not, like, what sounds good to eat (although that is interesting too), but rather, what is good for me to eat? I passed out in the shower last weekend. I think it was because my blood sugar level was low. I have no proof, but I know I hadn't eaten in, like, 20 hours, and once I gulped some week-old-leftover-flat-Sprite (whilst laying on my floor with shampoo in my hair because everything had gone black in the middle of the showering process, and I just turned the water off, slid down the wall, and waited for my vision to return so I could crawl out to where the Sprite was sitting on my headboard from my feverish state the previous week), I felt less shaky. I even had the energy to go downstairs to find some almonds and a banana.

I've always seemed to struggle with this food thing. My mom says I was an easy baby, except when I was hungry. When I was hungry, I was hungry. In high school I remember I'd get up and eat a bowl of Raisin Bran within 15 minutes of waking up, or else I'd start to feel shaky, I'd get a headache, and I'd be cranky. It's been a lot better in the last few years, - I've even been able to successfully go half a day or a full day without eating as the occasion calls - but I still tend to carry a Larabar or fresh fruit or string cheese in my purse "just in case." It isn't often I have these black-out episodes nowadays, but they act as a type of reality check when I do.

It seems absolutely amazing to me that our bodies can manage to deal with the crap we put into it. I see my students gulp Rockstars and Red Bulls and Mountain Dew, eat those Hostess donuts and Pringles and Costco muffins, and I wonder, "How does the human body function on this stuff?" I cannot even pronounce or identify most of the stuff listed in the ingredients. What has caused us to become so consumed with taste or texture or convenience or whatever it is that drives this craziness to compromise on the nutritional quality of what we're eating?

If I tried to pour the grease left over from Papa Pete's Pizza into my car to drive on, it would never work. Why do our bodies function on it? It doesn't seem like they should.

I can only conclude that God has done an amazingly merciful thing in making the human body, with it's adaptability to various foods being one of the primary examples. However, much like poverty or human trafficking, I feel like once I'm somewhat knowledgeable about this issue, I simply cannot continue along my merry way acting oblivious and living naively. Obviously, food seems slightly less significant than those other issues, but somehow I can't shake this feeling like it's still important.

So, I continue to wonder, what IS the best way to eat? What's the best way to steward my body in this department? I like cheese and ice cream - but it DOES seem weird to consume another species' baby food. I love sugar and whole wheat toast with butter on it, but are either really necessary for me? I feel like it's easy for me to eat the grains (most of the time those are "healthy" grains - oatmeal, brown rice, whole wheat bread, etc), and certainly not a problem to integrate sweets and fats into my diet (cookie dough, anyone?!), but I'm really bad about keeping vegetables in focus (fruit not so much - it's sweet!). Meat provides valuable protein, I understand, but it doesn't give anything in the way of minerals or fiber. It just seems like there are so many options available that I'm stuck in this stupid "paralysis of analysis," or "optioned-out" place. That's why I finally stopped wearing deodorant. I couldn't handle the deodorant aisle and the decision of what brand and what smell to get. That's also why I started buying my cold cereal in the organics section - they have less options. I just don't want all the possibilities laid out in front of me!

Nevertheless, I like the idea of a good challenge. However, I wonder to what extremes I should take in my diet. I'd love to have the self discipline to truly eat "healthy," to feed my body like I was putting fine grade fuel in an expensive car... IF I only knew what was absolutely the best fuel. But I'm also terribly weak in my conviction. Thus, I'm still toying with the possibilities... and meanwhile, that oatmeal-chocolate-chip cookie dough in my fridge sounds SO good.

Tears

I've been thinking about crying lately.

Crying is a gift. It's a gift on many levels. It's a gift to yourself validating a physical expression of a non-physical feeling (ie: emotions). It's the cryer's gift of trust to God, knowing that He sees all and can be trusted to witness this expression of emotion. Crying is also a gift to those around you, a symbol of security in who they are, and its the gift of an opportunity allowing them the chance to comfort you. It's also the gift of openness, demonstrating that emotions are valid, normal, and expressible.

I feel like I cry pretty easily. I try to avoid it in public - really, I do! But it seems tears ride pretty close to the surface for me more frequently than I'd prefer. Most easily, I cry when I'm mad, but also when I'm tired. It seems like crying is my body's natural tendency when I have some kind of excessive emotion that I don't know how else to channel. I always feel like an idiot crying around other people, but it doesn't bother me to have someone cry around me. In fact, I usually feel honored that they would trust me with their tears - or at least trust me with their openness. There's relatively few people that I feel safe crying around, but sometime, when I cry in the presence of trusted friends, that's when I feel safest. That seems like a strange line of logic.

I remember specific cries: I've cried into the arms of my friend Julie, with her husband Pete there gently patting my back (they're very soothing people to cry around). I've cried in the company of my friend Bri in the dark of her car a few days before her wedding (I think her fiance knew I'd been crying after we walked into his house and he probably didn't know what the heck was going on - poor Devin!). I've bawled standing under the harsh florescent lights in front of my Mom last January before having a skype conversation with my friend Anthony (I knew what I was going to say and what I was going to do, but I didn't want to at all). I've cried countless times to my sister Heath over school stress or relationship stress with our parents or guys (and she STILL listens to me!). And recently, I cried talking to my friend Stephanie in her little Indian kitchen over the general pain that seems to be accumulating in my heart as I look at the world (broken bodies held in my arms, sad situations on the street, etc - thank goodness Steph knows that environment too).

But there have also been so many times I've cried alone, with only God as my witness. After I broke up with DeWayne several years ago, I think I cried every day the month of October while I house sat in a lodge-like house with dark wood paneling on the walls and a rocking chair by the wood stove. During the long, lonely weeks in Italy when I first moved there, I cried from the ache of homesickness and lack of friends as I wandered through the city streets at night or sat at the top of what became my favorite set of stairs looking at the whirling car lights below me. My ever-companionable car, Poppy, has felt the drop of tears on his steering wheel SO many times when a song comes on that reminds me of a painful memory or brings a vivid picture to my mind of smiles and jokes and security that no longer exists. Last December I stood on the banks of the Red Sea during a storm crying over the news that the search for my friend's body on Mt. Hood had been called off. And I cannot even count how many airplane windows I've cried beside, looking at vast expanses of open blue skies and fluffy white clouds at 30,000 feet, as I flew away from people I loved and situations I didn't want to or feel prepared to walk away from.

I was talking to my friend Rochelle today about expectations and ideals. I am an idealist. My preference is to gaze at the future through rose-colored glasses. I could spend all my time doing that pretty easily I think. But I've also been learning that I don't want to. I refuse to exist living with my mind on the future or possibilities at the expense of the present. I realized that most of my tears are founded on the pain and hurt of when I'm forced to realize my ideals and expectations are not going to be reality.

That decisions is easier said than done, though. It seems, like John Mayer, I'm able to grasp this with "half of my heart." But that means the other half still doesn't get it. I suppose that means my pillow and precious friends will continue to witness my tears.

"I was born in the arms of imaginary friends

Free to roam, made a home out of everywhere I'd been...

Half of my heart's got a grip on the situation

Half of my heart takes time.

Half of my heart's got a right mind to tell you that

I can't keep loving you, I can't keep loving you

With half of my heart..."