In the Valley of the Shadow

Though Thanksgiving is one of my absolute favorite times of the year (second only to Christmas), it has a shadow cast over it this year. Holidays are all about family, and if a huge part of your family is missing....celebrating can be hard. Most days, though, I am doing well. I am doing better than I ever expected. For that I am very thankful.

I just read C.S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed," which is a short collection of notes from his journal after his wife died on cancer. I think it is the best possible book on grief, because it is not trying to comfort or explain or console....it is simply his raw, unvarnished thoughts in the midst of extreme pain. This passage really spoke to what exactly I feel right now:

"Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous. To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for appendicitis is one thing; after he's had his leg off it is quite another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will stop. Presently he'll get back his strength and be able to stump about on his wooden leg. He has "got over it". But he will probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged man. There will hardly be any moment when he forgets it. Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again.....
How often--will it be for always?--how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, “I never realized my loss till this moment?” The same leg is cut off time after time. The first plunge of the knife into the flesh is felt again and again."

i need to remember this every day

"Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength."

Corrie Ten Boom

good words for a hard day

"Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on...you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the rightness, the truth of the work itself."
-Thomas Merton

"Would you lose your sorrow? Would you drown your cares?
Then go, plunge yourself in the Godhead’s deepest sea;
be lost in his immensity;
and you shall come forth as from a couch of rest,
refreshed and invigorated."
-Charles Spurgeon

For Caleb

My precious, sweet little brother passed away suddenly on Monday morning, at the young age of 16. He was taken in his sleep with no advance notice, no time to prepare for this staggering loss. I got the call as I was about to go into work and suddenly my life was forever changed. My heart will forever be heavy with grief at the enormous hole he has left in my life, but I am full of rejoicing and peace knowing that he is resting in the arms of his Savior. It's all Caleb would have wanted. I know I will have more words to say as time goes on, but for now, I will just share the eulogy I wrote for his funeral Thursday night. These words seem horribly inadequate to honor the memory of someone so wonderful and so dear to me, but I know if he was here, he would just grin and tell me it was great.

......................

Last night, as I began to write down what I was planning to say tonight, I found myself staring at a blank white page for what seemed like hours. How can you even begin to describe a person like Caleb? There never comes a day when you wake up ready for your little brother to die. There is never a day when you wake up ready to write his eulogy. I cannot do him justice with my words, but I hope to share with you a brief glimpse of the incredible life my brother lived. I am proud to be his sister, and grateful to have been his friend.

Caleb was a better person than I can ever hope to be. God gave Caleb a special heart, and even as his older sister, I have always looked up to him. Whenever I describe my family to people, I have always said that Caleb was the best one of all of us. That was hard to explain unless you had met Caleb, and then you knew. You knew he lived with a love and maturity beyond his years. As many of you know personally, Caleb was a light to so many people. Whenever anyone was feeling down or discouraged, Caleb always had a cheerful word or a comforting thought to say to them. He had a smile that would light up a room, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. He made a conscious, daily decision to greet every new challenge and every new person with a positive attitude. He spread joy to his family and friends continually, even when he was not experiencing joy in his own life.

Caleb experienced many struggles in his brief 16 years. His seizures caused him a great deal of physical and emotional pain that most people never saw. His epilepsy brought him challenges academically and on the playing field in lacrosse. He often came home from school weighed down with anxiety and sadness. He rarely felt like he fit in with other kids his age as well as he would like. It broke my heart sometimes to see the burdens he carried at such a young age. He often told me how he wanted to be close to more kids his age, and yet, as I look out over this crowd, I know he was deeply loved beyond what he could have ever imagined.

If you were to meet him, you would probably never know any of these struggles. I never, ever heard Caleb complain. He never pitied himself, and he never blamed others for his pain. I never heard him speak out in anger or retaliation against anyone. Instead, he always wanted to know what he could do to be a better friend. Rather than focusing on his circumstances, Caleb spent every waking moment at home making sure his family was okay. He cared so much more about us than about himself. He always asked us about our day before telling us about his own. He always asked how he could help when he could see one of us feeling stressed or sad. He would come and give my dad a hug, or offer to help my mom in the kitchen, or make me a cup of coffee. He never went to sleep without hugging us all goodnight and reminding us once again how much he loved us. He poured out so much love on me, my parents, and my brother Josh through his sacrificial service every single day, without ever asking to be served in return. He truly had a servant’s heart, more so than anyone I have ever known.

When I saw Caleb, I saw Jesus. Caleb not only loved the Lord with all his heart, but truly lived in a manner worthy of the calling of Christ. He befriended those who no one else would befriend. He was drawn to reach out to those who were lonely and isolated. He loved unconditionally, without judgment and without the expectation of being loved in return. He lived every day with unbiased compassion. His life is the most pure and beautiful picture of the love of Christ I will ever know in my time on this Earth.

It is hard to imagine how my life will go on without my little brother. The painful road ahead seems too immense to bear. Yet, by the grace of God, the intensity of my grief is matched by the depth of my joy. I rejoice with Caleb in the truth that his physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual struggles have all ended as he rests in the everlasting arms of his precious Savior. Caleb often spoke of his longing for a deeper relationship with the Lord, and I now know that prayer has been answered. He is finally experiencing perfect peace, perfect joy, and perfect love in the presence of his heavenly Father. Since Caleb’s passing on Monday, I keep thinking of what Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Caleb had the most pure and childlike heart I have ever known, and He is now seeing God face to face. His faith has become sight.

As my family and I deal with the devastating grief of losing a beloved son and brother, we press on with the knowledge that Caleb’s life and death has touched hundreds of people in ways we will never begin to know. We can only express gratitude for the 16 years we were allowed to have this precious gift in our lives, and for the multitude of beautiful memories we will treasure until the day when we see him again. His example of love, joy, humility, patience, kindness, and gentleness is the greatest gift God has ever given us, and we are forever thankful. I will miss him more than words can say.

One Cup of Tea

One of the best things about my job is the variety. Some days I sit at a desk typing on a computer for hours, and other days I am racing around like a mad woman. The best days are the ones when I get to spend time with the refugees themselves, when I can actually share a few minutes or a few hours of someone's life with them. A few days ago I stopped by to visit some Bhutanese clients and they invited me to sit down on the couch. We sat around mostly in silence, except for their few phrases of English and my three words of Nepali, just this big refugee family sitting and staring at me. They brought in a plate filled with small cups of tea that was unlike any tea I've ever tasted....very milky and sweet and incredibly spicy. They taught me how to say "hot tea": tatu chia. They clapped and laughed and cheered when I strung these two simple words together, and it made me wonder if anyone has ever down that for them when they learned two words of English....I doubt it. I said it over and over again. Tatu chia, tatu chia, tatu chia, and each time they were more delighted. "You are so smart," they said happily, and tapped my head. "You remember good." They have probably experienced more trauma and pain then I will ever know, and yet they are here with me, smiling and laughing.

So I have these beautiful moments. They aren't the norm, but they are always a joy and a gift, and they remind me why I am here. These are moments when I think, "I can't imagine being anywhere but here. I can't imagine doing anything but this." I know I am where I am supposed to be.

21 Highlights of my 21st Year

1) Turning 21 in Prague. This was amazing not only because its my favorite city in the world, but the friends who made it special. And the most yummy birthday meal ever.

2)Living with roommates who have cats/kittens. None of these have been mine, but playing with Babar and Italics on a regular basis has been a highlight of my days (besides getting bitten a lot).

3) Learning to cook. I'm no gourmet chef yet, but at least I'm doing more than microwaving these days.

4) Living in Glasgow, one of the coolest, edgiest, hipest cities ever, for four months. Even just walking to get groceries was a thrill!

5) Eating crepes and bagettes in Paris by the Seine. Ahhhh....

6) Seeing the Swell Season and Sara Groves perform live....two of the best concerts I've ever had the pleasure of attending.

7) Reading Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea and Stones Into Schools, and Khaled Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns. Go read these books.

8) Seeing the grave of Geoffrey Chaucer in Westminster Abbey.

9) Camping under the desert stars in the New Mexico wilderness

10) I became a college graduate! Not that it means much these days...

11) Experiencing a snowstorm in the middle of June in the Colorado Rockies.

12) Eating Dijon mustard in Dijon, France, and a hamburger in Hamburg, Germany.

13) Meeting my Scottish friends Roddy and Fiona, witnessing their engagement, and being a bridesmaid in their wedding in Scotland, all in one year. I couldn't have imagined anything so wonderful :)

14) Meeting new friends from Scotland, Germany, France, India, New Zealand, Poland, and America, to name a few. The best part of traveling is getting to know so many wonderful people from such wildly diverse backgrounds!

15) Having one last semester to really savor and appreciate the fact that I was studying two subjects I loved. I miss both Dance and English classes these days.

16) Working with refugees as a volunteer, an intern, and now as a full time case manager. It is both the most challenging and most rewarding thing I have ever done.

17) Eating fresh vegetables from our garden and homemade barbeque this summer with my family. Yummy!

18) Reuniting with one of my best friends after over a year apart. This is a testament to the love of Christ being strong enough to cover all wrongs and heal all wounds, and I am so eternally grateful.

19) Getting a job that pays the bills. These are hard to come by these days, so I am really thankful. I have the added bonus of doing something I'm passionate about, which is incredible.

20) My new apartment, with two wonderful girls who just took me out for pumpkin chocolate chip cake to celebrate my birthday!

21) Over the course of this year, I have had big fears, big adventures, and big joys, and I have seen God's hand in every one of those. I am thankful for another year of growing closer to Him and seeing his provision in so many ways.

Here's to year 22!!

Work and Rest

This week, I have experienced so many different emotions in the course of a few days on the job....excitement, fear, stress, anxiety, and confusion, to name a few. Working with refugees is a scary thing, because it's sink or swim, and if you sink, it feels like you're drowning your clients along with you. I have come home the past few nights feeling so burdened that I was afraid I might snap or cry if someone tried to talk with me....and I have not begun to tackle the truly difficult elements of my job yet. One night I was watching a movie with my new friend/co-worker, and she saw me trying to work on my to-do list. Her reaction was the best possible thing for me: she promptly threw my list and my planner across the room and forced me to simply relax instead. I can see how easily people become workaholics and why it's so hard to turn that part of your brain off when you leave the office.

These days, I have been thinking a lot about peace and how much I lack it. I am hungry for peace, for a deep soul rest that permeates my long days and busy hours, that guards my anxious mind and my hurting heart in a work environment where I daily see injustice and experience frustration at the systems of this world. My pastor recently made an interesting connection between peace and gratitude, which makes so much sense to me the more I think about it. I want to be grateful for the good things I see in this job and grateful for the opportunities I will have to change the bad things. If you are someone who prays, pray for peace and gratitude to fill my life and overflow into the lives around me.

Here's the great thing: so far, I have woken up every day feeling happy to go into work. Exhausted, yes, but determined and excited to tackle the day. Not optimistically, naively happy about somehow changing the world, but ready to do whatever I can to help transform my own tiny corner of the world. There is a great sense of contentment and joy in doing what you know you're supposed to be doing, in extending a chance for survival and hope into a person's life, in knowing that you are spending your days working towards something that is at the very heart of God. I know that positive emotions such as these can never be the motivation or the end goal of such work, or they will only lead to burnout and bitterness.... Nevertheless, they are such a blessing in this realm which often seems so bleak, a daily grace in a world where grace is so scarce. I am so helpless in all that I do without the grace and peace of Christ.

So it begins!

Tomorrow is the first day of my brand new, 9 to 5, real adult job. I feel like it's the first day of high school all over again....I am very nervous, very excited, and mulling over countless outfit possibilities. And now I'm sitting in bed typing this because I am too full of anticipation to sleep. Let's be honest: this might be the only day I will ever feel excited about waking up to go to work, so I'm going to savor the feeling while it lasts.

my favorite song this week

college? over? really?

Today, I helped my little brother move into his college dorm room for the first time. And I kept thinking, "Shouldn't this be me?"

Strange how four years can fly by so quickly....

The Other Side

The strange thing about going to another country is that once you are there, you feel as though somehow you have always been there. Your friends and family and familiar places all feel infinitely far away and the past feels like a distant memory. Being back in Scotland just felt completely natural, but it felt like stepping back into a different life, with different friends and different stories and different customs. Then when you leave, it feels so bizarrely unnatural. The divide between the two countries feels so deep and impossible to bridge, yet you know you were in one just yesterday and another one today. It feels even more strange and separated knowing that I am the only one who walks between these two particular lives....on each side, there is no one who really knows my friends or experiences from the other side. It leaves you with so much to say and no one to really say it to.

So I am trying to process all of that, while also packing up this week and preparing to move into a new season of life as a working adult. And after travelling over 24 hours yesterday, I am more than a bit exhausted and disoriented!
Every day in Scotland contained a billion blog posts, with no time to write any of them. But here's a few more small highlights:

1) I survived a fishing expedition on the Scottish seas! While the trip was beautiful, it is possibly one of the worst ideas ever to go out sailing on stormy, choppy waters the day after an exhausting wedding. I was pretty convinced our boat was going to capsize and/or I would lose my lunch, but thankfully, neither happened (the story of Jesus and the disciples out on the ocean came to mind quite a few times). On the bright side, I caught three huge fish for dinner, and they were scrumptious.

2) Speaking of marine life, one of the many lovely homes I stayed in was right next to Chanonry Point, on the Black Isle. Chanonry Point is considered the best spot in the entire United Kingdom to see wild dolphins, and it was a five minute walk from the house where I stayed! I met with many days of disappointment in my search for dolphins, but the day before I left the Black Isle, they finally decided to come out for me. Such an amazing sight.

3) A couple of culinary triumphs: the Crichton family kindly asked me to make some traditional cornbread for them, and with great trepidation (it would kill me to mess up such a staple of Southern cuisine) I did so...and it was a success! Then in Glasgow, I tried my hand at a Gordon Ramsey recipe: a chocolate chestnut truffle cake. It was decadent and gooey and utterly delicious....the perfect addition to a dinner party in a beautiful city with such lovely friends.

4) I experienced the best part of socialized medicine: I got pretty sick during my last few days in Scotland, and a doctor saw me for free (despite the fact that I was an American visitor, not a taxpayer), then prescribed antibiotics which I was able to buy for about five dollars. I know having a nationalized health system has its major disadvantages as well, but the free medical treatment and cheap medicine were both pretty sweet!

Weddings, Scottish Style

Five days after my first Scottish wedding, and I'm still trying to recover. The bridesmaids and bride got up at 7:00 am to begin getting hair and makeup done, and the wedding was not officially over until we left the reception at 2:00 am that evening. The day was incredible, and I was thrilled to find that I knew more people at this wedding than I do at most weddings I've attended in America. People from every part of my time in Scotland last year were there, and it was so much fun to reunite with friends on such a celebratory day. Never a dull moment!

Naturally, I couldn't help observing a few cultural wedding differences:

1) Scottish weddings are loooooong (as already noted above). There was the ceremony, then a brief reception at the church (ours involved Krispy Kreme doughnuts which were painstakingly transported from England), then a brief champagne reception, followed by a massive three course dinner, multiple speeches, and then four hours of dancing. Halfway through the dancing, at about 10:30, was when I began to think I might just collapse from exhaustion. And what would come along just then but a GIANT PIG, a whole roast pig, head and all, being carved up and served to hungry dancers. There had already been such massive amounts of food leading up to this that I just found myself in total shock that anyone could eat a giant slice of pig flesh before heading back onto the dance floor!

2) One of the most obvious differences: the men wear kilts. Laugh if you might, fellow Americans, but I think a smart kilt with a waistcoat is one of the most dapper, dashing things a man can wear. This ensemble also comes complete with a sporran, which is an animal skin purse that many fellows might carry a wee flask in, and a dagger to be worn in the man's sock. It's quite an impressive get-up.

3) True to the Free Church tradition, the wedding ceremony involved congregational singing of several acapella psalms, which sounded incredible with 300 guests echoing behind us. I say behind us, because in Scottish weddings, the wedding party all turns their back to the guests and faces the minister instead. It becomes very tempting to peer over your shoulder and see the massive crowd behind you!

4) The reception involves quite a few speeches....not just small wedding toasts, but carefully written speeches. Traditionally I believe these are given by the bride's father, the groom's father, the best man, and the groom himself, although in this wedding, a speech by the maid of honor was given as well. In typical Scottish fashion, these involve quite a few sarcastic jokes or embarrassing stories at the expense of the bride and groom, but also feature moving tributes, heartfelt advice, and a great deal of gratitude.

5) The dancing. How do I even begin to describe it? This portion is known as the ceilidh (pronounced like kay-lee), and everyone is involved, from young kids to grandparents. If you've ever been contra dancing, this is pretty similar....traditional Scottish dancing steps done with a partner, often in circular or linear patterns. The amazing thing is, everyone knows these dances. The band would just call out a name, such as "Strip the Willow" or "The Dashing White Sergeant," and nothing more would be explained or called out...the whole crowd (minus the American guests) knew all the steps, and eagerly joined in. It was such good fun, in particular because everyone was so enthusiastically involved. I tried to stay with Scottish partners as much as possible since I had no idea what I was doing!

6) At the end of the night (about 1:30 AM) we all gathered round in two huge circles surrounding the bride and groom, and all linked arms as we sang "Auld Lang Syne." I know this is more of a New Year's song in the States, but in Scotland, it's used in many different contexts, and always ends a big ceilidh. It was a moment I'll never forget... looking around and seeing the joy on everyone's faces as we sang in strong, soaring harmony, surrounding the new couple with an outpouring of joy.

Pocahontas of the Highlands

One of the things I really love about being back here is being back in the Free Church. Yesterday we went to two services that involved singing purely acapella psalms and having a cup of tea directly after the sermon.....only in Scotland! Being with Fiona's family is really lovely too, because they are so warm and kind. I just feel like a part of their family already. Every night they gather around the fireplace and they all sing a psalm, followed by their father reading a passage of scripture and a long prayer. I should note that all of their children are in their twenties, and they still particpate in this every day when they're home. It's such a comforting and beautiful tradition, and I really loved being a part of it for a few days.

The church service yesterday brought quite a few laughs with it too. Many people were quite intrigued by Fiona's American bridesmaid, so they came up to introduce themselves and ask me about myself. One Scottish couple who were about my parents' age chatted with me for a long time, and then all of a sudden, the husband asked "So, are both your parents American?" I was a bit surprised by the question, but I replied, "Yes, they are." He said, "I just wondered, because you look quite dark." His wife and daughter were rather horrified, but I just laughed and said, "Well, that's maybe because I am part Native American." They all murmured excitedly about this for a minute, and then he blurted out, "That makes sense, because I have been thinking this whole time you look a wee bit like Pocahontas." Everyone around us was totally mortified and embarassed, but I just died laughing and told him I thought it was absolutely hilarious. I told him it would give me an excellent story to take back to the States....it's not every day you get compared to a Disney princess, you know. Quite an achievement, I'd say!

Stunningly surreal Skye


I have discovered the most beautiful place on Earth. Argue with me if you want, but I will stubbornly contend that the Isle of Skye is the most spectacular location known to man. I feel like I am at the very edges of the earth, in the secluded little town of Portree. I took a three hour bus journey here from Inverness, past Loch Ness (no monster sightings, I'm afraid) and then through the most gorgeous series of mist shrouded mountains and enormous lochs (the Scottish word for lakes). As we drove higher and higher into the mountains through pouring rain and thick fog, the landscape got progressively more mysterious and breathtakingly beautiful. I had planned to sleep on the bus, but I just couldn't turn my eyes away. When we finally arrived on the island, I was convinced that I had entered a magical fairy land. That may sound silly, but I don't know how else to describe this place. It is an epic, fantastical sort of beauty that looks like something I imagined in Narnia or Middle Earth. Pictures don't begin to capture the lush green of the mountains or the crystal blue of the water. I went with my friend Fiona and two of her brothers for a long drive around the surrounding countryside today and a great hike into the mists of Storr Mountain. I kept gasping every time we would drive around a new bend in the road, and the native Scots in the car were rather amused by how spectacular I found it to be. To them it's sort of an everyday occurance, but I felt as though I was walking through a dreamscape.I turned to Fiona at one point today and said, "I could not have imagined a place this beautiful even in my wildest dreams." We are moving on to another part of Scotland on Monday to prepare for the wedding on Thursday, but I know that I would be perfectly content to just stay here forever by the fireplace, sipping my cup of tea, surrounded by such a heavenly landscape and such wonderfully kind people.

Scotland: the Glorious Return!

It feels "pure dead brilliant" to be back in Scotland. I am currently on the Black Isle up near Inverness, and I just got back from riding a bike down to the the point of the island where the waves lap onto the shore. Some rare sunshine today made the landscape all the more beautiful....it's hard to describe the scenery, but it looks a bit as if the Blue Ridge mountains were transplanted to the coast. It's simply stunning.
The journey over here was pretty smooth sailing, despite a brief lockdown in the Charlotte airport, some crazy turbulance during my flight to Glasgow, and some intense jet lag the past couple of days. I arrived at the Glasgow airport at 6:30 AM, very tired but incredibly excited. That excitement quickly turned to panic as the International Arrivals section slowly cleared out and finally, I was the last one left. I suddenly realized that my friend Fiona and I had not actually discussed when or where we were going to meet after I landed! There are few things quite so scary as feeling totally alone and stranded in a foreign country, with no way to contact anyone that could help you. I probably freaked out far more than I should, but at the time it was pretty alarming! Fiona did arrive at 9:30 and we had quite a laugh over our total lack of communication about how she would pick me up.

Walking around Glasgow with Fi was so surreal. The city and my friends all felt like something from a faraway dream or something from a story I once read. It was so wonderful to rediscover that it was all so marvelously REAL. It has been so amazing to reunite with my dear friends and to see this beautiful country again. I'm getting very well-fed at the Maclean residence on the Black Isle at the moment, and then tomorrow evening I'll be taking a bus up to Skye to spend some time with the bride's family. It's a whirlwind of wonderful people and places, and I'm just enjoying the ride!

Dancing and departing

My summer, for the most part, has drifted by like a winding stream of lazily drifting days....and then all of a sudden, wham, a flurry of activity. This past week was my annual dance conference (I call it "dance camp") in Charlotte. I've been attending this conference since I was twelve, but during my college years, other commitments always prevented me from going. This year, however, I had the incredible blessing of having that week free. This camp consists of an intense, rigorous daily schedule of devotions, dance technique classes, rehearsing choreography, teaching, and worship. It is an amazing feeling to dance all day long, then worship for hours at a time every night, leaving me with a unique blend of extreme physical exhaustion and powerful spiritual refreshment.

One of the things I love about this place is that God always meets me there. I know I'll never leave there without an intense experience of His presence and a fresh thirst for scripture. Sometimes that presence is comforting and beautiful....sometimes it is a convicting force that breaks me with the sight of my own unrighteousness. This past week, it was all of the above, and I am so thankful.

I want to write so much more about this, but I am literally leaving for Scotland in 10 minutes. It is hard to believe that, God-willing, I will land in Glasgow in less than 24 hours! Please pray for safety in travel (especially since I am traveling alone again) and for me to somehow catch up on the sleep I am missing from this past week even in the midst of jet-lag.

Next time I will be writing you from the other side of the ocean!

ingredients of a good evening

1. reuniting with the best old high school pals ever
2. pizza
3. contradancing the night away!

An Homage to Coffee

I saw a Today Show clip this afternoon about the dangers of giving your children coffee, involving paranoid parents and nutritionists. They primarily focused on the horrors of extra sugars and fat in fancy coffee drinks, because "no child is going to drink black coffee." Ridiculous, I say.

Fact: I started drinking black coffee when I was five. It is a delicious nectar of delight that has enriched my life and brought joy to my days. I drink it in the morning when I wake up and in the late hours of the night before falling asleep (though I have cut back to only two or three cups a day). Contrary to the popular urban myths, coffee never stunted my growth in the slightest. I also contend that drinking coffee before/during classes always sharpened and enhanced my academic performance in high school and college. The smell of coffee makes me feel warm and happy inside, and my first sip of the tasty brew never fails to thrill me. A good cup of coffee can bring friends together or provide comfort on a solitary day. It is nostalgia, artistry, and passion inside a mug.

Forget the milk, sugar, syrups, and whipped cream.....give me a strong, dark, intense cup of rich black coffee any day. Simple, classic, and delectable.

happy independence day


This is the first 4th of July I have been able to celebrate with my family since 2006. It involved a small town parade, amazing fireworks, fun times spent with relatives, and some really delicious barbeque....the quintessential elements of any good celebration!

Where your treasure is...

A couple of nights ago, my mother looked over at me and said, "So have you just given up on your blog?"

What can I say? Sometimes the inspiration to write just doesn't strike, and I get lazy about blogging. I'll admit, this summer has made me lazy and lethargic in general, and I don't like the feeling. I've realized that so much of the joy is drained out of leisure when that's the majority of how you spend your waking hours. Simple pleasures like reading a book, watching a good movie, or soaking up some sun are so much sweeter when contrasted with a life that's somehow constructive and/or productive. Relaxation is best after a hard day of work or study, not after days and days of more relaxation.

Who knows, maybe I just need to learn how to enjoy a break when I get one. One productive thing I have been doing this summer is beginning the long, dirty, arduous process of cleaning out my room. Not just a tidying-up sort of cleaning, but an intense "I am moving out permanently and so should all my earthly possessions" sort of cleaning. It's sort of a sad process (I am a total packrat and I hate getting rid of things), but also remarkably liberating. It makes me take some long term perspective on my life and consider what I really want to keep with me through the coming years.

What really amazes me is how much stuff I've managed to accumulate in my short time on this earth. Whenever I get back from a trip, especially a trip overseas, I am always reminded of how little I really need. I have happily lived out of suitcases for months at a time...then upon returning home, it suddenly seemed as though I couldn't live without all those silly, extraneous things I'd lived without for so long.

My particular weakness is for sentimental items. Today I dug through piles of old high school photos, t-shirts from my musical theater days, costumes, some ugly dance trophies, a few sketchbooks full of terrible artistic attempts in middle school, report cards, a box of encouraging notes from my fellow counselors at camp, and countless ticket stubs saved from various metro rides in European cities. Every tiny item, no matter how silly and trivial it might seem, felt like a tough call. Throw it away, or add it to the ever increasing mountains of stuff that come with me every time I move? Though I have to admit keeping more than I should, I was reminded over and over again how temporary all these things are. The memories themselves are woven into my life, and throwing away some physical reminders won't change that reality.

Someday, when I (God willing) have a family of my own, I don't want my home to be crowded with boxes of souvenirs and mementos of just MY life, but of the life I share with my husband and children. I want to be free to simply cherish experiences in my heart wherever life takes me, free from a burden of excessive nostalgic trinkets and greedy accumulation. I can only hope to look back at the end and be able to say I was more invested in people than in things, more eager to give than to buy, more trusting in God than in any amassed wealth.

On the Road Again

So it's Sunday night, and I'm about to set out for Colorado. Two friends and I plan to drive through the night and all day tomorrow through Tenessee, Arkansas, and Oklahoma, stop to sleep, then drive through Texas and spend a day in New Mexico, where we will camp out in the desert before finally making it up to San Juan Mountains in Silverton, Colorado. Silverton is a small old mining town, miles away from anything, surrounded by the most enormous, breathtaking mountains I've ever seen. I am so excited to be back there for a couple of weeks. No technology, no distractions, just fresh air, pure spring water, dazzling views, and massive mountains waiting to be climbed.

Please pray that we will have safe travels, alert driving on very little sleep, good fellowship together, and no hiking accidents (my last Colorado trip involved getting slammed in the forehead with a rock, so I'm hoping not to repeat that)....

Now, time to hit the open road and have some adventures!!



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life in the backwoods

I moved home to the mountains two days ago. Since returning home, I have:

*tried (and failed) to ride a motorbike
*pulled a few weeds in the garden
*sat around a bonfire cooking hotdogs and smores with my family
*biked the Virginia Creeper Trail (17 miles of pure awesomeness)
*shot a handgun
*ate the very best homemade barbeque in the world

Gotta love country livin'!

"take this sinking boat and point it home"

I went to a Swell Season concert this weekend, and it was hands down the best concert I've ever been to. I've never seen an entire audience so emotionally moved and throughly enraptured as they were on that lovely summer night. If you've never heard the lush, gorgeous, intense melodies of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, you should go treat yourself to that right now. Or if you have not seen the movie Once, go do that too.

In addition to enjoying their incredible vocal harmonies and musical talents, the concert gave me such a beautiful rush of memories. I love how music has the power to instantly take you back to a moment in time. I remembered how I was first introduced to the Swell Season during my summer in Prague. The girls I lived with would play "Falling Slowly" almost every morning as we got ready to begin a new day. Hearing it played live filled my heart with joy and longing.

The concert reminded me why art is important: sometimes we need moments of intense beauty or poignant sadness to break us out of our everyday, commonplace routines and remind us that there is so much more. More richness in our memories, more depth behind our day-to-day lives, more hope and awe yet to come.

the post-grad doldrums

Being a college graduate feels strangely unproductive and sort of boring. I know that's a temporary feeling that I'll probably look back on wistfully someday, but for now it's unnerving. I keep picking up my laptop and checking my email over and over again.....and nothing. I keep thinking I must be forgetting some undone homework, but then I remember it's all done....permanently. Today I started pouring over grad school admissions handbooks at Barnes and Noble because I just can't stand having nothing to do or plan.

Oh goodness. What is wrong with me?

Addiction

I have been sitting in a coffee shop this afternoon, doing my last big study/cram session before the final exam of my undergrad life. I was feeling stressed, about studying and about life, and then I overheard the woman sitting beside me. She was a lovely woman in her mid-thirties, who was making phone calls to various women's shelters to see if they would take her in for a few weeks. Her husband had left her, and she had just completed a rehab program for alcoholism. As she explained her situation to various shelters, she sounded so sweet and so genuine. Some time later, a friend came into join her, and they both began to talk about their experiences with alcoholism and recovery. All of my petty anxieties seemed so small in the light of these women's lives, and I wished so much that I could just jump into their conversation and ask to hear their stories.

My essay exam tomorrow is for my Literary Study of the Bible class, and it's on the subject of surprise endings. Over the past few days, I've been thinking about surprises in the Bible, and my mind has been overwhelmed with the fact that the entire book seems like a continual series of surprises, twists, and subverted expectations. As I was overhearing the conversation between these two women, I was writing this paragraph as a rough draft of what I want to write tomorrow on my exam:

"The great surprise of the Bible is that God always uses the unusable, changes the unchangeable, and loves the unloveable. He chooses a murderous coward to lead his people out of Egypt, a young shepherd boy to become the king of Israel, an unknown teenage peasant as the mother of Christ, a group of dirty shepherds as the bearers of angelic tidings, a woman formerly possessed by demons as the first witness of the resurrected Jesus, and a vicious persecutor of the early church as a zealous apostle of the faith. In both the Old and New Testament, God's actions continually defy human expectations of behaviorally based favor and love."

The women beside me began to talk about their faith as I wrote this and I was overwhelmed with this real life picture of what I was writing. I bet their experience of Jesus' love and mercy is so much richer and deeper than I can even imagine. I think there is something beautiful in the utter darkness and horror of an addiction: it makes that false infinite, that sweet poison, that substitute god so clear and tangible in its destructiveness. An addict knows their utter vulnerability, brokenness, and weakness in a way that very few of us are willing or able to admit.

I think we're all addicted to something. One of my (many) addictions happens to be approval, which is particularly destructive when it leads me to believe that I can earn the love and approval of God. The realization that I cannot lose God's love is a daily one, always pushing against the voice inside that tells me I am a failure, or against the pride that tells me I deserve every possible happiness the world has to offer. Freedom lies somewhere in the balance, in knowing that I am desperately broken and yet freely, lavishly loved and delighted in. I think that balance is resting in grace......grace upon grace upon grace that I cannot understand or deserve or lose.

A few good reasons to babysit

1. Playing in the park on a sunny day is the best fun you can have. Especially wading in a creek with a 3 year old who loves to throw rocks.

2. Dress up! Who couldn't love dress up? The boys put on their fireman and Power Ranger costumes (cutest things I've ever seen) and told me they had to protect me (I was the Princess, naturally) with their fire-fighting and karate skills. They also made me a gun out of Legos and told me that would protect me if they couldn't be around.

3. Making funny faces in the mirror to get distracted little boys to brush their teeth.

4. Reading bedtime stories and saying bedtime prayers.

5. Building Legos, making LiteBrite patterns, shooting laser guns, lightsaber battles, playing soccer....need I say more?

6. When I asked the 5 year old what he would be when he grew up, he replied, "A dolphin trainer." After a thoughtful pause, his little brother cheerfully answered, "I will be a crab someday." I wanted to explain that changing species probably wouldn't happen, but I decided to let him dream.

All she wants to do is dance

Today was my last day of dance classes. I found myself being oddly melancholy and nostalgic about it. It's pretty hard for adults to take dance classes....finding time is hard enough, not to mention that classes are expensive. I feel so thankful to have had the opportunity to be regularly training in dance technique for ten years now, and it feels like that chapter in my life is closing a little bit now.

Other seniors in my Modern dance class were getting a bit teary eyed today, too. Dance is one of those majors you get kind of attached to. No one studies dance at the university level because they think they're going to make big money or be famous. We do it because we love it and it gives us an extra four years to enjoy and perfect our craft. People don't usually believe it when I tell them, but Dance has been a much harder subject to study than English (my other major). In a regular class, you can show up and kind of tune out behind your desk if you're tired or having a bad day. In dance, you have to be physically active and engaged the entire time. You have to be willing to get critiqued or to just fail as you try to perform a combination. You have to be ready for the possibility of physical injuries (mine have included a pinched nerve in my back, sprained ankles, tendonitis, and more bruises, blisters, scraped knees, and floor burns than I can count).

As I was taking class today, I thought about how exhilarating dance is for me sometimes. Even just in a simple technique class, as you move you often get a sense of being a part of something grand and beautiful. You aren't just sitting back and taking life as it comes to you, you are actively creating and experiencing things in a very visceral, tangible way. There's something transcendent in it that connects me to God and to people in a way I can't quite describe.

Anyway.....I'll miss it.

with the end(beginning?) in sight

This week a friend chided me for never writing on this blog. "It's like once every two weeks!" she scolded (in the sweetest way possible), "So girl, you gotta get on that!"

Well, perhaps when I am no longer writing academic papers, I will write for fun again. And my goodness, that will be in ONE WEEK. I'm still pretty much in shock. One week of classes left in my college career. I am tempted to quote Lord of the Rings, "How did it come to this, here at the end of all things?"....but I would not treat LOTR in a joking manner.

Oh, and can I tell you the subject of my final college paper? Analyzing a poem about bestiality. Why, prof, why?

In lieu of my own writing, I will pass along a couple of things I discovered this week that you should discover too:
1) http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/ This site is hilarious. It's just pictures of grotesquely unhealthy food. Some will make you want to hurl, but at least a few just made me hungry. And quite a few involve some combination of bacon and chocolate (genius, if you ask me). Scroll through to at least page 4 to see some real gems like "The Bacon-copia" or the deep fried beer cupcakes. I kid you not.

2) If you're looking for some cute, lighthearted music---> Pomplamoose! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xMCNmUaGko) You might have heard this song in a commercial, but the duo has some great covers of some current radio hits as well that are pretty fun (i.e. Telephone, Single Ladies). Check it out!

Free Coffee!

If you are an addict like me (or even someone who mildly enjoys the delicious substance known as coffee), you should know that Starbucks is offering a free cup of their magical brew to anyone who brings in a reusable travel mug tomorrow (April 15th). I plan to be there bright and early before the start of my four back-to-back Thursday classes....yeeehaw!

my (disgusted) laugh for the day

A quote from an ABC Nightline interview airing this week with "evangelist" Joyce Meyer (my apologies for sarcasm if you happen to admire this woman for some reason):

Nightline: So if Jesus were here, he'd have a corporate jet?

Meyer: He might today, they weren't available then.

I should note Joyce is also publishing her 80th book this week, titled (I kid you not) Eat the Cookie, Buy the Shoes. Dear Ms. Meyer, do you know how many people in the world would love to just eat a piece of bread and have a simple pair of flip flops to protect the soles of their feet, and instead you want to publish a whole book encouraging American Christians to indulge themselves? Do you know how many people you could feed and clothe with the money you used for your mansion, multiple private jets, and face lift?

Oh, and on the subject of her recent plastic surgery, she said that Jesus would want her to look her absolute best as she presented the gospel. Really, Joyce, really?

One Week After Easter

One week after Jesus appeared to the rest of the disciples, he appeared again to Thomas. One week. How long must that week have felt for the one who struggled with doubt? How long do the weeks and months and years feel in our lives feel when we just long for Him to show up?

Recently I've watched several of my friends going through seasons of immense pain. Some struggle to believe God is good, others to believe He's powerful, others that He exists at all. My heart feels so burdened in the midst of all of it and sometimes I don't know how to offer comfort. Sometimes I just want comfort myself. Mostly I just try to listen.

Someone asked recently if I would still be a Christian if the whole thing were false, if it were all a man-made sham and Jesus was a fluke. I think there have been times in my life when I would have said yes, when I would have felt that the Christian life was somehow worthwhile and beautiful regardless of its truth.

I can't bring myself to say that anymore. I have to agree with Paul when he writes: " If Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins... If we have hoped in Christ in this life only, we are of all men most to be pitied."

I believe in the resurrection like I believe in oxygen or water or food. I believe it because if I have hoped in Christ for this life only, it is a sad and desperate life indeed. This world can be a awful, nasty, brutish place. Life is horribly unfair and unjust and it makes me weep for the people I love who have suffered so unfairly. I believe in a resurrection that not only ushers in a hope for tomorrow, but an eternal life that begins NOW, that invades the ugliness and horror of humanity in this very moment on earth. Abundant life, joy, and hope are offered to us now in the midst of the pain and darkness. They co-exist--they don't cancel each other out. Not yet.

Last Sunday my pastor highlighted this part of the Easter story which I have often overlooked:
"Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.

They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.

“Woman,” he said, “why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”

Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”

Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!”

It hit me like a brick...."Woman,why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?" She had Jesus on one side, angels on another, and she was still searching. I also love that the moment she did recognize him was at the sound of her own name. "Mary." I wish I could have heard his voice as he said that and watched her face dawn with ecstatic recognition and utter shock.

Here's a John Updike poem that speaks to me powerfully about the resurrection:

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

laughter, hope, kindness

Most of the refugees I work with speak very little English. Communication is often difficult and awkward. The most wonderful moments for me are when they can just laugh. Last week, a refugee family piled in my car, and I tried to get them to put on their seatbelts. Just this small task, which seems so basic at first glance, felt like a monumental challenge. I mimed it, I re-buckled my own seatbelt, I broke it down into the most basic words possible....and eventually, the father of the family picked it up and started to help his daughters. When they all finally realized what I had been trying to say, they just busted up laughing. It took me by surprise so much that I had to just start laugh too. In that situation, it would be so easy to feel embarrassed or dumb, to close up and sit silently, but instead they chose to find humor in the moment....and laughter is a universal language.

Today was another surprising moment of joy in this line of work which can so often be emotionally draining. I had the rare opportunity to be with a refugee who spoke great English. She was a young wife and mother who had spent almost her entire life in a refugee camp. I asked her about life in America, and her eyes lit up. She said she could not believe how wonderful her life was here and what amazing opportunities she had now. She was so happy just to be here. I've heard this from so many refugees, and it always blows me away. Even in America, these people lead lives that most people would consider a far cry from the American dream. They often have to work minimum wage jobs for many years, live in apartments and neighborhoods that I don't think I could live in myself, and struggle just to survive and learn English. They humble me so much and redefine my definition of success.

As I talked with this young woman and she learned I was a volunteer, not an employee, she turned to me and said, "God will bless you for what you do. You have shown a great kindness to people who need you and you will be blessed." I just wanted to cry. She showed me more kindness in those words than anything I could ever do. I told her, "God does bless me, He blesses me through you. You show me strength and courage." When I get scared about my future, these precious people show me what true hope and endurance looks like.

eye on the sparrow

I have not written since Spring Break, and I think it's been because of my subconscious need to savor and use every single moment of these final weeks of school. Most of my fellow seniors are thrilled to graduate, and I've had multiple younger students tell me they're incredibly jealous. I have to admit it: it's hard for me to understand how they feel. I have been incredibly blessed in my college years. I have met the dearest, most incredible friends a person could ever have. I have found a uniquely amazing, beautiful church body that really feels like home. I am fortunate to be studying two of my greatest passions in life, literature and dance, so even most of my academics are enjoyable. I get to volunteer with an organization that does really meaningful, valuable work to help the needy in my city. I have gotten to travel to some of the most breathtaking places on earth. And let's face it...college students may complain about their schedule, but in my opinion, classes and homework allow way more freedom and flexibility than a 9 to 5 job. But my university life is coming to an end, and it scares me to think that all my rhythms of life and all the familiar people and places may soon be gone. I start to feel desperate to cling on to everything that is safe and comfortable. It scares me to have a blank future after graduation day....as of now, I have no job, no plans, and no idea where I'll be living.

Here's the thing, though....God is good, and my future is not blank to Him. A lot of my recent days have been consumed by trying to figure out the right balance/tension between being proactive and being patient about my life. On one of the recent sunny days, as I was feeling anxious about figuring things out, I sat outside in the grass and watched a sparrow fluttering around me for a long time. I was reminded of when Jesus says that not a single sparrow falls to the ground apart from the Father's will. This sounds silly, but I suddenly realized that the little sparrow I was watching could DO absolutely nothing to be "useful" in the sense I often try to be....she could not get a meaningful job, she could not be an amazing friend, she could not communicate the gospel to anyone, she could not help the poor and the needy....yet God watches over her and knows her every wing flutter.

I can't do anything to make Him love me more or care more about me than He already does. I can't save the world; in fact, I have realized over the past week that I can't save even one person, no matter how much I want to do it on my own. And I certainly can't save myself. I can't justify my existence through a good job or good works or a good marriage. All I have to do is rest, trust, and live my life one day at a time, as the sparrow lives hers. That's grace, in all its mysterious and difficult-to-accept beauty. Grace to live and to move and to just simply be.

love your neighbor as yourself

I'm taking a Literary Study of the Bible class this semester, and the past couple of weeks we've been studying the Mosaic Law of the Torah. Rabbis have identified 613 mitzvot (commandments) in those first five books of the Bible. 613!! The sheer burden of it all is staggering, as are the epic failures to obey it by the "heroes" of the faith such as Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Solomon, Moses, and David. I think we often gloss over their faults, but in re-reading all their stories again, I have been struck by the fact that I probably wouldn't even want to be friends with these individuals if they were in my neighborhood. They had some serious, destructive character flaws: pologamy, adultery, murder, favoritism, passivity, arrogance, and cowardice, to name a few.

Then Jesus steps on the scene, and provides the most stark contrast in all of literature. If you read the Bible like a literary text, all of these Old Testament characters have been foils to the protagonist... after this crew of lying, sexually promiscuous, cowardly men, Jesus is incredibly refreshing and shockingly different. He sums up all those 613 mitzvot in just two commandments, "And he said to him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.”

613 down to 2 seems like a seriously lightened load. But I've been thinking a lot recently about love and how intensely difficult it is. The love between two friends, the love for a stranger, love for your neighbor, love for your family, love for the suffering....the kind of love I want to have for other people. This past Sunday, my pastor talked about the absolutely urgent necessity of true, authentic, deep community in the Christian life, about how we were made to love and be loved. If we were created in the image of a triune (not isolated or singular) God, then we were formed to both be loved and to pour out other-centered love. Tim Keller describes the relationship within the Trinity, "Each voluntarily circles the other two, pouring love, delight, and adoration into them. Each person of the Trinity adores, defers to, and rejoices in the others. This creates a dynamic, pulsating dance of joy and love." Because God is triune in nature, love is not an additional quality, but a necessary, innate quality of who He is....as John says simply, "God is love."

Sometimes I am afraid that I rarely...if ever....truly love anyone more than myself. Other-centered love is difficult, and sometimes feels impossible. I am so quick to meet my own needs for approval, acceptance, affirmation, and my desire to be right often trumps my desire to affirm and encourage other people.

Funnily enough, watching the Olympics over the past couple of weeks made me one of the ways I wish I could show love. When I watched those athletes, I feel incredibly joyful and excited on their behalf. I don't feel competitive, I don't feel bitter, I don't wish that was me out on the ice and snow....I just felt thrilled and proud to see someone reach that level of excellence. I want to feel that way when my friends are successful, when they reach a milestone I have not reached, when they look beautiful, when they win an argument, when they are smarter or more witty than I could be, when they get a new job, when they get married, when they show a greater strength of character, when they are right and I am wrong....I want to rejoice in those things for them and find joy in their joy. In essence, I want (against everything that comes naturally to me) to be humble as Christ was humble.

C.S. Lewis' words keep coming back to me as a resounding reminder and challenge this week: "Christian humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less." What would it look like to think of yourself less?

The Joy of Cooking

Mmm, just look at these scrumptious Coffee Cake Muffins. I made these tonight in a recent kick to do more cooking from scratch-- thus far its been quite successful and satisfying. I also cooked a delicious Eggplant Parmesan for lunch today, which was going remarkably well until I smelled burnt paper and realized the corner of my cookbook was stuck and burning under a molten-hot frying pan. I guess all novice cooks are required to have some major kitchen disasters on the path to culinary mastery!

Another great joy of my week involved cooking.....cooking an amazing dinner with a dear girl friend who I haven't spent time with in over a year and a half. The best sort of friends are those which can jump back in right where they left off after months or even years apart, despite all the changes and growth and experience the two of you might have been through since you last met. I am so thankful that God is so gracious and good to grow those roots of friendship deep- across time, distance, huge life changes....and that He is constantly making all things new.
.....................................................................................

p.s. my roommate just alerted me to my new favorite food blog: http://smittenkitchen.com/
Beautiful and mouthwatering, check it out.


sew it begins...


I am proud at announce a new skill: I have been taking sewing lessons the past few weeks, and they have been so much fun! I can now operate a sewing machine (quite a feat, let me tell ya) and make all kinds of crazy stitches. This little heart pillow (seen here with my roommate's cat Babar, who was more than happy to model) was my first project. I hope to go on to making bigger things someday, but it's a start :)

Football and Funny Face


A quick note on the Superbowl: anyone who knows me knows that I don't know the first thing about sports, nor do I really care to most of the time (sorry, sports lovers, I have tried). Yet for some reason I almost always can't resist watching the Superbowl. Regardless of who you were pulling for (sorry, Peyton fans), you have to admit that watching the Saints win was amazing. I felt so inspired and overjoyed for the battered city of New Orleans. I don't know what it is about sports, but they just rally people together like few things can --take for example the recent movie Invictus, about how Nelson Mandela unified the South African people after apartheid through the sport of rugby. And watching Saints QB Drew Brees cry as he held and kissed his little son after winning was enough to make me want to cry myself.

It was also pretty neat to see via Facebook that some Scottish pals were watching the game as well (which is a lot of dedication to American football, since it ended about 3:30 AM their time). One comment concerning my church family in Scotland that made me particularly happy: "Rest assured there were brothers watching in St V's tonight...feeling the American love, stunning show tonight! " You gotta love transatlantic sports comraderie.

On an entirely different note, I'm watching the classic Audrey Hepburn movie Funny Face right now, and a great deal of the movie is set in Paris. I love spotting all these places I've actually been, then pinching myself to remember it was real. The Louvre, the Champs Elysees, the Seine, the Opera, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, Sacre Couer.....it all seems like a dream now, but the movie brings all of the thrill right back to me. Plus, Audrey Hepburn is probably the most lovely, charming woman to ever grace the screen--watching her is always a delight :)

A great musical number just for you: Audrey and Fred Astaire singing (and dancing) "Bonjour, Paris!"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zuhl8gO7Igo

letting the thrill go

One of my biggest problems is a constant excess of nostalgia (you might notice it if you have read this blog for any length of time). I tend to constantly look backward and grasp for past joys rather than savoring the present moment, and I've been doing that a lot the past couple of weeks. A few days ago, I was talking about this feeling of loss to an old friend, who reminded me of this wonderful passage from C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity (which begins as he is talking about marriage).....oh, actually, I just realized that I already posted this one this blog about a year ago, but it still incredibly relevant and I love it, so here you go:

"People get from books the idea that if you have married the right person you may expect to go on ‘being in love’ for ever. As a result, when they find they are not, they think this proves they have made a mistake and are entitled to a change — not realising that, when they have changed, the glamour will presently go out of the new love just as it went out of the old one. In this department of life, as in every other, thrills come at the beginning and do not last. The sort of thrill a boy has at the first idea of flying will not go on when he has joined the R.A.F. and is really learning to fly. The thrill you feel on first seeing some delightful place dies away when you really go to live there. Does this mean it would be better not to learn to fly and not to live in the beautiful place? By no means. In both cases, if you go through with it, the dying away of the first thrill will be compensated for by a quieter and more lasting kind of interest. What is more (and I can hardly find words to tell you how important I think this), it is just the people who are ready to submit to the loss of the thrill and settle down to the sober interest, who are then most likely to meet new thrills in some quite different direction. The man who has learned to fly and become a good pilot will suddenly discover music; the man who has settled down to live in the beauty spot will discover gardening.

This is, I think, one little part of what Christ meant by saying that a thing will not really live unless it first dies. It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go — let it die away — go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow — and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time. But if you decide to make thrills your regular diet and try to prolong them artificially, they will all get weaker and weaker, and fewer and fewer, and you will be a bored, disillusioned old man for the rest of your life. It is because so few people understand this that you find many middle-aged men and women maundering about their lost youth, at the very age when new horizons ought to be appearing and new doors opening all round them. It is much better fun to learn to swim than to go on endlessly (and hopelessly) trying to get back the feeling you had when you first went paddling as a small boy."

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