Sometimes I think I am a bit of a grinch. I do love Christmas, but in a very temperamental and unpredictable way. Even though I look forward to all of our fabulous Christmas traditions, such as traipsing through feet of snow to cut down a Christmas tree, celebrating Christmas as an immediate family one day early, and many other top-secret traditions, I can't handle Christmas music on the radio. Radio Christmas music makes me grumpy, a fact which has led to a week or so of profound silence in my life.
During one of these profound silences, I picked up my Bible that I have had all my life. As I have read through that Bible, I have underlined, circled, and starred some favorite verses. For really special verses I do all three. Some carefully marked verses about peace really caught my eye, especially because they relate to Christmas. Allow me to share.
Isaiah 9:6
"For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."
When I learned rhetoric ages ago, the fact that the most powerful argument comes last in any persuasive speech was firmly ingrained into my very brain. Someday, when I have open brain surgery (hmmmm...) the surgeon will find a curious thing. He will look at my brain and see a few permanent physical impressions. "Norman conquest: 1066" will be the most noticeable imprint, closely followed by "delivery is the most important part of rhetoric" and "second strongest argument, other arguments, strongest argument." I don't know if that principle is at work here, but it is an interesting thought. Perhaps the title "Prince of Peace" comes last in the sequence because it is the most important name of Jesus? Perhaps the concept of peace is the most fundamental aspect of Christ? This suspicion is confirmed in II Corinthians 5:17-19.
"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men's sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation."
The word reconciliation is obviously important here. Is this passage saying that the incarnation was a move of reconciliation on God's part? Jesus came to reconcile man to God? I think... yes. Not only does this passage provide insight into the incarnation, it also provides us with a charge. We are ambassadors with the message of reconciliation. We are to be reconciled not only to God, but to our fellow man. The message of Christmas, and indeed of the entire incarnation, is one of peace. When we are at peace with God and with others, we are living out the spirit of the incarnation--we are living the spirit of Christmas. I will take a spirit of peace over radio Christmas songs any day!
Friday, December 26, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
"what are you doing?"
"I'm sitting in the sink, what does it look like I'm doing?" I grinned at my sister and she rolled her eyes at me.
Today I was cold. Not only was my exterior chilled, my interior was quite cool as well after my smoothie lunch. So after I finished my smoothie, I announced that I was going to go sit in the sink. No one believed me. That is, until my younger sister walked into the kitchen to find me perched cozily on the counter, my freezing feet and hands stuck in some nice, hot water. It felt amazing. As I sat there, periodically adding more hot water, I thought about life and about how amazing hot water is. No one takes time to notice how wonderful it feels to warm up, but it is a pretty cool thing! When I crawl into bed at night, I like to be a little bit chilly, just so I can pull the covers up under my chin and fall asleep as I begin to feel all warm and cozy and safe. When it is cold outside, it feels great to put on some mittens and a scarf or to come inside. And when it is cold inside, there is nothing more satisfying than sticking your cold extremities in some steaming hot water. Ahhh... the simple pleasures of life.
(Little kids, by the way, have simple pleasures all figured out, and it amazes me how many adults become... well, adults. They forget the innocence and the wonder of childhood. I hope I never lose that childlike spirit.)
After I had finished pondering life, I thoughtfully made a newspaper boat and set it afloat in my sink. Some time later, as my boat slowly listed to the side and started taking on water, I grabbed a spoon and began gently bailing out my tiny craft. I succeeded. But then a terrible storm came up (its intensity was startling, almost as if someone had turned a faucet on full blast above the foundering vessel). I watched in horror as the boat sank, but was delighted to see that everyone survived and was swimming strongly toward the edge of the sink. My attention was diverted as a fierce sea monster attacked from the depths of the drain and chomped the boat flat, but all the people had already escaped, so it was okay. A long while after the sea monster was through munching and all the people had been rescued by kind sinkside villagers, a huge whirlpool appeared and sucked the soggy paper boat almost to the bottom of the sea (but I had to rescue it before it clogged up the drain). I then dried off my toes and put on some wool socks. Yay!
My sister thinks I'm crazy. I think she's right. I wouldn't be much surprised if one day some people came and took me to a place with padded pink walls. Until then, however, I'll occasionally enjoy simple little pleasures like hot water and paper boats and imaginations. It keeps things in perspective and it makes life beautiful.
Today I was cold. Not only was my exterior chilled, my interior was quite cool as well after my smoothie lunch. So after I finished my smoothie, I announced that I was going to go sit in the sink. No one believed me. That is, until my younger sister walked into the kitchen to find me perched cozily on the counter, my freezing feet and hands stuck in some nice, hot water. It felt amazing. As I sat there, periodically adding more hot water, I thought about life and about how amazing hot water is. No one takes time to notice how wonderful it feels to warm up, but it is a pretty cool thing! When I crawl into bed at night, I like to be a little bit chilly, just so I can pull the covers up under my chin and fall asleep as I begin to feel all warm and cozy and safe. When it is cold outside, it feels great to put on some mittens and a scarf or to come inside. And when it is cold inside, there is nothing more satisfying than sticking your cold extremities in some steaming hot water. Ahhh... the simple pleasures of life.
(Little kids, by the way, have simple pleasures all figured out, and it amazes me how many adults become... well, adults. They forget the innocence and the wonder of childhood. I hope I never lose that childlike spirit.)
After I had finished pondering life, I thoughtfully made a newspaper boat and set it afloat in my sink. Some time later, as my boat slowly listed to the side and started taking on water, I grabbed a spoon and began gently bailing out my tiny craft. I succeeded. But then a terrible storm came up (its intensity was startling, almost as if someone had turned a faucet on full blast above the foundering vessel). I watched in horror as the boat sank, but was delighted to see that everyone survived and was swimming strongly toward the edge of the sink. My attention was diverted as a fierce sea monster attacked from the depths of the drain and chomped the boat flat, but all the people had already escaped, so it was okay. A long while after the sea monster was through munching and all the people had been rescued by kind sinkside villagers, a huge whirlpool appeared and sucked the soggy paper boat almost to the bottom of the sea (but I had to rescue it before it clogged up the drain). I then dried off my toes and put on some wool socks. Yay!
My sister thinks I'm crazy. I think she's right. I wouldn't be much surprised if one day some people came and took me to a place with padded pink walls. Until then, however, I'll occasionally enjoy simple little pleasures like hot water and paper boats and imaginations. It keeps things in perspective and it makes life beautiful.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
a state of war
As of right now, I have officially woken up, eaten breakfast, drunk a latte, and taken a terrifying final (and I hope totally knocked it out of the park). Right now I am listening to the Holes soundtrack and... blogging, of course! Tonight I leave for home... I think. It is snowing again, but hopefully that won't affect my flights. Please keep my travels in your prayers!
In other news, I like basketball. I am going to share with you a little secret of mine. I have always enjoyed thinking about basketball as a small war, full of strategies, strengths, weaknesses, and small skirmishes. For example, when a player on the opposing team has the ball, I am hyper-alert, ready to stop her shot. When she does shoot, I particularly like blocking her shot. To be honest, I enjoy blocking people because it is cool and makes me feel like a pro, but I also let out my held breath and think, "there you go, team. I just stopped an enemy shot from even being fired. Now it is up to us to do some damage." Perhaps a little morbid and weird, but I think fairly accurate. Anyway, regardless of whether I have an overactive imagination, this attitude gives me an almost super-human power of concentration, intensity, and focus during games. I use battle mode to my advantage.
I want to share with you another perspective, that of Ed Welch, quoted in one of John Piper's sermons. Here is what Mr. Welch (Mr. Ed? I just undermined your view of him, didn't I? Please try to listen to his point without seeing a talking horse. Haha. Now what will you be thinking of the entire time? I know how your mind works, and I just made fun of it.) has to say.
In all seriousness:
"There is a mean streak to authentic self-control. Self-control is not for the timid. When we want to grow in it, not only do we nurture an exuberance for Jesus Christ, we also demand of ourselves a hatred for sin. The only possible attitude toward out-of-control desire is a declaration of all-out war. There is something about war that sharpens the senses. You hear a twig snap or the rustling of leaves and you are in attack mode. Someone coughs and you are ready to pull the trigger. Even after days of little of no sleep, war keeps us vigilant."
Are you at peace with sin in your own life, or have you declared war upon it and entered a total attack mode? I urge you to never adopt a peacetime mentality toward sin!! When Sin knocks, do you welcome him in and perhaps let him warm his toes by your fire? Are you even aware that it is Sin you are entertaining? I challenge you to saturate yourself with God and his Word. Then, through the wisdom you have learned from the Bible, you will be able to recognize Sin in whatever form he takes, and you will be able to fight him. You will look at an idea or worldview or philosophy or plan and immediately think, "that is sin. Here he comes. Lord, help me resist him!" Be vigilant. Know what sin looks like, sounds like, feels like. Sharpen your senses so you can identify sin, and when you notice his presence, react! Do not let him slip past unnoticed into your life and actions and attitudes! You are in a state of war. Be diligent, be pure, be holy, be vigilant.
In other news, I like basketball. I am going to share with you a little secret of mine. I have always enjoyed thinking about basketball as a small war, full of strategies, strengths, weaknesses, and small skirmishes. For example, when a player on the opposing team has the ball, I am hyper-alert, ready to stop her shot. When she does shoot, I particularly like blocking her shot. To be honest, I enjoy blocking people because it is cool and makes me feel like a pro, but I also let out my held breath and think, "there you go, team. I just stopped an enemy shot from even being fired. Now it is up to us to do some damage." Perhaps a little morbid and weird, but I think fairly accurate. Anyway, regardless of whether I have an overactive imagination, this attitude gives me an almost super-human power of concentration, intensity, and focus during games. I use battle mode to my advantage.
I want to share with you another perspective, that of Ed Welch, quoted in one of John Piper's sermons. Here is what Mr. Welch (Mr. Ed? I just undermined your view of him, didn't I? Please try to listen to his point without seeing a talking horse. Haha. Now what will you be thinking of the entire time? I know how your mind works, and I just made fun of it.) has to say.
In all seriousness:
"There is a mean streak to authentic self-control. Self-control is not for the timid. When we want to grow in it, not only do we nurture an exuberance for Jesus Christ, we also demand of ourselves a hatred for sin. The only possible attitude toward out-of-control desire is a declaration of all-out war. There is something about war that sharpens the senses. You hear a twig snap or the rustling of leaves and you are in attack mode. Someone coughs and you are ready to pull the trigger. Even after days of little of no sleep, war keeps us vigilant."
Are you at peace with sin in your own life, or have you declared war upon it and entered a total attack mode? I urge you to never adopt a peacetime mentality toward sin!! When Sin knocks, do you welcome him in and perhaps let him warm his toes by your fire? Are you even aware that it is Sin you are entertaining? I challenge you to saturate yourself with God and his Word. Then, through the wisdom you have learned from the Bible, you will be able to recognize Sin in whatever form he takes, and you will be able to fight him. You will look at an idea or worldview or philosophy or plan and immediately think, "that is sin. Here he comes. Lord, help me resist him!" Be vigilant. Know what sin looks like, sounds like, feels like. Sharpen your senses so you can identify sin, and when you notice his presence, react! Do not let him slip past unnoticed into your life and actions and attitudes! You are in a state of war. Be diligent, be pure, be holy, be vigilant.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
why yes, I do use shoe polish to excess
I am enjoying my required psychology course, but let me just say that it isn't exactly what I expected. The field of psychology (which my teachers hinted at but I uneasily argued away) is entirely too prone to ridiculousness. Psychologists, in the name of science, snuff blindly around with their magnifying glasses and crooked little thinking caps and come up with findings in utter defiance to (or in entire obviousness to) common sense. Some of the things I am learning are very interesting and valuable, but I would say that much of psychology could be technically labeled "fluff."
As an example, the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory. This controversial test is used to detect heaven knows what in its takers. Probably whatever the person giving the test wants to detect. Some of its questions include, "no one seems to understand me," "I get all the sympathy I should," and "I like poetry." That is all I am going to say about that. A gentleman named Art Buchwald has a very refreshing position on the MMPI. Art is a good man. Here is his alternative test to the MMPI, and it is quite clearly as effective a tool as the original for tapping into the unconscious and providing a solid psychological analysis.
Ladies and gentlemen, sharpen your pencils in preparation for the North Dakota Null-Hypothesis Brain Inventory!
Please answer true (T) or false (F) to the following questions:
1. I salivate at the sight of mittens.
2. If I go into the street, I'm apt to be bitten by a horse.
3. Some people never look at me.
4. Spinach makes me feel alone.
5. When I look down from a high spot, I want to spit.
6. I like to kill mosquitoes.
7. Cousins are not to be trusted.
8. It makes me embarrassed to fall down.
9. I get nauseous from too much roller skating.
10. I think most people would cry to gain a point.
11. I cannot read or write.
12. I am bored by thoughts of death.
13. I become homicidal when people try to reason with me.
14. I would enjoy the work of a chicken flicker.
15. I am never startled by a fish.
16. My mother's uncle was a good man.
17. I don't like it when somebody is rotten.
18. People who break the law are wise guys.
19. I have never gone to pieces over the weekend.
20. I think beavers work too hard.
21. I use shoe polish to excess.
22. God is love.
23. I like mannish children.
24. I have always been disturbed by the sight of Lincoln's ears.
25. I always let people go ahead of me at swimming pools.
26. Most of the time I go to sleep without saying goodbye.
27. I am not afraid of picking up doorknobs.
28. I believe I smell as good as most people.
29. Frantic screams make me nervous.
30. It's hard for me to say the right thing when I find myself in a room full of mice.
31. I would never tell my nickname in a crisis.
32. A wide necktie is a sign of disease.
33. As I child I was deprived of licorice.
34. I would never shake hands with a gardener.
35. My eyes are always cold.
(source: Art Buchwald's North Dakota Null-Hypothesis Brain Inventory (1965). Quoted in Blumenfield, W.S. (1972). "I am never startled by a fish." APA Monitor, 3(9,10), 3, 14.)
As an example, the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory. This controversial test is used to detect heaven knows what in its takers. Probably whatever the person giving the test wants to detect. Some of its questions include, "no one seems to understand me," "I get all the sympathy I should," and "I like poetry." That is all I am going to say about that. A gentleman named Art Buchwald has a very refreshing position on the MMPI. Art is a good man. Here is his alternative test to the MMPI, and it is quite clearly as effective a tool as the original for tapping into the unconscious and providing a solid psychological analysis.
Ladies and gentlemen, sharpen your pencils in preparation for the North Dakota Null-Hypothesis Brain Inventory!
Please answer true (T) or false (F) to the following questions:
1. I salivate at the sight of mittens.
2. If I go into the street, I'm apt to be bitten by a horse.
3. Some people never look at me.
4. Spinach makes me feel alone.
5. When I look down from a high spot, I want to spit.
6. I like to kill mosquitoes.
7. Cousins are not to be trusted.
8. It makes me embarrassed to fall down.
9. I get nauseous from too much roller skating.
10. I think most people would cry to gain a point.
11. I cannot read or write.
12. I am bored by thoughts of death.
13. I become homicidal when people try to reason with me.
14. I would enjoy the work of a chicken flicker.
15. I am never startled by a fish.
16. My mother's uncle was a good man.
17. I don't like it when somebody is rotten.
18. People who break the law are wise guys.
19. I have never gone to pieces over the weekend.
20. I think beavers work too hard.
21. I use shoe polish to excess.
22. God is love.
23. I like mannish children.
24. I have always been disturbed by the sight of Lincoln's ears.
25. I always let people go ahead of me at swimming pools.
26. Most of the time I go to sleep without saying goodbye.
27. I am not afraid of picking up doorknobs.
28. I believe I smell as good as most people.
29. Frantic screams make me nervous.
30. It's hard for me to say the right thing when I find myself in a room full of mice.
31. I would never tell my nickname in a crisis.
32. A wide necktie is a sign of disease.
33. As I child I was deprived of licorice.
34. I would never shake hands with a gardener.
35. My eyes are always cold.
(source: Art Buchwald's North Dakota Null-Hypothesis Brain Inventory (1965). Quoted in Blumenfield, W.S. (1972). "I am never startled by a fish." APA Monitor, 3(9,10), 3, 14.)
Thursday, December 4, 2008
grump
This word seemed to be the totally irrational refrain of my afternoon. You know, we have an awesome, awesome Christmas tree up in our courtyard that smells amazing and looks beautiful. grump. I listened to recordings of some of Haydn's most beautiful masses today. grump. I got a 95% on a paper I worked extremely hard on in a Williamson class. I am pretty sure that less than three people earned A's on that project. grump. I ate a fantastic lunch today. grump. I have a set of amazing, amazing friends. grump. Don't ask me why... today was just a grump sort of day. Until tonight, that is.
On Wednesday nights, a group of students meets to just sing hymns and praise songs. We usually know about 3/4 of the songs, and we learn so many new and beautiful ones every week from each other. I really enjoy it. Over the course of the year, our group has slowly dwindled to a faithful quartet. Two guys, two girls. Soprano, alto, tenor, bass. We sing wonderful songs in sporadic, sometimes perfect harmony and have a blast doing it. I enjoy picturing God taking a little time out in his day to lean back in his chair and smile as he listens to our enthusiastic worship. Tonight we sang for three hours. Three hours! We sang from 8pm to llpm. We sang for a while, we learned a new song, we poked fun at each other and laughed, we talked about our spiritual walk as of late, we prayed, we laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. What is more, Remington, our African-American bass, suggested that I try something new with my voice. He is teaching me to sing his way. I am learning music from the standpoint of a totally new culture and it is so wonderful. I love it! I think that God, as he smiled down at us, was pleased by our worship, but also was enjoying observing the refreshment those three hours provided for our weary souls. Seriously, what sort of tired college students that you know of could sing for 3 hours? We have really become a special little group all our own. Remington writes music and he is going to write some songs for us to sing at Coffee Breath, our uniquely named talent show... of sorts. We have made all sorts of plans to do so many things together this year. Lord God, thank you for awesome fellowship with friends! You know just what will lighten my load, even on grump days.
On Wednesday nights, a group of students meets to just sing hymns and praise songs. We usually know about 3/4 of the songs, and we learn so many new and beautiful ones every week from each other. I really enjoy it. Over the course of the year, our group has slowly dwindled to a faithful quartet. Two guys, two girls. Soprano, alto, tenor, bass. We sing wonderful songs in sporadic, sometimes perfect harmony and have a blast doing it. I enjoy picturing God taking a little time out in his day to lean back in his chair and smile as he listens to our enthusiastic worship. Tonight we sang for three hours. Three hours! We sang from 8pm to llpm. We sang for a while, we learned a new song, we poked fun at each other and laughed, we talked about our spiritual walk as of late, we prayed, we laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. What is more, Remington, our African-American bass, suggested that I try something new with my voice. He is teaching me to sing his way. I am learning music from the standpoint of a totally new culture and it is so wonderful. I love it! I think that God, as he smiled down at us, was pleased by our worship, but also was enjoying observing the refreshment those three hours provided for our weary souls. Seriously, what sort of tired college students that you know of could sing for 3 hours? We have really become a special little group all our own. Remington writes music and he is going to write some songs for us to sing at Coffee Breath, our uniquely named talent show... of sorts. We have made all sorts of plans to do so many things together this year. Lord God, thank you for awesome fellowship with friends! You know just what will lighten my load, even on grump days.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
it's been a while...
...since I last posted--fourteen days, actually. Shame on me.
In the last two weeks I have turned in two large school projects, been actively recruited by another college's volleyball coach, totaled a car (yes, the news got out. Everyone seems to know, and if you didn't before, well now you do! The important thing to know, however, is that it was not my fault in the least. It was also not my car in the least, but let's not trifle with details. Praise the Lord that the young man at fault had insurance, and that I was not hurt worse than I was!), and made the long drive back home for Thanksgiving break. While here, I have spent as much time with as many people as I reasonably can. I have gone shopping, talked, ate so much non-cafeteria food that I can quite conceivably roll back to college, exchanged gifts, laughed, and... drunk coffee to excess. If anyone else in this town would like to take me out for a talk over coffee, now would be the time. I think I have drunk more coffee in the past week than I have... mostly in my entire life. It's true.
Tonight I am hanging out with a friend. We made caramel corn and watched a movie, and now my friend is straightening her hair and we are listening to Coldplay and I... am blogging and soothing my guilty conscience. But now it is time for me to go. I will post more later. Have an awesome Thanksgiving, everyone!!!
In the last two weeks I have turned in two large school projects, been actively recruited by another college's volleyball coach, totaled a car (yes, the news got out. Everyone seems to know, and if you didn't before, well now you do! The important thing to know, however, is that it was not my fault in the least. It was also not my car in the least, but let's not trifle with details. Praise the Lord that the young man at fault had insurance, and that I was not hurt worse than I was!), and made the long drive back home for Thanksgiving break. While here, I have spent as much time with as many people as I reasonably can. I have gone shopping, talked, ate so much non-cafeteria food that I can quite conceivably roll back to college, exchanged gifts, laughed, and... drunk coffee to excess. If anyone else in this town would like to take me out for a talk over coffee, now would be the time. I think I have drunk more coffee in the past week than I have... mostly in my entire life. It's true.
Tonight I am hanging out with a friend. We made caramel corn and watched a movie, and now my friend is straightening her hair and we are listening to Coldplay and I... am blogging and soothing my guilty conscience. But now it is time for me to go. I will post more later. Have an awesome Thanksgiving, everyone!!!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
male and female he created them
"My father was a man, and I know the sex pretty well." I read this quote in a delightful little book a few weeks ago, and I nearly choked on my banana. As preposterous as this confidence sounded to me, I knew that I was guilty of much the same thing. For a long time, this Calvin and Hobbes comic describes quite accurately my perception of boys.
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Boys like explosions, and they can run faster than girls (grrrr...). These two observations were quite enough for me for many years. I had boys figured out.
For the past few weeks in my communications class, we have been studying and discussing gender differences in communication. Apparently men and women communicate differently, and there is a lot more to understand about males than I had previously thought. I'm sure those of you older than myself have already observed what I am about to share, but for me this revelation is novel and astounding.
Allow me to outline the most fundamental concept to understanding gender differences in communication (and in pretty much every other area of life): men and women view the world through two very different lenses. Men and women both have the same two lenses, but they emphasize the lenses much differently.
Men view the world primarily through the lens of hierarchy. They see themselves as individuals, struggling to preserve independence and to avoid failure. For men, every situation and conversation is a bit of a challenge, in which one can either move one-up or one-down in the male hierarchy. This view of the world comes out in a million different ways. Have you ever noticed that in a group of guys there is always someone who is made fun of and picked on? This is because every guy in that group wants to have someone who is definitely below him in the hierarchy. Also, it is a well-known fact that guys are competitive. They have almost superhuman abilities to detect even a hint of a challenge to their ego. That too, is all about hierarchy.
Then, on the other side of the spectrum, we find women. Women. We females view the world primarily through the lens of connection. Women see themselves as part of a network of connections, and their primary concern is to preserve intimacy and avoid isolation. For women, every situation and conversation is an opportunity to create or maintain interpersonal connections, and females are always especially sensitive to others' attempts to push them away. This too, is manifested variously. Why do girls consult their best friends about everything from boys to hair to clothes to food to... who knows what else? Because talking and sharing those decisions builds connection. Why is it that girls can't even make solo trips to the bathroom? Because their world is one in which isolation is the ultimate fear.
This is so interesting for me!! I could cite multitudes of examples in my own life where a misunderstanding based on these two different lenses led to relational mini-disasters. This really is valuable stuff. Knowing and understanding the way people communicate, and how men and women communicate differently, can prevent a whole boatload of misunderstandings and miscommunications. Also, being informed of how people view the world and view their interactions with others will help me to be more thoughtful and considerate in my own interpersonal interactions. I like it. =)
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Boys like explosions, and they can run faster than girls (grrrr...). These two observations were quite enough for me for many years. I had boys figured out.
For the past few weeks in my communications class, we have been studying and discussing gender differences in communication. Apparently men and women communicate differently, and there is a lot more to understand about males than I had previously thought. I'm sure those of you older than myself have already observed what I am about to share, but for me this revelation is novel and astounding.
Allow me to outline the most fundamental concept to understanding gender differences in communication (and in pretty much every other area of life): men and women view the world through two very different lenses. Men and women both have the same two lenses, but they emphasize the lenses much differently.
Men view the world primarily through the lens of hierarchy. They see themselves as individuals, struggling to preserve independence and to avoid failure. For men, every situation and conversation is a bit of a challenge, in which one can either move one-up or one-down in the male hierarchy. This view of the world comes out in a million different ways. Have you ever noticed that in a group of guys there is always someone who is made fun of and picked on? This is because every guy in that group wants to have someone who is definitely below him in the hierarchy. Also, it is a well-known fact that guys are competitive. They have almost superhuman abilities to detect even a hint of a challenge to their ego. That too, is all about hierarchy.
Then, on the other side of the spectrum, we find women. Women. We females view the world primarily through the lens of connection. Women see themselves as part of a network of connections, and their primary concern is to preserve intimacy and avoid isolation. For women, every situation and conversation is an opportunity to create or maintain interpersonal connections, and females are always especially sensitive to others' attempts to push them away. This too, is manifested variously. Why do girls consult their best friends about everything from boys to hair to clothes to food to... who knows what else? Because talking and sharing those decisions builds connection. Why is it that girls can't even make solo trips to the bathroom? Because their world is one in which isolation is the ultimate fear.
This is so interesting for me!! I could cite multitudes of examples in my own life where a misunderstanding based on these two different lenses led to relational mini-disasters. This really is valuable stuff. Knowing and understanding the way people communicate, and how men and women communicate differently, can prevent a whole boatload of misunderstandings and miscommunications. Also, being informed of how people view the world and view their interactions with others will help me to be more thoughtful and considerate in my own interpersonal interactions. I like it. =)
Sunday, November 9, 2008
some stories
The thing about biking to a church over four miles away is that you really get to experience the trip so much more personally. At the beginning of the year there was a lavender bed on the way that I absolutely loved passing because it smelled so good. Then came the smell of wood smoke floating in the chilly fall air. It made me feel cozy. Soon apples fell from the trees over the road and left little fruity reminders of the richness of harvest. The apple tree was right at the top of a hill too, so I had plenty of time to observe them as I downshifted and crawled over the hill. Then recently there were the unfortunate remnants of pumpkin-smashing expeditions left all over the bike lane. These are all cool little things that you would never notice all snuggled up and flying along in the backseat of a car.
A couple weeks ago I rode to church in gale-force winds. I almost turned around and attended the church right next to my school, but something about the challenge of the elements attracted me. Foolish, I know, but there it is. I made it, but it was grueling. I have only gone bicycling into a headwind once before, and it was miserable then too. But um... I guess it was a good workout?
But then there is today. As I walked into church I talked to several people, just about things. One older woman said that it was too bad I had to ride my bike in the rain. I assured her that it wasn't raining, and actually it wasn't too cold either. I remarked that I was very fortunate to have had such pleasant traveling weather all year long. I have only made two trips in a very light rain. Ha! On my way back today, it rained. I mean really rained. It wasn't quite a monsoon. I think it might have been a little worse. I bicycled back quite rapidly, under the mistaken impression that the faster I went, the drier I would be. Ha! As water dripped steadily off my helmet onto my already drenched dress pants, I felt the mud splattering off my back tire into the mid-back stripe so characteristic of bad-weather bikers. Really though, the ride was not bad at all. Fortunately it was still fairly warm so I was not chilled to the bone. Praise God for mittens and waterproof jackets, is all I have to say about that experience.
I reached campus in one soggy, happy piece. As I walked through the door of my dorm, I saw two of my roommate's friends excitedly chattering as they hurried down the stairs. I rolled my eyes. It would have to happen this way. Kristina had been excited all week long about her date this afternoon. She had particularly wanted me to meet this young man, and there they all were, through the doorway to my right. I stepped through the doorway, smiled, and shook hands with Kristina's date, just as though I was thoroughly accustomed to meeting new people looking as if I had recently been dragged from the middle of a very wet pond. After saying that I was indeed pleased to meet him and exchanging pleasant observations about the lovely weather we've been having lately, I sloshed away to fetch my umbrella for the couple to borrow.
I cannot help but laugh at my amazing social grace today. I have no idea what impression I made on Kristina's date, but hopefully he's partial to roommates whose dripping jackets leave small puddles wherever their inhabitants stand.
A couple weeks ago I rode to church in gale-force winds. I almost turned around and attended the church right next to my school, but something about the challenge of the elements attracted me. Foolish, I know, but there it is. I made it, but it was grueling. I have only gone bicycling into a headwind once before, and it was miserable then too. But um... I guess it was a good workout?
But then there is today. As I walked into church I talked to several people, just about things. One older woman said that it was too bad I had to ride my bike in the rain. I assured her that it wasn't raining, and actually it wasn't too cold either. I remarked that I was very fortunate to have had such pleasant traveling weather all year long. I have only made two trips in a very light rain. Ha! On my way back today, it rained. I mean really rained. It wasn't quite a monsoon. I think it might have been a little worse. I bicycled back quite rapidly, under the mistaken impression that the faster I went, the drier I would be. Ha! As water dripped steadily off my helmet onto my already drenched dress pants, I felt the mud splattering off my back tire into the mid-back stripe so characteristic of bad-weather bikers. Really though, the ride was not bad at all. Fortunately it was still fairly warm so I was not chilled to the bone. Praise God for mittens and waterproof jackets, is all I have to say about that experience.
I reached campus in one soggy, happy piece. As I walked through the door of my dorm, I saw two of my roommate's friends excitedly chattering as they hurried down the stairs. I rolled my eyes. It would have to happen this way. Kristina had been excited all week long about her date this afternoon. She had particularly wanted me to meet this young man, and there they all were, through the doorway to my right. I stepped through the doorway, smiled, and shook hands with Kristina's date, just as though I was thoroughly accustomed to meeting new people looking as if I had recently been dragged from the middle of a very wet pond. After saying that I was indeed pleased to meet him and exchanging pleasant observations about the lovely weather we've been having lately, I sloshed away to fetch my umbrella for the couple to borrow.
I cannot help but laugh at my amazing social grace today. I have no idea what impression I made on Kristina's date, but hopefully he's partial to roommates whose dripping jackets leave small puddles wherever their inhabitants stand.
pet peeves and faith
(Pet peeves and faith. That sounds like an interesting connection. Let's see how she pulls this one off...)
I would say, on the whole, that I am a pretty easy-going sort of person. Not that I always have been, of course, but honestly there are only a few things that really bother me. One of them is the utterly despicable word thigh. I don't know what it is about this word that makes me gag if it comes out of my mouth, makes me wince if I am forced to read it, and makes me abhor it from the very depths of my soul, but there it is. That word is an absolute disgrace to the English language, in my opinion. (shudder)
Another thing I don't like is when people say that there are no words to express what they are feeling, but then still insist upon using words (that they have just declared do not exist, mind you) to describe something that (as they have just stated) utterly defies description. Now, since that irks me a bit, I won't do that. However, I will say that I have never heard anyone adequately describe what I want to describe, so I will have to take the blandness of my vocabulary to new levels of absurdity. Or I could just stick to bland and let you create the rest. That might work too.
Yesterday I was able to spend my whole day with my parents after nearly three months of separation. That is a long time. Yesterday was aMaZINg! The highlight of my day was probably a decidedly unique mini-golfing excursion. Because it has been raining solidly for nearly a week, we took advantage of the sun to find... a waterlogged mini-golf course. Every low spot in the course was now completely underwater, sometimes even the hole was totally submerged in a large puddle. We call this: extreme mini-golf. We call this: an amphibian golfing challenge. We call this: an hour of so much laughter and so many surprises that it was absolutely insane.
After the last two games of my first college volleyball season, and after saying goodbye to my parents, it was time for the trip back to campus. As I laughed with my utterly hilarious coach and listened to the music from his ipod, I thought that my day could not possibly get any better. And then, what song should play next but the "Sadie Hawkins Dance"? I cannot explain that feeling of total happiness and blessedness and the sense of everything being right with the world. I could have laughed, I could have cried. It is just the weirdest and most awesome feeling ever. This crazy experience is not unfamiliar, however. I have felt this way multiple times while here at college. At first, I was at a total loss as to why I kept feeling so happy. And then I slowly began to realize... it's a God thing.
Lately I have sort of stepped into a new phase of my spiritual journey. I didn't ever think about how much being on my own would impact my spiritual life. But now I am totally responsible for my faith. Yes, my parents check on me and make sure I am going to church, but ultimately it is up to me whether or not I go to church every Sunday, and it is definitely up to me whether I become an active part of my church or simply warm a pew every Sunday morning. My parents don't check to make sure that I am reading my Bible daily, they don't begin a conversation with, "Sooo... what spiritual truth have you learned lately? Explain." I am finally at a point where I have to be largely responsible for the managing my own faith. I am now doubly an individual as I stand before Jesus and his cross.
In the past few months, God has brought me to a series of hard choices. On the one hand, I can do what I think will be the most rewarding, or what my culture smiles upon. But on the other hand is the narrow and difficult path to which my faith calls me. Now it is up to me to stay strong in my faith. I have surrounded myself with godly support, but I still ultimately make the decision to do what God says, or to do what I want. I have really not enjoyed making the hard choice to follow God's will rather than my own, but I have let go or made changes in total faith that when I follow God's will, it will lead me to the place of God's blessing. I think that now I am beginning to experience the richness of that blessing. I am walking with God. When that happens, I am blessed even more, and because I am working to keep God is at the center of everything, I am able to appreciate my many blessings so much more fully, in the way that they are supposed to be appreciated. It is pretty much something that can't be explained in words. (!)
That was really a failure of vocabulary and ability. Most of you won't understand the Sadie-Hawkins-Dance-induced-euphoria. I probably should have used a different example. All I can say is, I tried. =)
Honestly though, how can the very great riches and blessings of an even greater God be described in human (especially freshman-in-college-category-of-human) terms? They can't. Just look at the Bible. Words do fail you when it comes to God's joy and peace. I think I should stop here before I just dig myself into a deeper hole and cascades of inadequate words leap down on top of me. Oh, and PS, I think I deserve a bit of a break. I've been filling out college applications and writing application essays all day. My writing abilities are about to give up the ghost. =)
I would say, on the whole, that I am a pretty easy-going sort of person. Not that I always have been, of course, but honestly there are only a few things that really bother me. One of them is the utterly despicable word thigh. I don't know what it is about this word that makes me gag if it comes out of my mouth, makes me wince if I am forced to read it, and makes me abhor it from the very depths of my soul, but there it is. That word is an absolute disgrace to the English language, in my opinion. (shudder)
Another thing I don't like is when people say that there are no words to express what they are feeling, but then still insist upon using words (that they have just declared do not exist, mind you) to describe something that (as they have just stated) utterly defies description. Now, since that irks me a bit, I won't do that. However, I will say that I have never heard anyone adequately describe what I want to describe, so I will have to take the blandness of my vocabulary to new levels of absurdity. Or I could just stick to bland and let you create the rest. That might work too.
Yesterday I was able to spend my whole day with my parents after nearly three months of separation. That is a long time. Yesterday was aMaZINg! The highlight of my day was probably a decidedly unique mini-golfing excursion. Because it has been raining solidly for nearly a week, we took advantage of the sun to find... a waterlogged mini-golf course. Every low spot in the course was now completely underwater, sometimes even the hole was totally submerged in a large puddle. We call this: extreme mini-golf. We call this: an amphibian golfing challenge. We call this: an hour of so much laughter and so many surprises that it was absolutely insane.
After the last two games of my first college volleyball season, and after saying goodbye to my parents, it was time for the trip back to campus. As I laughed with my utterly hilarious coach and listened to the music from his ipod, I thought that my day could not possibly get any better. And then, what song should play next but the "Sadie Hawkins Dance"? I cannot explain that feeling of total happiness and blessedness and the sense of everything being right with the world. I could have laughed, I could have cried. It is just the weirdest and most awesome feeling ever. This crazy experience is not unfamiliar, however. I have felt this way multiple times while here at college. At first, I was at a total loss as to why I kept feeling so happy. And then I slowly began to realize... it's a God thing.
Lately I have sort of stepped into a new phase of my spiritual journey. I didn't ever think about how much being on my own would impact my spiritual life. But now I am totally responsible for my faith. Yes, my parents check on me and make sure I am going to church, but ultimately it is up to me whether or not I go to church every Sunday, and it is definitely up to me whether I become an active part of my church or simply warm a pew every Sunday morning. My parents don't check to make sure that I am reading my Bible daily, they don't begin a conversation with, "Sooo... what spiritual truth have you learned lately? Explain." I am finally at a point where I have to be largely responsible for the managing my own faith. I am now doubly an individual as I stand before Jesus and his cross.
In the past few months, God has brought me to a series of hard choices. On the one hand, I can do what I think will be the most rewarding, or what my culture smiles upon. But on the other hand is the narrow and difficult path to which my faith calls me. Now it is up to me to stay strong in my faith. I have surrounded myself with godly support, but I still ultimately make the decision to do what God says, or to do what I want. I have really not enjoyed making the hard choice to follow God's will rather than my own, but I have let go or made changes in total faith that when I follow God's will, it will lead me to the place of God's blessing. I think that now I am beginning to experience the richness of that blessing. I am walking with God. When that happens, I am blessed even more, and because I am working to keep God is at the center of everything, I am able to appreciate my many blessings so much more fully, in the way that they are supposed to be appreciated. It is pretty much something that can't be explained in words. (!)
That was really a failure of vocabulary and ability. Most of you won't understand the Sadie-Hawkins-Dance-induced-euphoria. I probably should have used a different example. All I can say is, I tried. =)
Honestly though, how can the very great riches and blessings of an even greater God be described in human (especially freshman-in-college-category-of-human) terms? They can't. Just look at the Bible. Words do fail you when it comes to God's joy and peace. I think I should stop here before I just dig myself into a deeper hole and cascades of inadequate words leap down on top of me. Oh, and PS, I think I deserve a bit of a break. I've been filling out college applications and writing application essays all day. My writing abilities are about to give up the ghost. =)
Monday, November 3, 2008
what have I been up to lately?
This past week I experienced a ton of firsts.
1. I went to a basketball game/costume contest and saw someone dressed as...
wait for it...
an oil spill.
There was also a perfect Phantom of the Opera, a Jack Bauer, and a goldfish bowl. It was great.
2. I played pool. I can't stand pool, hence I had not yet played it on campus. I think I won, though I suspect my opponent may have let me win...
3. I won a ping-pong game!! YEAH!
4. I filled out a college application. Okay, this isn't really a first, but I just thought I'd throw it out there.
5. I watched a playoff soccer game that we WON not in the game, not in overtime, not in double overtime, but in the final kick-off (something I had never heard of before, but cheered loudly for nonetheless). Yay for our soccer boys who advance to semi-finals!
6. I went out for dinner with a group of friends... at 10:30pm. We all walked through downtown Portland taking in the city lights and taking crazy pictures of each other. Some of the guys thought it would be a good idea to spit off a bridge, trying to hit the cars passing below us (among other manly things). It was crazy.
7. I played a SOFTBALL GAME!! It was raining the whole time, which only made it more exciting (and all the more perfect for the post-game mudfight). Having never really played or watched baseball or softball before, I didn't know many of the rules. I didn't even know exactly when to run from base to base! So the girls just screamed when I was supposed to run and I ran. One time I hit the softball with my bat, heard the cue, then took off running. Or at least... I tried to take off running. I actually made it only half a step before slipping in the mud and sprawling headlong. I was laughing so hard that I couldn't get up, and all the girls were laughing with me. The guys (who we were playing against) kindly stopped play until I got up and ran to first base. Even with how nice the guys were to us, and despite the fact that we outnumbered them two to one, they still won. =P
8. We won a volleyball game! Fortunately this is not a first either, but it has been a while since we've won anything, so it is worth noting.
9. My roommate and I deflated her birthday balloons and talked to each other in high-pitched helium voices. This is the first time I have ever done this, and we both sounded ridiculous, which only made it funnier.
10. I accidentally sat on a slug.
11. I attempted to cover our entire cafeteria with salad. I'm not sure exactly how my lunch ended up flying everywhere, but I suspect someone planted a small explosive beneath my bowl, just for fun.
1. I went to a basketball game/costume contest and saw someone dressed as...
wait for it...
an oil spill.
There was also a perfect Phantom of the Opera, a Jack Bauer, and a goldfish bowl. It was great.
2. I played pool. I can't stand pool, hence I had not yet played it on campus. I think I won, though I suspect my opponent may have let me win...
3. I won a ping-pong game!! YEAH!
4. I filled out a college application. Okay, this isn't really a first, but I just thought I'd throw it out there.
5. I watched a playoff soccer game that we WON not in the game, not in overtime, not in double overtime, but in the final kick-off (something I had never heard of before, but cheered loudly for nonetheless). Yay for our soccer boys who advance to semi-finals!
6. I went out for dinner with a group of friends... at 10:30pm. We all walked through downtown Portland taking in the city lights and taking crazy pictures of each other. Some of the guys thought it would be a good idea to spit off a bridge, trying to hit the cars passing below us (among other manly things). It was crazy.
7. I played a SOFTBALL GAME!! It was raining the whole time, which only made it more exciting (and all the more perfect for the post-game mudfight). Having never really played or watched baseball or softball before, I didn't know many of the rules. I didn't even know exactly when to run from base to base! So the girls just screamed when I was supposed to run and I ran. One time I hit the softball with my bat, heard the cue, then took off running. Or at least... I tried to take off running. I actually made it only half a step before slipping in the mud and sprawling headlong. I was laughing so hard that I couldn't get up, and all the girls were laughing with me. The guys (who we were playing against) kindly stopped play until I got up and ran to first base. Even with how nice the guys were to us, and despite the fact that we outnumbered them two to one, they still won. =P
8. We won a volleyball game! Fortunately this is not a first either, but it has been a while since we've won anything, so it is worth noting.
9. My roommate and I deflated her birthday balloons and talked to each other in high-pitched helium voices. This is the first time I have ever done this, and we both sounded ridiculous, which only made it funnier.
10. I accidentally sat on a slug.
11. I attempted to cover our entire cafeteria with salad. I'm not sure exactly how my lunch ended up flying everywhere, but I suspect someone planted a small explosive beneath my bowl, just for fun.
Monday, October 27, 2008
so now what?
As some of you already know, I will not be returning to this college next fall. This is not because I don't fit in well here, and it is certainly not because I don't absolutely love my teachers and friends. Rather, the reason I will not be coming back is because my college will not be here next year. The buildings will be here, of course, but that is all. There will be no volleyball team to play a rousing game in our gym--the thunderdome. There will be no hall full of faculty, always avaliable to talk. There will be no JC full of students laughing, talking, playing ping-pong, pool, or air hockey. There will be no service clubs, no classes, no school.
Mine is a branch campus of a college in Oklahoma, and recently this main college decided that it was no longer financially feasible for them to operate my smaller school. This news, announced today to the faculty and staff, then to the students, came as quite a shock to us all. After our president made his difficult speech, most of the students broke into tears. No one was expecting this, and no one is quite sure exactly what they will do now. As I sat beneath a beautiful tree gazing up at the blue fall sky, I was surprised by a touch on my shoulder. This young man was the first of many friends to ask me how I was doing, to talk with me, to cry with me, to give me a hug. I think I have given and received more hugs today than all the rest of my life put together. I absolutely love the sense of community here. All of us care so deeply for everyone else, and a time that could potentially be a time of hopeless, frustrated mourning is actually a time of love and support.
So what does this mean for me? It means that I prematurely rejoiced over the completion of college applications. It means that I once again will be seeking out a college home. It means that, after May, I might never see my new, but beloved friends again. It means that my fabulous professors will no longer be right there for me. It means that I will have to start all over again. This is bad, no doubt, but I am certainly grateful for my situation. I am a freshman, with few credits to transfer and three plus years of college before me. I feel especially bad for my teachers. For many of them, this school was their life, a project to which they devoted time, energy, and love. They have families and children, and now they will be out looking for a new job. I cried with the seniors who are taking an extra semester. They are left schoolless one semester short of graduation. I pity those whose bible credits will not transfer to most schools. I reach out to our many foreign students who sacrificed financially to come here and are not sure even what country they will be studying in next year. Please pray for all of the people affected by this decision!
When I was sitting beneath the tree, the friend that approached me sat down and we just talked. The two of us are very much in the same position. We are both freshmen who absolutely love Cascade and are thriving here spiritually, academically, socially, and athletically. We were both planning on attending this school for four years, and are now rather unsure of what our near future holds. One thing we agreed upon, however: God knows exactly what he is doing, and this is a valuable reminder that we are not in control even of our own lives. This is certainly not what we expected or wanted, but as it is, we trust that God has a beautiful plan for our lives, and we are optimistic about what our future holds.
It is important to remember that this year is definitely not over. In fact, it has just begun! I still have six valuable months to spend with my teachers and friends and my Phi Alpha sisters. Six months of school, of being student senator, of being a part of this community. In fact, today some of my female friends assured me that I would certainly be marrying one of my male friends from here, and they are going to do their best to facilitate this match in the next six months. Like I said, the rest of this year will certainly be interesting, and I think very rewarding as well. Many people are transferring away at the semester break, so the community will definitely not be the same, but this is where God has placed me for now, and I am committed to blessing this community in every way that I can. I am a little distressed about the rushed college search I will be starting, um, in a few minutes, but I do believe that God will provide. I believe that he has a life of blessing planned for me, and I am quite ready to experience it, though this is not exactly the path that I had in mind. I would appreciate your prayers as I once more begin finding and applying for colleges. =P
Mine is a branch campus of a college in Oklahoma, and recently this main college decided that it was no longer financially feasible for them to operate my smaller school. This news, announced today to the faculty and staff, then to the students, came as quite a shock to us all. After our president made his difficult speech, most of the students broke into tears. No one was expecting this, and no one is quite sure exactly what they will do now. As I sat beneath a beautiful tree gazing up at the blue fall sky, I was surprised by a touch on my shoulder. This young man was the first of many friends to ask me how I was doing, to talk with me, to cry with me, to give me a hug. I think I have given and received more hugs today than all the rest of my life put together. I absolutely love the sense of community here. All of us care so deeply for everyone else, and a time that could potentially be a time of hopeless, frustrated mourning is actually a time of love and support.
So what does this mean for me? It means that I prematurely rejoiced over the completion of college applications. It means that I once again will be seeking out a college home. It means that, after May, I might never see my new, but beloved friends again. It means that my fabulous professors will no longer be right there for me. It means that I will have to start all over again. This is bad, no doubt, but I am certainly grateful for my situation. I am a freshman, with few credits to transfer and three plus years of college before me. I feel especially bad for my teachers. For many of them, this school was their life, a project to which they devoted time, energy, and love. They have families and children, and now they will be out looking for a new job. I cried with the seniors who are taking an extra semester. They are left schoolless one semester short of graduation. I pity those whose bible credits will not transfer to most schools. I reach out to our many foreign students who sacrificed financially to come here and are not sure even what country they will be studying in next year. Please pray for all of the people affected by this decision!
When I was sitting beneath the tree, the friend that approached me sat down and we just talked. The two of us are very much in the same position. We are both freshmen who absolutely love Cascade and are thriving here spiritually, academically, socially, and athletically. We were both planning on attending this school for four years, and are now rather unsure of what our near future holds. One thing we agreed upon, however: God knows exactly what he is doing, and this is a valuable reminder that we are not in control even of our own lives. This is certainly not what we expected or wanted, but as it is, we trust that God has a beautiful plan for our lives, and we are optimistic about what our future holds.
It is important to remember that this year is definitely not over. In fact, it has just begun! I still have six valuable months to spend with my teachers and friends and my Phi Alpha sisters. Six months of school, of being student senator, of being a part of this community. In fact, today some of my female friends assured me that I would certainly be marrying one of my male friends from here, and they are going to do their best to facilitate this match in the next six months. Like I said, the rest of this year will certainly be interesting, and I think very rewarding as well. Many people are transferring away at the semester break, so the community will definitely not be the same, but this is where God has placed me for now, and I am committed to blessing this community in every way that I can. I am a little distressed about the rushed college search I will be starting, um, in a few minutes, but I do believe that God will provide. I believe that he has a life of blessing planned for me, and I am quite ready to experience it, though this is not exactly the path that I had in mind. I would appreciate your prayers as I once more begin finding and applying for colleges. =P
Thursday, October 23, 2008
what is a girl to do?
Today in our daily chapel, we focused on children. More specifically, we focused on children who were without food--who gained their only sustenance from the dumpsters in which they scavenged. We focused on children who were without legs--who had discovered one of the millions of active landmines around the world and had been devastatingly injured. We focused on the children without a family, without health, without hope. Every time I think about these children, or about the parents who must raise their children in abject poverty, my heart nearly breaks. After chapel, as I walked to volleyball practice, I wanted to just throw myself to the ground and mourn for the children around the world who could not run and play, who could not remember an hour free from hunger.
A startling number of people have approached me lately and thanked me for being such a positive influence in their life. They remark that I am never unhappy, that I always have something encouraging and uplifting to say to them. I often wonder why they are surprised, as the biggest problems I have to worry about are some difficult assignments. Two papers and a speech. THOSE ARE MY MOST PRESSING PROBLEMS!! What excuse do I have to be discouraging when my struggles are so trivial?
Why do I have so much, when others have so little? What was God thinking when he put me here, and another little girl in Haiti? More importantly, what can I do about the anguish I am feeling now? It is not enough simply to feel bad, and do nothing. What can one girl do when faced with the overwhelming problems that come from living in a broken world? I suppose for now I will pray. I will pray to a God who is bigger than poverty, disease, and hurt. I will pray that he will heal the brokenness, and that he will use me as a part of his healing. I will pray that I may never forget all those who have so little, and that I may always be ready to serve in whatever way God asks me.
Here I am, Lord. Use me.
A startling number of people have approached me lately and thanked me for being such a positive influence in their life. They remark that I am never unhappy, that I always have something encouraging and uplifting to say to them. I often wonder why they are surprised, as the biggest problems I have to worry about are some difficult assignments. Two papers and a speech. THOSE ARE MY MOST PRESSING PROBLEMS!! What excuse do I have to be discouraging when my struggles are so trivial?
Why do I have so much, when others have so little? What was God thinking when he put me here, and another little girl in Haiti? More importantly, what can I do about the anguish I am feeling now? It is not enough simply to feel bad, and do nothing. What can one girl do when faced with the overwhelming problems that come from living in a broken world? I suppose for now I will pray. I will pray to a God who is bigger than poverty, disease, and hurt. I will pray that he will heal the brokenness, and that he will use me as a part of his healing. I will pray that I may never forget all those who have so little, and that I may always be ready to serve in whatever way God asks me.
Here I am, Lord. Use me.
Monday, October 20, 2008
let me tell you about my day...
...it began at midnight, as most days do. However, this morning at 12am I was not asleep, as I had planned, but lying awake as I listened to my roommate frustratedly bustle about the room. I wish I could say that I got out of bed to help her look for her misplaced binder, room key, and college ID. I wish I could say that I had volunteered to help her finish some tasks she had put off until that night. I wish I could say that, but really I can't. I was selfishly curled up with my blankets pulled up to my ears, a pillow clutched desperately over my head lest it should suddenly fling itself across the room at Kristina. Beneath the pillow my tired mind was contemplating whether it would be any quieter to sleep in the hallway, and my heart was crying out to God for patience and the strength to love. After an hour of puttering, Kristina finally shut off the light and, still being loudly upset, left the room. I fell asleep almost immediately. Seven hours later, my cell-phone alarm startled me into a very busy day.
Today I have noticed an almost amusing degree of forgetfulness in my activities. First, there was the incident in which I almost put my wool coat in the washer. Fortunately I vaguely recollected the fact that wool shrinks. A lot. A friend confirmed this notion and wisely suggested that I not try to wash a wool coat. Ugh.
Once I had been delivered from that near-disaster, I devoted my morning to diligent homework-doing.
At lunch I stopped to talk to a professor about a homework assignment I had recently turned in, one in which I was to identify a controversial verse in Matthew, then state a question about that verse. I will be answering this question in a 6-7 page research paper, due next month. It is a good thing I stopped to discuss this assignment, because the question that I turned in had absolutely nothing to do with the verse I cited. Fortunately, though I am forgetful, I am likeable, so it was easy for my professor to laughingly disregard this instance of forgetful mis-citation.
Next item on today's agenda: a research trip to the library. I had carefully planned my trip by noting the bus route numbers, times, and relevant stops. As I boarded the bus, I remember feeling a bit proud of how quickly I had mastered the bus system and how well-planned my excursion was.
On the way to the library, I was happily amused by a large, older German man who mumbled something pleasant as he boarded the bus. All I caught was a "nice day" in the midst of a Germanic clutter of syllables. I also was astounded by all the beautiful houses we passed. I wouldn't mind living in the city if I could own a house like those.
My bus ride went marvelously. That is, until... I got off at the wrong bus stop. After I had walked a couple blocks and seen no library, I decided that there must be two 10th streets. That meant that I had 20 blocks left to travel. Fortunately, though I am forgetful, I have a reasonable sense of direction and knowledge of the city, so I had no trouble figuring out where I was going. Also quite fortunately, I was dressed comfortably with good solid walking shoes on my feet, and was quite in the mood for a relaxing walk. On the way, I was able to cross a beautiful, beautiful river. It was a nice, brisk fall day, and the rain of the morning had cleared to reveal a chill blue sky, full of huge white clouds. The fall colors of the tree-lined street were absolutely striking.
After a slight, confused detour, followed by the realization that there were NW, SW, NE, and SE 10th streets, my purposeful wanderings ended before possibly the most beautiful library I have ever seen in my life. Both the outside and the inside of the library were absolutely amazing. After pleasant conversations with two particularly helpful librarians, I left the library with the closest thing to a 1891 newspaper that I could possibly get.
For an upcoming history project, I chose to find a 19th century newspaper, read it in its entirety, then write a 5-6 page paper about my observations of that time period, based on the newspaper. I picked the date May 19, 1891, and I am so excited about it. I made copies directly from the microfilm, and I could not be looking forward to this project more. Did I tell you that up until this spring I was going to declare a history major?
Well, now you know. History is a pretty good subject, especially when all your teachers are phenomenal (as all of mine have been).
Fortunately, my bus trip back passed entirely without incident. I settled down in the school cafeteria with my computer and a cup of hot chocolate, intending to write this entry. I wasn't disciplined enough to work in a public place today, however. I spent the whole time talking and laughing with people. =P It was supremely enjoyable, but not terribly productive, as far as the blog-posting goes.
Thus concludes my story about my day. And now it is time for dinner before practice. The rush of life begins once more.
Today I have noticed an almost amusing degree of forgetfulness in my activities. First, there was the incident in which I almost put my wool coat in the washer. Fortunately I vaguely recollected the fact that wool shrinks. A lot. A friend confirmed this notion and wisely suggested that I not try to wash a wool coat. Ugh.
Once I had been delivered from that near-disaster, I devoted my morning to diligent homework-doing.
At lunch I stopped to talk to a professor about a homework assignment I had recently turned in, one in which I was to identify a controversial verse in Matthew, then state a question about that verse. I will be answering this question in a 6-7 page research paper, due next month. It is a good thing I stopped to discuss this assignment, because the question that I turned in had absolutely nothing to do with the verse I cited. Fortunately, though I am forgetful, I am likeable, so it was easy for my professor to laughingly disregard this instance of forgetful mis-citation.
Next item on today's agenda: a research trip to the library. I had carefully planned my trip by noting the bus route numbers, times, and relevant stops. As I boarded the bus, I remember feeling a bit proud of how quickly I had mastered the bus system and how well-planned my excursion was.
On the way to the library, I was happily amused by a large, older German man who mumbled something pleasant as he boarded the bus. All I caught was a "nice day" in the midst of a Germanic clutter of syllables. I also was astounded by all the beautiful houses we passed. I wouldn't mind living in the city if I could own a house like those.
My bus ride went marvelously. That is, until... I got off at the wrong bus stop. After I had walked a couple blocks and seen no library, I decided that there must be two 10th streets. That meant that I had 20 blocks left to travel. Fortunately, though I am forgetful, I have a reasonable sense of direction and knowledge of the city, so I had no trouble figuring out where I was going. Also quite fortunately, I was dressed comfortably with good solid walking shoes on my feet, and was quite in the mood for a relaxing walk. On the way, I was able to cross a beautiful, beautiful river. It was a nice, brisk fall day, and the rain of the morning had cleared to reveal a chill blue sky, full of huge white clouds. The fall colors of the tree-lined street were absolutely striking.
After a slight, confused detour, followed by the realization that there were NW, SW, NE, and SE 10th streets, my purposeful wanderings ended before possibly the most beautiful library I have ever seen in my life. Both the outside and the inside of the library were absolutely amazing. After pleasant conversations with two particularly helpful librarians, I left the library with the closest thing to a 1891 newspaper that I could possibly get.
For an upcoming history project, I chose to find a 19th century newspaper, read it in its entirety, then write a 5-6 page paper about my observations of that time period, based on the newspaper. I picked the date May 19, 1891, and I am so excited about it. I made copies directly from the microfilm, and I could not be looking forward to this project more. Did I tell you that up until this spring I was going to declare a history major?
Well, now you know. History is a pretty good subject, especially when all your teachers are phenomenal (as all of mine have been).
Fortunately, my bus trip back passed entirely without incident. I settled down in the school cafeteria with my computer and a cup of hot chocolate, intending to write this entry. I wasn't disciplined enough to work in a public place today, however. I spent the whole time talking and laughing with people. =P It was supremely enjoyable, but not terribly productive, as far as the blog-posting goes.
Thus concludes my story about my day. And now it is time for dinner before practice. The rush of life begins once more.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
serving two masters, take two
I am a daydreamer. Ask anyone who knows me. I may seem to be essentially serious (ha!), but really I keep myself sane and fill dull moments by dreaming up all sorts of whimsical things. Sometimes, as in Harry Potter, my dreams will be particularly sophomoric. I’ll imagine a spider in roller skates or my least favorite professor in a ridiculous outfit. Usually my dreams are everyday. Perhaps, like 19-year old Sebastian, I'll consult my teddy bear named Aloysius (or in my case, my pet rock named Penorphius). I'll come up with absurd schemes and events whose very appeal lies in their peculiarity and fun. I will dream up random outfits or funny responses to a situation. But in my time I’ve had some serious dreams too.
When I was probably seven or eight, I had my heart set on being an astronaut. I dreamed about it whenever I was bored. I would shuffle outside at night to make a map of all the stars. I would shine my flashlight into the night sky (to see the stars better, because that's why we use flashlights in the dark) and wonder what happened to that beam of light. When my mom told me that the light went shining on and on forever, I would keep my flashlight off so that the universe wouldn't fill up with light. I still wanted it to be dark sometimes so that I could look at the stars. Not that this instance of youthful ignorance has anything to do with astronomy, I just thought I'd share. Anyway, while I was still dreaming of outer space, I exceeded the maximum height for an astronaut. That dream sputtered to an untimely death.
As soon as I recovered from my disappointment (which actually took a while) I knew that I was going to be an author, doing nothing but write stories. I soberly picked out a Lisa Frank notebook at the store and began writing stories in it. Because my livelihood now depended on these stories, however, I found my creativity suppressed and my originality stifled. I was quite embarrassed. That notebook, however, despite all my efforts to nonchalantly destroy it, is still floating around somewhere, thanks to the preservative instincts of a proud mother. I really wish she had tried to keep another notebook, a nondescript pale blue one, in which I wrote stories about my childhood, before I depended upon writing as a profession. Just for fun, I described stacking firewood with my dad, of how he let me 'drive' a backhoe and how I was scared to death of wrecking it. I talked about my first impression of my favorite mountain. There were some really good stories in that notebook. Note to self: search for that book over Thanksgiving break.
Once I realized that my career-starting material, found in that blue notebook, had been misplaced (like most everything else I own), my dreams were violently sent off in a new direction. After making the surprising discovery that I liked math, I decided that I wanted nothing more than to be an engineer. What would I do? Why, work for NASA of course!! For a while, had you asked me what career I would pursue, I would have told you to come visit me in Florida.
Then I started high school.
High school math frightened me.
Thus ended my dream of engineerhood.
And so it goes. Ever since I was little, I have been in the practice of dreaming out every single minute of my waking life. I had dreamed out my theses and my graduation speech roughly by ninth grade. You just thought I wrote them at the last minute. Really, I had been pondering them for years.
I dreamed of college volleyball for quite some time, so when I was offered a volleyball scholarship, I wasn't even faintly surprised. After all, that was how I had planned for it to happen. As of last month, Tiffany and I are dreaming of moving to New Zealand together. And I'm quite sure that I've been dreaming of marrying and raising kids since I was old enough to grasp a doll.
I don't think that there is anything inherently wrong with dreaming about the future, but there are certain risks of which dreamers, especially Christian dreamers, particularly need to beware.
Though I am not really a fan of the Christian band Barlow Girl, some of their songs really stand out to me. I liked the song "Surrender" the very first time I heard it. This song voices the agonized cry of someone who is clinging to her dreams and cannot trust God with them. "If I trust you with my dreams," she seems to say, "how can I be sure that you will make my dreams come true? What if you say no to these dreams forever? I don't know if I can handle that." This is the ever-present struggle for the dreamer.
The real test of faith, for people like me, comes when God asks us to submit our dreams to his plans. We have found the dream job, we have met the man or woman of our dreams, we clearly see the choice that will make all our dreams come true. It is just as we have always planned, just what we have always wanted for our life. But then God says, "listen to me. Let me choose whether or not you take this job, whether or not you marry this perfect woman. Trust me. Choose my plans over your dreams." How will we respond? Will we trust God to fulfill the desires of our heart? Do we trust that he knows what will truly make us happy?
I do.
If God asks me to give up a dream, however dear to me it may be, I will do it. I will praise him while I do it. I choose to believe that he knows what I truly need. I trust that he, like a true father, will deny me the dreams that are appealing but harmful. If I trust him in this, he will give me things that are truly good.
In conclusion (which is your cue that this is almost over, so you could at least pay attention to this last part. ...please tell me I am not the only one who snaps to a relieved attention every time the words "in conclusion" are reached), let me share with you a story my high school volleyball coach told me.
Ahem.
"Once upon a time, there was a little girl. Her mother owned a pearl necklace, and the girl would often just sit and stare at the necklace. She was always struck by its beauty and fascinated by its elegance. One day, while shopping with her father, the girl spied a small pearl necklace. She asked if she had enough money to buy it. Her father said, 'no, you would need to save your allowance money for two months to buy that necklace.' The little girl decided to save all her money for two months. She didn't buy any bubble gum, she didn't buy any new toys. She just thought of that necklace. Three months later, the little girl went with her father to the store and joyfully bought the little necklace, strung with durable fake pearls.
A few months passed, during which the girl often wore and admired her necklace. The time had nearly come for the little girl's birthday. Her father came to her one evening and asked her to give him her beautiful necklace. She looked tearfully into her father's eyes as she gave him her pearls. The next morning, however, her father presented her with a new necklace, this time made of real pearls."
This is sort of how I think of my dreams. If God asks me to give them up, dear to me though they are, I will willingly surrender them. It might be hard, but I choose to trust that when God takes away my dream, it is because he has something better for me. This is the difficult, but very rewarding stance of a Christian dreamer.
When I was probably seven or eight, I had my heart set on being an astronaut. I dreamed about it whenever I was bored. I would shuffle outside at night to make a map of all the stars. I would shine my flashlight into the night sky (to see the stars better, because that's why we use flashlights in the dark) and wonder what happened to that beam of light. When my mom told me that the light went shining on and on forever, I would keep my flashlight off so that the universe wouldn't fill up with light. I still wanted it to be dark sometimes so that I could look at the stars. Not that this instance of youthful ignorance has anything to do with astronomy, I just thought I'd share. Anyway, while I was still dreaming of outer space, I exceeded the maximum height for an astronaut. That dream sputtered to an untimely death.
As soon as I recovered from my disappointment (which actually took a while) I knew that I was going to be an author, doing nothing but write stories. I soberly picked out a Lisa Frank notebook at the store and began writing stories in it. Because my livelihood now depended on these stories, however, I found my creativity suppressed and my originality stifled. I was quite embarrassed. That notebook, however, despite all my efforts to nonchalantly destroy it, is still floating around somewhere, thanks to the preservative instincts of a proud mother. I really wish she had tried to keep another notebook, a nondescript pale blue one, in which I wrote stories about my childhood, before I depended upon writing as a profession. Just for fun, I described stacking firewood with my dad, of how he let me 'drive' a backhoe and how I was scared to death of wrecking it. I talked about my first impression of my favorite mountain. There were some really good stories in that notebook. Note to self: search for that book over Thanksgiving break.
Once I realized that my career-starting material, found in that blue notebook, had been misplaced (like most everything else I own), my dreams were violently sent off in a new direction. After making the surprising discovery that I liked math, I decided that I wanted nothing more than to be an engineer. What would I do? Why, work for NASA of course!! For a while, had you asked me what career I would pursue, I would have told you to come visit me in Florida.
Then I started high school.
High school math frightened me.
Thus ended my dream of engineerhood.
And so it goes. Ever since I was little, I have been in the practice of dreaming out every single minute of my waking life. I had dreamed out my theses and my graduation speech roughly by ninth grade. You just thought I wrote them at the last minute. Really, I had been pondering them for years.
I dreamed of college volleyball for quite some time, so when I was offered a volleyball scholarship, I wasn't even faintly surprised. After all, that was how I had planned for it to happen. As of last month, Tiffany and I are dreaming of moving to New Zealand together. And I'm quite sure that I've been dreaming of marrying and raising kids since I was old enough to grasp a doll.
I don't think that there is anything inherently wrong with dreaming about the future, but there are certain risks of which dreamers, especially Christian dreamers, particularly need to beware.
Though I am not really a fan of the Christian band Barlow Girl, some of their songs really stand out to me. I liked the song "Surrender" the very first time I heard it. This song voices the agonized cry of someone who is clinging to her dreams and cannot trust God with them. "If I trust you with my dreams," she seems to say, "how can I be sure that you will make my dreams come true? What if you say no to these dreams forever? I don't know if I can handle that." This is the ever-present struggle for the dreamer.
The real test of faith, for people like me, comes when God asks us to submit our dreams to his plans. We have found the dream job, we have met the man or woman of our dreams, we clearly see the choice that will make all our dreams come true. It is just as we have always planned, just what we have always wanted for our life. But then God says, "listen to me. Let me choose whether or not you take this job, whether or not you marry this perfect woman. Trust me. Choose my plans over your dreams." How will we respond? Will we trust God to fulfill the desires of our heart? Do we trust that he knows what will truly make us happy?
I do.
If God asks me to give up a dream, however dear to me it may be, I will do it. I will praise him while I do it. I choose to believe that he knows what I truly need. I trust that he, like a true father, will deny me the dreams that are appealing but harmful. If I trust him in this, he will give me things that are truly good.
In conclusion (which is your cue that this is almost over, so you could at least pay attention to this last part. ...please tell me I am not the only one who snaps to a relieved attention every time the words "in conclusion" are reached), let me share with you a story my high school volleyball coach told me.
Ahem.
"Once upon a time, there was a little girl. Her mother owned a pearl necklace, and the girl would often just sit and stare at the necklace. She was always struck by its beauty and fascinated by its elegance. One day, while shopping with her father, the girl spied a small pearl necklace. She asked if she had enough money to buy it. Her father said, 'no, you would need to save your allowance money for two months to buy that necklace.' The little girl decided to save all her money for two months. She didn't buy any bubble gum, she didn't buy any new toys. She just thought of that necklace. Three months later, the little girl went with her father to the store and joyfully bought the little necklace, strung with durable fake pearls.
A few months passed, during which the girl often wore and admired her necklace. The time had nearly come for the little girl's birthday. Her father came to her one evening and asked her to give him her beautiful necklace. She looked tearfully into her father's eyes as she gave him her pearls. The next morning, however, her father presented her with a new necklace, this time made of real pearls."
This is sort of how I think of my dreams. If God asks me to give them up, dear to me though they are, I will willingly surrender them. It might be hard, but I choose to trust that when God takes away my dream, it is because he has something better for me. This is the difficult, but very rewarding stance of a Christian dreamer.
Friday, October 10, 2008
paper chains
One year, when I was very young, waiting for Christmas was almost more than my little heart could bear. I think I was too small to fully grasp the concept of calendars, so my mom helped me in a way that I could understand. We made a paper chain together, then hung it up on our freezer. At the end of every day, I was allowed to pull one ring off my paper chain, thus counting down the days to Christmas.
This past year my classmates and I were surely old enough to understand calendars, but in our prospect-of-graduation-induced madness, we turned to the same method. A teacher made a paper chain for us to count down the days until our graduation. On the joyous day when we reached the last link, we looked at each other, each grasped a part of that last ring, and joyfully tore it apart.
Today is the first day of fall break on campus, meaning that there are no classes until next Tuesday. Most of the students have gone home this weekend, leaving the campus almost entirely to the student-athletes who have games over the weekend. Today, in a moment of nostalgia and impatience, I bought a package of construction paper and once more created a paper chain. On one end is written today's date. On the other is the date that I arrive back home: November 21, 2008. I simply cannot wait, and am having a hard time not obsessing.
Unfortunately the chain is longer than I am tall, but it is a comfort to know that the chain will get a little shorter each day.
Right now I have to rush off to a quick meal before my game tonight against the monster team of our league. The great thing about sports, however, is that upsets happen all the time. I am optimistic. =)
This past year my classmates and I were surely old enough to understand calendars, but in our prospect-of-graduation-induced madness, we turned to the same method. A teacher made a paper chain for us to count down the days until our graduation. On the joyous day when we reached the last link, we looked at each other, each grasped a part of that last ring, and joyfully tore it apart.
Today is the first day of fall break on campus, meaning that there are no classes until next Tuesday. Most of the students have gone home this weekend, leaving the campus almost entirely to the student-athletes who have games over the weekend. Today, in a moment of nostalgia and impatience, I bought a package of construction paper and once more created a paper chain. On one end is written today's date. On the other is the date that I arrive back home: November 21, 2008. I simply cannot wait, and am having a hard time not obsessing.
Unfortunately the chain is longer than I am tall, but it is a comfort to know that the chain will get a little shorter each day.
Right now I have to rush off to a quick meal before my game tonight against the monster team of our league. The great thing about sports, however, is that upsets happen all the time. I am optimistic. =)
Sunday, October 5, 2008
college adventures and classic comics
It is one of my firm beliefs that for every moment in life, there is a appropriate Calvin and Hobbes comic.
Illustration of this obvious point: last night I decided to try my hand at a haircut--my own haircut, in fact, which makes it decidedly more interesting. There is a little place less than a block from school where I could easily have gone for a haircut, and I am sure several of my friends would have been more than willing to help me out too, but no, I decided to have a little adventure. As I sat cross-legged on the floor with scissors in hand, I remember thinking two things: 1) when I actually do get my hair styled by someone who knows what they are doing, the inevitable question will be: did you have an unfortunate run-in with a lawnmower? and 2) maybe when I go home at Thanksgiving I can ask my mom to try to fix this, thus being able to answer the inevitable question with the answer: "no, my mom just cut my hair." Of course that would be totally unfair to my mother, and I could probably never actually bring myself to say it, but it does give one a sense of regained face when one doesn't have to admit that the terrible haircutting job is actually one's own doing. All that said, I don't think my haircut turned out badly at all. Of course, I have no idea what the back of my head looks like, but it felt fine. And I did gain a sense of hilarity and accomplishment from my escapade.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, Calvin and Hobbes!
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Illustration of this obvious point: last night I decided to try my hand at a haircut--my own haircut, in fact, which makes it decidedly more interesting. There is a little place less than a block from school where I could easily have gone for a haircut, and I am sure several of my friends would have been more than willing to help me out too, but no, I decided to have a little adventure. As I sat cross-legged on the floor with scissors in hand, I remember thinking two things: 1) when I actually do get my hair styled by someone who knows what they are doing, the inevitable question will be: did you have an unfortunate run-in with a lawnmower? and 2) maybe when I go home at Thanksgiving I can ask my mom to try to fix this, thus being able to answer the inevitable question with the answer: "no, my mom just cut my hair." Of course that would be totally unfair to my mother, and I could probably never actually bring myself to say it, but it does give one a sense of regained face when one doesn't have to admit that the terrible haircutting job is actually one's own doing. All that said, I don't think my haircut turned out badly at all. Of course, I have no idea what the back of my head looks like, but it felt fine. And I did gain a sense of hilarity and accomplishment from my escapade.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, Calvin and Hobbes!
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Wednesday, October 1, 2008
an update. ...sort of
I just wanted to take this opportunity to quickly share with you some of the things that have been happening in my life lately.
First of all, this is my fifth week of classes. Papers and tests are quite regular now, and our first set of grades come out at the end of next week. I am nearly halfway through my first semester of college! Woohoo!
Second, volleyball is going full swing, as is basketball. There has been a little change of plans in this area however. A couple of weeks ago, and with my coach's full support, I resigned my position on the basketball team and took up a position as team manager. There were a variety of motivations for this big decision. One reason was the fact that, due to my inexperience and also my commitment to volleyball, I would have next to no playing time for two years. The biggest reason, however, was the conviction that playing basketbal would not effectively move me toward my telos. I made the hard choice to drop my weaker sport in order to pursue things that would shape me into more of the person I want to be in four years.
In light of this goal, I applied for and was honored by an election to the position of student senator. I am one of eight students chosen for this position. We will meet weekly to organize school events and strengthen our individual and composite abilities as leaders on campus. This is a lot like the prefect position in which I served in high school, for those of you who are familiar with that system. We will start meeting this week, and I am super-excited for this aspect of my school year.
Also in reference to the Kimberlee I would like to be in four years, I pledged a service club this week. The service clubs here are essentially fraternities and sororities that have been "converted" to a Christian worldview. Part of this twist can be found in the name service club. The focus of these groups is first on serving their own community--the community of young men or women in the club--and second on serving their larger community. Each club will be regularly volunteering for small and large community service projects throughout the year, as well as doing fun things like camping trips together.
There are three female service clubs here and two male. Each one threw a party last week to inform the new students of their unique purposes and missions. These distinctions included things like club virtues and verses, traditions and personalities. We then reflected and prayed, selected a service club that best fit us and performed the necessary pledge requirements, or chose not to join a service club at all. The last choice is by far the minority, with most new students pledging one of the service clubs. We brave club-pledgers will all go through a process of induction this weekend, starting tonight.
I am very excited about my service club, phi alpha sigma. I already love many of the girls in the group and can't wait to formally contribute to this new subcommunity as well as all the larger communities of which I am a part.
Finally, as part of another program in which I am involved, I was assigned a mentor for this year, with the recommended option of keeping up that relationship for the rest of my years here. I was happy to find that my mentor is one of my favorite professors here. Of course it is hard to say that he is my favorite professor, since all of them are fabulous. I love how small this school is, because I literally have conversations with my professors every day. They all know my name, at the very least, and those who actually teach me know much more about me. One day when I was particularly homesick my amazing history professor pulled me aside on the way to chapel and just built me up and encouraged me. He had no idea that I was missing my family and friends, but I know God directed him to me that day. This professor will sit and eat lunch with me and talk to me about theology and life and volleyball and education. I really love the fact that everyone here is so willing to reach out to you, serve you, and encourage you. I am already trying to follow these marvelous examples. I want to serve my fellow students and teammates and my teachers in every way I can.
I want to illustrate the loving spirit of this college with just one story. Early this week I was struggling a bit with life. My RA stopped and talked to me while we were brushing our teeth and when she realized that I was upset she offered to pray for me. The next day I came back from class to find a little card stuck on my door. My RA had written me a note full of encouragement from herself and from Scripture. I felt so blessed that I nearly cried.
This college is certainly not for everyone, but I do feel that this is a place where I can grow immensely in all aspects of my life. God was watching out for me when my shoebox full of college letters was overflowing last year. I am still surprised that I left all those other fantastic colleges in favor of this one. Looking back, the story of how I chose this college is pretty astounding... it is pretty much a God thing.
In ninth grade, when I was stressing out about college choices (yes, already), a teacher advised that I pray, pray, pray. (Anytime I am stressed about anything, by the way, her first direction is to pray.) I prayed constantly about which college I would attend, and I believe that this college is the answer to those prayers. This seems to be where I belong.
First of all, this is my fifth week of classes. Papers and tests are quite regular now, and our first set of grades come out at the end of next week. I am nearly halfway through my first semester of college! Woohoo!
Second, volleyball is going full swing, as is basketball. There has been a little change of plans in this area however. A couple of weeks ago, and with my coach's full support, I resigned my position on the basketball team and took up a position as team manager. There were a variety of motivations for this big decision. One reason was the fact that, due to my inexperience and also my commitment to volleyball, I would have next to no playing time for two years. The biggest reason, however, was the conviction that playing basketbal would not effectively move me toward my telos. I made the hard choice to drop my weaker sport in order to pursue things that would shape me into more of the person I want to be in four years.
In light of this goal, I applied for and was honored by an election to the position of student senator. I am one of eight students chosen for this position. We will meet weekly to organize school events and strengthen our individual and composite abilities as leaders on campus. This is a lot like the prefect position in which I served in high school, for those of you who are familiar with that system. We will start meeting this week, and I am super-excited for this aspect of my school year.
Also in reference to the Kimberlee I would like to be in four years, I pledged a service club this week. The service clubs here are essentially fraternities and sororities that have been "converted" to a Christian worldview. Part of this twist can be found in the name service club. The focus of these groups is first on serving their own community--the community of young men or women in the club--and second on serving their larger community. Each club will be regularly volunteering for small and large community service projects throughout the year, as well as doing fun things like camping trips together.
There are three female service clubs here and two male. Each one threw a party last week to inform the new students of their unique purposes and missions. These distinctions included things like club virtues and verses, traditions and personalities. We then reflected and prayed, selected a service club that best fit us and performed the necessary pledge requirements, or chose not to join a service club at all. The last choice is by far the minority, with most new students pledging one of the service clubs. We brave club-pledgers will all go through a process of induction this weekend, starting tonight.
I am very excited about my service club, phi alpha sigma. I already love many of the girls in the group and can't wait to formally contribute to this new subcommunity as well as all the larger communities of which I am a part.
Finally, as part of another program in which I am involved, I was assigned a mentor for this year, with the recommended option of keeping up that relationship for the rest of my years here. I was happy to find that my mentor is one of my favorite professors here. Of course it is hard to say that he is my favorite professor, since all of them are fabulous. I love how small this school is, because I literally have conversations with my professors every day. They all know my name, at the very least, and those who actually teach me know much more about me. One day when I was particularly homesick my amazing history professor pulled me aside on the way to chapel and just built me up and encouraged me. He had no idea that I was missing my family and friends, but I know God directed him to me that day. This professor will sit and eat lunch with me and talk to me about theology and life and volleyball and education. I really love the fact that everyone here is so willing to reach out to you, serve you, and encourage you. I am already trying to follow these marvelous examples. I want to serve my fellow students and teammates and my teachers in every way I can.
I want to illustrate the loving spirit of this college with just one story. Early this week I was struggling a bit with life. My RA stopped and talked to me while we were brushing our teeth and when she realized that I was upset she offered to pray for me. The next day I came back from class to find a little card stuck on my door. My RA had written me a note full of encouragement from herself and from Scripture. I felt so blessed that I nearly cried.
This college is certainly not for everyone, but I do feel that this is a place where I can grow immensely in all aspects of my life. God was watching out for me when my shoebox full of college letters was overflowing last year. I am still surprised that I left all those other fantastic colleges in favor of this one. Looking back, the story of how I chose this college is pretty astounding... it is pretty much a God thing.
In ninth grade, when I was stressing out about college choices (yes, already), a teacher advised that I pray, pray, pray. (Anytime I am stressed about anything, by the way, her first direction is to pray.) I prayed constantly about which college I would attend, and I believe that this college is the answer to those prayers. This seems to be where I belong.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
today i am...
Our psychology teacher gives us a quiz every day. They range from pop quizzes over material we should be reading to the simple assignment, "finish this sentence: Today I am..." Well right now I want to do just that.
Today I am...
...wanting with my whole soul to go skiing.
Today I am...
...so intensely excited for the game tonight.
Today I am...
...going to live it out.
Today I am...
...going to stop and smell each rose that I pass.
Today I am...
...remembering what it felt like to stand on top of the world...
Today I am...
...going to live the music inside me.
Today I am...
...going to laugh because it is raining.
Today I am going to dress up a little, because it is a special day.
Today I am going to have a wonderful day.
Today I am...
...wanting with my whole soul to go skiing.
Today I am...
...so intensely excited for the game tonight.Today I am...
...going to live it out.
Today I am...
...going to stop and smell each rose that I pass.
Today I am...
...remembering what it felt like to stand on top of the world...
Today I am...
...going to live the music inside me.
Today I am...
...going to laugh because it is raining.
Today I am going to dress up a little, because it is a special day.
Today I am going to have a wonderful day.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
let it rain...
This morning was crazy. I happened to glance at my watch and realize that exactly at that moment I was supposed to be leaving for church. I had been so deeply pondering the conundrum of what shoes to wear that I hadn't been paying attention to the time. So I carefully put on some flip-flops (they didn't quite match the mood of the outfit, so I would have been better off with the other pair...) and stepped outside. I then took a deep breath and began my mad dash to church. I am convinced that I broke the sound barrier multiple times (when I wasn't going uphill), which is universally acknowledged to be a difficult feat on a bicycle. Twenty slightly sweaty minutes of burning legs later, I walked into church as if I had just calmly stepped out of my own car and had, wizardlike, intended to arrive exactly on time.
After a delightful afternoon, I sat to do some work, but was periodically jarred out of my concentration by a series of loud, manly shrieks. I glanced out the window to see this:
If you manage to peer past the flower bed right outside our window, you will notice that a few of our boys were really enjoying their football game in the rain, and thought the entire campus would like to know about it.
I remember some wonderful rainy days when I was little. One in particular stands out to my memory...
One spring day, a heavy rain had just cleared, leaving a marvelous, enormous puddle in our driveway. My younger sister and I pressed our little noses and fingers against the window and gaped at the tempting lake only a few feet away. Naturally, being the busybodies we were, we didn't remain at the window, but begged to be allowed to play in it. My mother, like any good mother of young children, outfitted us in our rain gear. We each had little rain boots and rain coats, and my sister had a tiny pink umbrella with hearts on it. We stood in the puddle and jumped in the puddle and threw rocks in the puddle, but my mind was already working on something bigger. I was eyeing my sister's umbrella and thinking how marvelously it would float if we turned it upside down. We dropped the umbrella in the muddy water, and it floated perfectly! I of course, was eager to find out just how our pink, lopsided boat would fare under difficult circumstances, so both of us pulled off our rain boots and began filling our umbrella boat with water. Rain boots are splendid for filling boats with water. I'm not sure exactly when in this process my mother looked out the window to see some drowning little socks bobbing next to a very grey umbrella and two squealing, ragamuffin girls splashing barefoot in the puddle, jeans wet to the knees, thoroughly muddy and bedraggled, and utterly happy, but I am sure it gave her a bit of a start. What good times I had when I was little! I was a crazy little loon, I remember quite enough about my childhood to know that. Would you, parents, agree?
Everyone, life is crazy busy for me these days, but I do hope to get in a more substantial post later this week. I have so many things to say--intellectual things, essay things, things of musing, update-on-my-life things--that I had to make a list of all that I want to tell you. Thanks for reading in the meantime, and please do check back later in the week. =)
After a delightful afternoon, I sat to do some work, but was periodically jarred out of my concentration by a series of loud, manly shrieks. I glanced out the window to see this:
If you manage to peer past the flower bed right outside our window, you will notice that a few of our boys were really enjoying their football game in the rain, and thought the entire campus would like to know about it.
I remember some wonderful rainy days when I was little. One in particular stands out to my memory...
One spring day, a heavy rain had just cleared, leaving a marvelous, enormous puddle in our driveway. My younger sister and I pressed our little noses and fingers against the window and gaped at the tempting lake only a few feet away. Naturally, being the busybodies we were, we didn't remain at the window, but begged to be allowed to play in it. My mother, like any good mother of young children, outfitted us in our rain gear. We each had little rain boots and rain coats, and my sister had a tiny pink umbrella with hearts on it. We stood in the puddle and jumped in the puddle and threw rocks in the puddle, but my mind was already working on something bigger. I was eyeing my sister's umbrella and thinking how marvelously it would float if we turned it upside down. We dropped the umbrella in the muddy water, and it floated perfectly! I of course, was eager to find out just how our pink, lopsided boat would fare under difficult circumstances, so both of us pulled off our rain boots and began filling our umbrella boat with water. Rain boots are splendid for filling boats with water. I'm not sure exactly when in this process my mother looked out the window to see some drowning little socks bobbing next to a very grey umbrella and two squealing, ragamuffin girls splashing barefoot in the puddle, jeans wet to the knees, thoroughly muddy and bedraggled, and utterly happy, but I am sure it gave her a bit of a start. What good times I had when I was little! I was a crazy little loon, I remember quite enough about my childhood to know that. Would you, parents, agree?
Everyone, life is crazy busy for me these days, but I do hope to get in a more substantial post later this week. I have so many things to say--intellectual things, essay things, things of musing, update-on-my-life things--that I had to make a list of all that I want to tell you. Thanks for reading in the meantime, and please do check back later in the week. =)
Monday, September 15, 2008
greek, big words, and inside jokes
Once upon a time, I had a wonderful friend who was named Tiffany. Well, she still is named Tiffany, and she still is my friend, but she was all of that once upon a time too. Anyway, I like to call her Tiffanio on occasion. It's a good nickname, but one that means absolutely nothing to anyone but the two of us. Yet this nickname means enough to us that just my saying it will make her turn a bit pink and launch into a very entertaining response. It is one of the many dimensions of our friendship, and it is so special to us because of the memories and stories that surround the creation of this nickname.
Now as unique of friends as the two of us are, Tiffany and I are certainly not alone in this phenomenon. Everyone has inside jokes. One word or singularly unfunny phrase can send two people into paroxysms of laughter. Strange as this may seem, it is simply because those two people have shared an experience together and it only takes a few words to call up scores of memories and impressions of that experience.
In my US History class this semester (to change the subject entirely), our primary textbook is Don't Know Much About History. Um yeah, not quite the college textbooks or primary sources I read in high school. But today I picked up our second textbook and began reading. This book, A Student's Guide to U.S. History, informed me that its purpose was to communicate the telos of historical studies. Hey, I thought, there's a word I know! And I remembered all the lectures I had heard about the concept of telos. Next came the word ethos. Again, a familiar word with lots of memorable lectures behind it.
I kept reading, coming to a critique of traditional history courses which drilled facts and dates. "One could propose it as an iron rule of historical inquiry," said my book, "that there is an inverse proportionality between the importance of the question and the precision of the answer." Huh, I mused, that sounds like my history teachers' approaches, in contrast to a public school approach. I nestled deeper into my comfortable little corner and kept reading. Soon I reached this nostalgic sentence: "modern historians begin to sound like the J. Alfred Prufrocks of the intellectual world." As I read through pages and pages of allusions to Heraclitus, Homer, Hesiod, Oedipus, Thomas More, Yeats, Don Quixote, and even a brief critique of relativism and postmodernism, I began to notice an odd sensation. I was happily reminded of my high school days (I can use that phrase because I'm so far removed from them now), but I also started to realize that I am a part of a vast, respectable community of which I was previously unaware. This intellectual community has its own inside "jokes," as you might call them. For example, a mention of J. Alfred Prufrock and his inability to eat a peach would sound a bit out of place to someone who had never read "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." But simply a mention of this character and this fruit, simply the mention of Oedipal psychodrama, made McClay's entire point so much richer. In one or two words, McClay evoked the ethos of all these other people and literary works, called up hundreds of other words we both already associated with that concept, and saved himself the trouble of having to explain his point exhaustively. It feels wonderful to be included in this community, to understand and be edified by its inside jokes. Because of shared educational and intellectual experiences, one little word has the power to recall scores of memories, impressions, and philosophies. I love it. I feel very much at home in this community of which I have only just become aware.
Right now I am gratefully remembering my wonderful teachers who passionately and diligently worked to bring me into this community, who carefully laid the necessary foundation for a comprehension and appreciation of all these allusions. It is because of you that I can revel in this new intellectual community, and I want to sincerely thank all of you. And thank you for not telling me that you were bringing me into a community of which you were already a part. The surprise of the realization just made my sense of awe and delight that much stronger.
Now as unique of friends as the two of us are, Tiffany and I are certainly not alone in this phenomenon. Everyone has inside jokes. One word or singularly unfunny phrase can send two people into paroxysms of laughter. Strange as this may seem, it is simply because those two people have shared an experience together and it only takes a few words to call up scores of memories and impressions of that experience.
In my US History class this semester (to change the subject entirely), our primary textbook is Don't Know Much About History. Um yeah, not quite the college textbooks or primary sources I read in high school. But today I picked up our second textbook and began reading. This book, A Student's Guide to U.S. History, informed me that its purpose was to communicate the telos of historical studies. Hey, I thought, there's a word I know! And I remembered all the lectures I had heard about the concept of telos. Next came the word ethos. Again, a familiar word with lots of memorable lectures behind it.
I kept reading, coming to a critique of traditional history courses which drilled facts and dates. "One could propose it as an iron rule of historical inquiry," said my book, "that there is an inverse proportionality between the importance of the question and the precision of the answer." Huh, I mused, that sounds like my history teachers' approaches, in contrast to a public school approach. I nestled deeper into my comfortable little corner and kept reading. Soon I reached this nostalgic sentence: "modern historians begin to sound like the J. Alfred Prufrocks of the intellectual world." As I read through pages and pages of allusions to Heraclitus, Homer, Hesiod, Oedipus, Thomas More, Yeats, Don Quixote, and even a brief critique of relativism and postmodernism, I began to notice an odd sensation. I was happily reminded of my high school days (I can use that phrase because I'm so far removed from them now), but I also started to realize that I am a part of a vast, respectable community of which I was previously unaware. This intellectual community has its own inside "jokes," as you might call them. For example, a mention of J. Alfred Prufrock and his inability to eat a peach would sound a bit out of place to someone who had never read "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." But simply a mention of this character and this fruit, simply the mention of Oedipal psychodrama, made McClay's entire point so much richer. In one or two words, McClay evoked the ethos of all these other people and literary works, called up hundreds of other words we both already associated with that concept, and saved himself the trouble of having to explain his point exhaustively. It feels wonderful to be included in this community, to understand and be edified by its inside jokes. Because of shared educational and intellectual experiences, one little word has the power to recall scores of memories, impressions, and philosophies. I love it. I feel very much at home in this community of which I have only just become aware.
Right now I am gratefully remembering my wonderful teachers who passionately and diligently worked to bring me into this community, who carefully laid the necessary foundation for a comprehension and appreciation of all these allusions. It is because of you that I can revel in this new intellectual community, and I want to sincerely thank all of you. And thank you for not telling me that you were bringing me into a community of which you were already a part. The surprise of the realization just made my sense of awe and delight that much stronger.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
growing up
Lately I have become increasingly aware of a tension in my life. A tension between who I was once and who I am becoming. I am caught between my future and my past. This morning I bicycled to church, talked to a few people, then sat down and began considering the seating choices of my fellow worshipers.
When people go to church, I've noticed, they generally sit a) on the ends of the pews and b) toward the back of the sanctuary. I'm not sure why people sit that way, or if it is the result of any unconscious thought process. It could just be habit, but this seating pattern is nearly universal, even among people who have never attended church before. Anyway...
Then I considered my own choice of seating. I was sitting near the middle of a pew, nearer the front of the sanctuary than the back. I have done this every Sunday since I arrived here. A little atypical, but then that description generally fits me pretty well. And then I suddenly realized... I was sitting that way because I was unconsciously waiting for my family. When they came, they would fill the pew around me. On the rare occasions that I sat down in church before the rest of my family, I would always position myself this way, waiting for everyone else to arrive. A few tears began to fall as I realized that my family wouldn't be joining me in that pew this morning. They weren't coming.
Shortly after I made this realization, we sang a children's song, "I'm in the Lords Army." I remembered being a little redheaded goofball, energetically singing that song in Sunday school with my little second-grade pals. Things have really changed since the last time I sang and acted out that song. Now I am living away from my family, away from my hometown, away from all of my close friends and my dear church family.
On the one hand I am so excited about growing up. I love doing my own laundry and making my own (admittedly rather limited) food choices. I enjoy being responsible for managing my own time wisely and conducting myself virtuously. I am excited for all that my future holds.
But on the other hand, the little girl in me is still clinging to her old way of life. I tear up every time I remember that I will never really move back home again. Of course I'll visit in the summers and over Christmas, but when I'm done here, I'll be off to another school, then I'll be living on my own, maybe even getting married.
Someone recently used the image of a river to illustrate the transition I am experiencing. Life will always keep flowing onward. I can never go back to the way things used to be. If I tried, well, it would be impossible, but also my river would become still and stagnant. My life would become something slightly smelly and ugly. I would completely destroy my telos. So even though it hurts a little, on I march.
My pew was filled this morning, with the couple who serves among the young people in the church. They welcomed me (as did most of the other friendly church members) and took me out for lunch. This huge transition in my life is hard, but when I welcome it with open arms, the rewards are truly astonishing. I meet people like the warmhearted youth leaders. I meet people like the sprightly 91-year old woman in my church who knew my great-grandparents and who has welcomed me as if I were her own grandchild. I meet some amazing students and brilliant professors. By not dwelling too much on what I don't have right now (my family and friends), I can fully appreciate what I do currently have (a new church family and school friends).
So how does this relate to you? I want to tell you something you have heard before. I had heard it before too, but I really am starting to appreciate it's importance now.
Live every single day absolutely to the fullest, because you can never go back. Just as I can never go back to my childhood, I can never go back to the same relation to my family, you also cannot go back. You cannot return to this year at school, to this day at your job, to this opportunity to become involved in a community. So act in a way that ensures that when you look back, you won't have regrets.
If you don't get along with your parents now, make your relationship with them right before you leave for college, before you get married. Show your siblings how much you love them before you no longer see them every day. Don't live your life timidly, waiting for just the right opportunity to live it fully. Go out and live exuberantly now! Smell the flowers, kiss a frog, spend a day with your sister, feed a bear, brighten up someone else's day, become involved in your church or school. Make each day the best that you possibly can--it will make transitions easier from both ends. It will keep you from dwelling on the past, and it will help you to embrace the future. The key to both is how you live today.
When people go to church, I've noticed, they generally sit a) on the ends of the pews and b) toward the back of the sanctuary. I'm not sure why people sit that way, or if it is the result of any unconscious thought process. It could just be habit, but this seating pattern is nearly universal, even among people who have never attended church before. Anyway...
Then I considered my own choice of seating. I was sitting near the middle of a pew, nearer the front of the sanctuary than the back. I have done this every Sunday since I arrived here. A little atypical, but then that description generally fits me pretty well. And then I suddenly realized... I was sitting that way because I was unconsciously waiting for my family. When they came, they would fill the pew around me. On the rare occasions that I sat down in church before the rest of my family, I would always position myself this way, waiting for everyone else to arrive. A few tears began to fall as I realized that my family wouldn't be joining me in that pew this morning. They weren't coming.
Shortly after I made this realization, we sang a children's song, "I'm in the Lords Army." I remembered being a little redheaded goofball, energetically singing that song in Sunday school with my little second-grade pals. Things have really changed since the last time I sang and acted out that song. Now I am living away from my family, away from my hometown, away from all of my close friends and my dear church family.
On the one hand I am so excited about growing up. I love doing my own laundry and making my own (admittedly rather limited) food choices. I enjoy being responsible for managing my own time wisely and conducting myself virtuously. I am excited for all that my future holds.
But on the other hand, the little girl in me is still clinging to her old way of life. I tear up every time I remember that I will never really move back home again. Of course I'll visit in the summers and over Christmas, but when I'm done here, I'll be off to another school, then I'll be living on my own, maybe even getting married.
Someone recently used the image of a river to illustrate the transition I am experiencing. Life will always keep flowing onward. I can never go back to the way things used to be. If I tried, well, it would be impossible, but also my river would become still and stagnant. My life would become something slightly smelly and ugly. I would completely destroy my telos. So even though it hurts a little, on I march.
My pew was filled this morning, with the couple who serves among the young people in the church. They welcomed me (as did most of the other friendly church members) and took me out for lunch. This huge transition in my life is hard, but when I welcome it with open arms, the rewards are truly astonishing. I meet people like the warmhearted youth leaders. I meet people like the sprightly 91-year old woman in my church who knew my great-grandparents and who has welcomed me as if I were her own grandchild. I meet some amazing students and brilliant professors. By not dwelling too much on what I don't have right now (my family and friends), I can fully appreciate what I do currently have (a new church family and school friends).
So how does this relate to you? I want to tell you something you have heard before. I had heard it before too, but I really am starting to appreciate it's importance now.
Live every single day absolutely to the fullest, because you can never go back. Just as I can never go back to my childhood, I can never go back to the same relation to my family, you also cannot go back. You cannot return to this year at school, to this day at your job, to this opportunity to become involved in a community. So act in a way that ensures that when you look back, you won't have regrets.
If you don't get along with your parents now, make your relationship with them right before you leave for college, before you get married. Show your siblings how much you love them before you no longer see them every day. Don't live your life timidly, waiting for just the right opportunity to live it fully. Go out and live exuberantly now! Smell the flowers, kiss a frog, spend a day with your sister, feed a bear, brighten up someone else's day, become involved in your church or school. Make each day the best that you possibly can--it will make transitions easier from both ends. It will keep you from dwelling on the past, and it will help you to embrace the future. The key to both is how you live today.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
a freshman once more
Today is Wednesday. Today, I only have one short class. Today, (joy of joys) it is sunny. I really don't mind cool rainy days (and there have been a few lately), but they eventually do get to you. Not only is there a psychological reaction to sunlight, something about not getting a certain vitamin from the sunlight gets you down, I guess. Everyone here recommends a tanning session or two during the winter to get some of that vitamin and keep your moods up a little. We'll see.
Actually though, I have no desire to write about tanning beds. I was going to say that today is sunny and beautiful, so I decided to do my homework outside. I curled up on a bench next to a fountain and contentedly read my history textbook. I have to get through the first 46 pages by Friday morning. So I sat and basked in the sunlight and read. Of course there was the random fruit loop who casually strolled to the other side of the fountain and suddenly was kind enough to direct some of the splashing water my direction.
Boys!
I wound up greeting everyone who walked past as well. It may not be the most effective way of getting homework done, but I really do feel better about the sunny, social method than the cozy, isolated dorm room method. Anyway, I was sitting there, pondering Henry Hudson and Sir Walter Raleigh, when a voice from above me asked, "are you bszhi?" I looked up. "Am I what?" It was one of our Korean students. After several attempts, I finally answered that of course I wasn't busy. He sat down and thumbed through a small, bright pink book. He stopped on a certain page, then carefully asked me what kind of books I liked to read. We made it through that conversation starter eventually, with lots of hand gestures and funny faces. Whenever there was a lull in conversation, he turned excitedly back to his book. It was a handy little thing, full of various useful English phrases in both English and Korean. At least he didn't start with the phrase, "you are getting quite heavy" or, "are you out of your mind?" or, "only a haircut, please." There were some entertaining phrases in that little book.
We talked about a great deal of things, making it through most of the difficult parts with a smattering of Korean and related English words, and lots of gestures. Finally we were stumped on the word Frisbee. I said it several times, spelled it, described it, and acted it out. Nothing worked. So I dashed to my room for the best supplement I could find. When I came back out his face lit up. "A Frisbee!" It was so cute. So a couple Korean students and I played with my Frisbee for a while. One of my favorite parts of our conversations was the nod and smile. You know the one. It is the universal indication of polite bewilderment. The one I would rely on constantly if I was determined enough to learn a difficult foreign language.
Then there are some of the other students on campus. One of my favorite question sequences was this:
"Where are you from?"
"Were you raised on a farm?"
"Have you ever shot an elk?"
"Do you own a cowboy hat?"
"Has anyone you know ever shot an elk?"
"How often do you say, 'yeehaw!'?"
"Have you ever eaten an elk?"
"Where's that?"
The crazies I was talking to obviously know their stuff when it comes to different states.
All that to say, I am enjoying myself here. Classes started on Monday, though we haven't done a lot of real class work yet. All of our classes thus far have been spent in getting to know our 40 other classmates, reviewing our syllabus for each class, and going over the class assignment schedule (which is pretty intense, actually). I am taking 5 classes this semester: Communication II (oral communication), Matthew: The Life of Christ, General Psychology I, US History, and Physical Fitness and Wellness. I have met some very cool people, and my teachers seem to be quite good. Most of my free time is spent at volleyball practices, basketball practices (yes, basketball practices have started already), volleyball games, doing homework, and taking up space around campus (usually the cafeteria area and ping-pong tables). So there you go. =) I couldn't think of anything unique or inspiring to share this week, so you get a little glimpse into my first week of school. Exciting stuff...
Actually though, I have no desire to write about tanning beds. I was going to say that today is sunny and beautiful, so I decided to do my homework outside. I curled up on a bench next to a fountain and contentedly read my history textbook. I have to get through the first 46 pages by Friday morning. So I sat and basked in the sunlight and read. Of course there was the random fruit loop who casually strolled to the other side of the fountain and suddenly was kind enough to direct some of the splashing water my direction.
Boys!
I wound up greeting everyone who walked past as well. It may not be the most effective way of getting homework done, but I really do feel better about the sunny, social method than the cozy, isolated dorm room method. Anyway, I was sitting there, pondering Henry Hudson and Sir Walter Raleigh, when a voice from above me asked, "are you bszhi?" I looked up. "Am I what?" It was one of our Korean students. After several attempts, I finally answered that of course I wasn't busy. He sat down and thumbed through a small, bright pink book. He stopped on a certain page, then carefully asked me what kind of books I liked to read. We made it through that conversation starter eventually, with lots of hand gestures and funny faces. Whenever there was a lull in conversation, he turned excitedly back to his book. It was a handy little thing, full of various useful English phrases in both English and Korean. At least he didn't start with the phrase, "you are getting quite heavy" or, "are you out of your mind?" or, "only a haircut, please." There were some entertaining phrases in that little book.
We talked about a great deal of things, making it through most of the difficult parts with a smattering of Korean and related English words, and lots of gestures. Finally we were stumped on the word Frisbee. I said it several times, spelled it, described it, and acted it out. Nothing worked. So I dashed to my room for the best supplement I could find. When I came back out his face lit up. "A Frisbee!" It was so cute. So a couple Korean students and I played with my Frisbee for a while. One of my favorite parts of our conversations was the nod and smile. You know the one. It is the universal indication of polite bewilderment. The one I would rely on constantly if I was determined enough to learn a difficult foreign language.
Then there are some of the other students on campus. One of my favorite question sequences was this:
"Where are you from?"
"Were you raised on a farm?"
"Have you ever shot an elk?"
"Do you own a cowboy hat?"
"Has anyone you know ever shot an elk?"
"How often do you say, 'yeehaw!'?"
"Have you ever eaten an elk?"
"Where's that?"
The crazies I was talking to obviously know their stuff when it comes to different states.
All that to say, I am enjoying myself here. Classes started on Monday, though we haven't done a lot of real class work yet. All of our classes thus far have been spent in getting to know our 40 other classmates, reviewing our syllabus for each class, and going over the class assignment schedule (which is pretty intense, actually). I am taking 5 classes this semester: Communication II (oral communication), Matthew: The Life of Christ, General Psychology I, US History, and Physical Fitness and Wellness. I have met some very cool people, and my teachers seem to be quite good. Most of my free time is spent at volleyball practices, basketball practices (yes, basketball practices have started already), volleyball games, doing homework, and taking up space around campus (usually the cafeteria area and ping-pong tables). So there you go. =) I couldn't think of anything unique or inspiring to share this week, so you get a little glimpse into my first week of school. Exciting stuff...
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
a culture of communication
For a few months now, I have been reflecting on a certain issue (which either means that it's important, or that I'm obsessing). But after a trip to the mall last week with my volleyball team, my reflections were once more brought to mental center stage. There was not a moment of that shopping trip that someone was not text messaging someone else. Actually, most of the time multiple people were texting. And one individual never stopped texting.
I keep thinking about all the ways that we, as twenty-first century Americans, can keep in touch these days. There is text messaging (of course), blogging, facebook, myspace, instant messaging, phone conversations, and email. There are phones on which you can do all of the above. All of this in addition to the regular old telephones and snail mail. And I just sit back and wonder: is this power of communication a curse or a blessing? An important advance of society or an ugly disfiguration?
Back in the day, you only knew so many people. You knew your immediate family, your neighbors, your church family, your schoolmates, your butcher, and your great-uncle Arty. As a man, when you left school, you got to know coworkers. As a woman, you operated within a sphere of homemaking. If you saw your old school friends again, that was nice, but you couldn't possibly keep in touch with many of them. It just wasn't done. And when the next door neighbors Herbert and Matilda moved out of town, you just lost touch with them. That, I think, is the way a community should work. When we leave one community, we must become a part of another. We simply cannot cling to old communities as we change, and as our physical or social situations change.
However, I'm not saying that we should simply cut off every single relationship due to a change in physical location or social circles. I do think that some relationships are good to maintain. For example, it isn't even an option for me to fall out of contact with my family while I'm at college. They are a permanent part of my community, and keeping in touch with them is made so much easier because of the internet. I am also blessed to have a crew of very close friends with whom I can communicate quickly and easily. These are relationships which I will spend some time maintaining. But I must also remember that I am no longer a part of my high school community. I am no longer a part of the community of my hometown. I have a new community to be a part of. A community in this city, a community here at college, here in my dorm, in my hall, with my roommate. While technology enables me to maintain a few ties to my old community, it is my current community which I must primarily serve.
I guess I am saying that advances in communication are middle things, things which can be used for either good or bad. A gun, for example, can kill a charging beast (good), can provide food for a family (good), and can be an effective instrument of murder (bad). The gun itself is not inherently good or bad, but is a middle thing. Thus, it is up to us, the ones in control of the gun, to use it for good and not bad. That is how middle things work.
Advances in communication technology can be used to keep a family, or two or three best friends together. They can be used to transmit important information quickly and conveniently. However, they can also be used to dangerously enlarge your social sphere, involving you in too many relationships to reasonably or sanely maintain. They can shift your focus from real, personal relationships with those around you to half-hearted, impersonal relationships with those who were once around you. New forms of communication have begun to replace personal interaction, thus warping the concept of community.
As a final thought, (and also a proof that this isn't just me being a few fries short of a happy meal), I would urge you all to consider the implications of some of your core beliefs. Do you believe that you are where you are for a reason? Do you believe that God has placed you in a particular group of people so that you can serve them? If you neglect those around you in order to maintain relationships with those who are not around you, isn't that a bit of a slap in God's face? Just something to think about. You didn't think God's sovereignty and providence related to texting, did you?
They do.
If you are a facebooker, myspacer, blogger, or texter, communicate away! But always be sure to keep your priorities set, serving primarily the community that God has placed you in right now.
I keep thinking about all the ways that we, as twenty-first century Americans, can keep in touch these days. There is text messaging (of course), blogging, facebook, myspace, instant messaging, phone conversations, and email. There are phones on which you can do all of the above. All of this in addition to the regular old telephones and snail mail. And I just sit back and wonder: is this power of communication a curse or a blessing? An important advance of society or an ugly disfiguration?
Back in the day, you only knew so many people. You knew your immediate family, your neighbors, your church family, your schoolmates, your butcher, and your great-uncle Arty. As a man, when you left school, you got to know coworkers. As a woman, you operated within a sphere of homemaking. If you saw your old school friends again, that was nice, but you couldn't possibly keep in touch with many of them. It just wasn't done. And when the next door neighbors Herbert and Matilda moved out of town, you just lost touch with them. That, I think, is the way a community should work. When we leave one community, we must become a part of another. We simply cannot cling to old communities as we change, and as our physical or social situations change.
However, I'm not saying that we should simply cut off every single relationship due to a change in physical location or social circles. I do think that some relationships are good to maintain. For example, it isn't even an option for me to fall out of contact with my family while I'm at college. They are a permanent part of my community, and keeping in touch with them is made so much easier because of the internet. I am also blessed to have a crew of very close friends with whom I can communicate quickly and easily. These are relationships which I will spend some time maintaining. But I must also remember that I am no longer a part of my high school community. I am no longer a part of the community of my hometown. I have a new community to be a part of. A community in this city, a community here at college, here in my dorm, in my hall, with my roommate. While technology enables me to maintain a few ties to my old community, it is my current community which I must primarily serve.
I guess I am saying that advances in communication are middle things, things which can be used for either good or bad. A gun, for example, can kill a charging beast (good), can provide food for a family (good), and can be an effective instrument of murder (bad). The gun itself is not inherently good or bad, but is a middle thing. Thus, it is up to us, the ones in control of the gun, to use it for good and not bad. That is how middle things work.
Advances in communication technology can be used to keep a family, or two or three best friends together. They can be used to transmit important information quickly and conveniently. However, they can also be used to dangerously enlarge your social sphere, involving you in too many relationships to reasonably or sanely maintain. They can shift your focus from real, personal relationships with those around you to half-hearted, impersonal relationships with those who were once around you. New forms of communication have begun to replace personal interaction, thus warping the concept of community.
As a final thought, (and also a proof that this isn't just me being a few fries short of a happy meal), I would urge you all to consider the implications of some of your core beliefs. Do you believe that you are where you are for a reason? Do you believe that God has placed you in a particular group of people so that you can serve them? If you neglect those around you in order to maintain relationships with those who are not around you, isn't that a bit of a slap in God's face? Just something to think about. You didn't think God's sovereignty and providence related to texting, did you?
They do.
If you are a facebooker, myspacer, blogger, or texter, communicate away! But always be sure to keep your priorities set, serving primarily the community that God has placed you in right now.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
do I have to?
"The crowd joined in the attack against Paul and Silas, and the magistrates ordered them to be stripped and beaten. After they had been severely flogged, they were thrown into prison, and the jailer was commanded to guard them carefully. Upon receiving such orders, he put them in the inner cell and fastened their feet in the stocks.
About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them."
And we know the rest of the story. The jail is broken apart by an earthquake, as are the prisoners' chains. Paul and Silas, instead of hoofing it out of there, stick around and wind up witnessing the salvation of the jailer and his family. What a ridiculously crazy day and night for Paul and Silas!!
I was reading this passage in Acts 16 tonight. I have known this story for as long as I can remember. I memorized some of the passage in second grade--that's how far back this story and I go--but tonight I saw something in it that I never saw before. All my life, I was never really surprised that Paul and Silas were worshiping that night. They were apostles, servants called by God, and it was simply what they were supposed to do. It wasn't hard for them to do God's will. But over the years I have realized more and more how very human these Bible heroes were. It wasn't easy for them to do the right thing. It wasn't fun for them to be the leaders and examples God wanted them to be, but they did it anyway. And that is a huge encouragement to me. Tonight, as I sit here, my muscles are fatigued to the point of being murderous. They are so unhappy, I am afraid I'll wake up in the still of the night to hear my quads plotting to dispose of this psychotic volleyball player. Quads are notorious for having plots afoot. But anyway, my point is that I'm in a lot of muscular pain right now, so I can sympathize with the part about Paul and Silas being severely flogged and put in stocks. Tonight I was trying to kneel and nearly fell over because I was soooo sore. Paul and Silas had their backs laid bare, covered in bloody, uncared for gashes, then were chained and put in the stocks. I imagine they were in five times as much pain and discomfort as I am tonight. And then, in the middle of the night, when I would have been groaning and stressing out and probably crying giant, floppy tears of self-pity, Paul and Silas were singing hymns!! If I was praying tonight and heard God asking me to sing praises to him, I am afraid my instinctive response would be to look up squintingly and ask, "now, God? Actually, I'd really prefer not to. How about in the morning, okay? You know that even breathing hurts right now." What a tremendous force of will it must have taken to sing! When every breath made the open wounds on their backs twist in torturous pain, Paul and Silas stifled their natural gasps in order to praise the God whose service got them into this mess in the first place. I want to have a faith like that. I really do. I want to be so caught up in God that serving and worshiping him comes before my comfort--so caught up in God that worshiping him is my comfort. I want to forget my own will and submit it entirely to that of my God. I want to leave life's problems--big and little--to him, trusting that he knows what he's doing. A lot of people would call the book of Acts boring, but when it provides examples like this of what true devotion looks like, it is worth reading, and worth reading often.
About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them."
And we know the rest of the story. The jail is broken apart by an earthquake, as are the prisoners' chains. Paul and Silas, instead of hoofing it out of there, stick around and wind up witnessing the salvation of the jailer and his family. What a ridiculously crazy day and night for Paul and Silas!!
I was reading this passage in Acts 16 tonight. I have known this story for as long as I can remember. I memorized some of the passage in second grade--that's how far back this story and I go--but tonight I saw something in it that I never saw before. All my life, I was never really surprised that Paul and Silas were worshiping that night. They were apostles, servants called by God, and it was simply what they were supposed to do. It wasn't hard for them to do God's will. But over the years I have realized more and more how very human these Bible heroes were. It wasn't easy for them to do the right thing. It wasn't fun for them to be the leaders and examples God wanted them to be, but they did it anyway. And that is a huge encouragement to me. Tonight, as I sit here, my muscles are fatigued to the point of being murderous. They are so unhappy, I am afraid I'll wake up in the still of the night to hear my quads plotting to dispose of this psychotic volleyball player. Quads are notorious for having plots afoot. But anyway, my point is that I'm in a lot of muscular pain right now, so I can sympathize with the part about Paul and Silas being severely flogged and put in stocks. Tonight I was trying to kneel and nearly fell over because I was soooo sore. Paul and Silas had their backs laid bare, covered in bloody, uncared for gashes, then were chained and put in the stocks. I imagine they were in five times as much pain and discomfort as I am tonight. And then, in the middle of the night, when I would have been groaning and stressing out and probably crying giant, floppy tears of self-pity, Paul and Silas were singing hymns!! If I was praying tonight and heard God asking me to sing praises to him, I am afraid my instinctive response would be to look up squintingly and ask, "now, God? Actually, I'd really prefer not to. How about in the morning, okay? You know that even breathing hurts right now." What a tremendous force of will it must have taken to sing! When every breath made the open wounds on their backs twist in torturous pain, Paul and Silas stifled their natural gasps in order to praise the God whose service got them into this mess in the first place. I want to have a faith like that. I really do. I want to be so caught up in God that serving and worshiping him comes before my comfort--so caught up in God that worshiping him is my comfort. I want to forget my own will and submit it entirely to that of my God. I want to leave life's problems--big and little--to him, trusting that he knows what he's doing. A lot of people would call the book of Acts boring, but when it provides examples like this of what true devotion looks like, it is worth reading, and worth reading often.
Monday, August 18, 2008
on the presentation of theology
My past few weeks have been spent in delightful mayhem. At first there was the arriving home after the long month away. I laughed and tried to infuse my family with all the excitement and memories still fresh in my own head. Then came a short camping trip at the lake, followed by a week absolutely full of time with friends and family. I hung out and said goodbyes until the day I was scheduled to leave town for college. It was then that I decided it would be best to begin packing. So I turned on some music and carefully stowed most of my worldly possessions into cardboard boxes. I had just finished when it was time for my family to head off for a long drive to the coast. We camped along the coast for a little over a week, where we frolicked in the water and built things in the sand and buried things in the sand and rambled along trails in the woods and shivered around a lighthouse and made faces at the things in the tide pools and watched the waves pound against the rocky coast and toasted marshmallows until we feared a national shortage of them on our account. In short, here I am at college, moved into my half of the dorm room, waiting for my roommate to arrive and waiting for volleyball practice to start. I have also been looking around for a church home here, which is how this account relates to the title of the post. =)
While I was in Europe I had the opportunity to read through a wonderful book given to me the night of my graduation. It was The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I urge any Christian (or any non-Christian, for that matter) to read it and savor it. Bonhoeffer's theological insights delight and challenge, as well as provide refreshment for the soul. He presents sound exegetical evidence for core Christian beliefs. He analyzes these core truths and explains their significance for us as Christians. Then he challenges us to apply them to our own lives. The whole book is a scripturally sound call to righteousness, and it is awesome.
As I read this book, I realized how very different it was from anything most pastors would write today. Sadly, most contemporary pastors are extremely hesitant to step on toes. They want to make the Bible sound appealing and easy and natural. If there is one thing Christianity isn't, it's natural. Of course pastors should always have a moderate concern for presenting the Christianity in an audience-conscious way, but they must teach biblical truth first and foremost, and the truths in the Bible are very disconcerting to our natural selves. Many things in Scripture should make us feel very uncomfortable. Bonhoeffer realized this, and he was not at all concerned about making people uncomfortable. I think this is so great!! I like to feel uncomfortable in the face of God and his word. I think this is an element that many pastors today need to regain. As I search for a church here, I have high expectations. I want a church committed to sound doctrine and biblical teaching, and above all, I want to be made uncomfortable. I want to see where I fall short, and be challenged to grow and mature and be made more Christlike every day. I want my beliefs to be challenged, to be constantly held up to Scripture so that I may correct and enrich my theological position. I suppose I want a church that makes me feel like I am in Mr. V's class again. That might be a little unrealistic (I think I could safely say that Mr. V is one of a kind), but it is my goal, and we'll see how it works out.
For now, I suppose I should stop. I just need to say that you (yes you) should really read that book. Unfortunately I brought my copy to college with me (because I want to read it over and over again) otherwise you could borrow it. But you should still read this book. The Cost of Discipleship is pretty heavy reading, but it is so worth it.
The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I'm a fan.
While I was in Europe I had the opportunity to read through a wonderful book given to me the night of my graduation. It was The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I urge any Christian (or any non-Christian, for that matter) to read it and savor it. Bonhoeffer's theological insights delight and challenge, as well as provide refreshment for the soul. He presents sound exegetical evidence for core Christian beliefs. He analyzes these core truths and explains their significance for us as Christians. Then he challenges us to apply them to our own lives. The whole book is a scripturally sound call to righteousness, and it is awesome.
As I read this book, I realized how very different it was from anything most pastors would write today. Sadly, most contemporary pastors are extremely hesitant to step on toes. They want to make the Bible sound appealing and easy and natural. If there is one thing Christianity isn't, it's natural. Of course pastors should always have a moderate concern for presenting the Christianity in an audience-conscious way, but they must teach biblical truth first and foremost, and the truths in the Bible are very disconcerting to our natural selves. Many things in Scripture should make us feel very uncomfortable. Bonhoeffer realized this, and he was not at all concerned about making people uncomfortable. I think this is so great!! I like to feel uncomfortable in the face of God and his word. I think this is an element that many pastors today need to regain. As I search for a church here, I have high expectations. I want a church committed to sound doctrine and biblical teaching, and above all, I want to be made uncomfortable. I want to see where I fall short, and be challenged to grow and mature and be made more Christlike every day. I want my beliefs to be challenged, to be constantly held up to Scripture so that I may correct and enrich my theological position. I suppose I want a church that makes me feel like I am in Mr. V's class again. That might be a little unrealistic (I think I could safely say that Mr. V is one of a kind), but it is my goal, and we'll see how it works out.
For now, I suppose I should stop. I just need to say that you (yes you) should really read that book. Unfortunately I brought my copy to college with me (because I want to read it over and over again) otherwise you could borrow it. But you should still read this book. The Cost of Discipleship is pretty heavy reading, but it is so worth it.
The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I'm a fan.
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