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Thursday, October 11, 2007
Saturday, September 22, 2007
zucchini
marvelous vegetable, the zucchini. y'know, i never had really eaten it before this past year. this summer has been the summer of the great green squash: it's my new best veggie friend...(c:
i never used to enjoy summer. It's always been, for me, the time when people leave -or when i leave people. for a girl who craves and savors stability, summertimes gained a very bad reputation as the season of shuffling: first, older friends left for college. then i left for college. for years, good-byes in may and new good-byes in august bookended warm months and disallowed any settled pattern or community. first it was just moving 100 miles back and forth from my hometown to my college town (go cyclones!), but then I moved 1000 miles away from home, and summers were far from home and filled with studies, then with a new job...
but last summer was a golden summer: a steady group of folks settled in the same neighborhood, and i began to think warmth was not so bad. community was in place.
beyond the people-factor, silly as it sounds, my love for a season hinges heavily on the aesthetics that season presents. what kind of food can i cook? and (yes, i am this shallow) what kind of clothes can i wear? autumn has always claimed the yearly throne in this area: what can compare with a pot of homemade applesauce bubbling on the stove and a cosy corduroy jacket or warm, deep-colored scarf?
but this year, i discovered summer clothing and summer vegetables.
before, i have been happy to slog out the summer in winter layers (that is, i don't buy any short-sleeve shirt that i can't wear under a winter sweater later on -- nothing bright and sunny-colored; mainly black, white, olive, dark blue, and brown. eek.). on a summer trip to chicago with my family, my mother pointed out that even in a sleeveless black tee and a knee-length dark denim skirt (and flip flops!), i didn't look like i belonged in june. hmph. she had a point.
my roommate, lover of sun and warmth, tried to help me devise a summer outfit one night and ended up delving into her own closet to help me find a top that didn't make my summer skirt look like winter. she just sort of laughed at me in that "oh, dear" kind of way. So i took myself to macy's and, with much phone help from my mother, bought a light-weight eyelet blouse, lightweight shorts, and a pale orange polo shirt (short sleeves! not remotely layer-able!).
and y'know, it's fun to wear bright colors and light fabrics! you actually don't roast in the sunshine anymore. who knew?
my other discovery was summer vegetables. my lovely local farmer's market (and my friend ben, who's the master of garden-based cooking) introduced the wonders of the zucchini, simply sauteed with tomatoes and other sundry summer veg. amazing! for very little oven output, you get a bright-tasting, nutritious, and cheap dinner. i made a variant last night and was happy all evening ... sauteed onions and garlic, cubed a zucchini, and added a gorgeous heirloom tomato. when everything had softened a bit, i tossed it all with whole wheat couscous and was happy as a summer-lovin' clam.
so summer. i'm actually a little sad to see it go! in my memory, this will be the season i learned to love orange shirts, green swimsuits, and red tomatoes... and the zucchini. long live the zucchini.
i never used to enjoy summer. It's always been, for me, the time when people leave -or when i leave people. for a girl who craves and savors stability, summertimes gained a very bad reputation as the season of shuffling: first, older friends left for college. then i left for college. for years, good-byes in may and new good-byes in august bookended warm months and disallowed any settled pattern or community. first it was just moving 100 miles back and forth from my hometown to my college town (go cyclones!), but then I moved 1000 miles away from home, and summers were far from home and filled with studies, then with a new job...
but last summer was a golden summer: a steady group of folks settled in the same neighborhood, and i began to think warmth was not so bad. community was in place.
beyond the people-factor, silly as it sounds, my love for a season hinges heavily on the aesthetics that season presents. what kind of food can i cook? and (yes, i am this shallow) what kind of clothes can i wear? autumn has always claimed the yearly throne in this area: what can compare with a pot of homemade applesauce bubbling on the stove and a cosy corduroy jacket or warm, deep-colored scarf?
but this year, i discovered summer clothing and summer vegetables.
before, i have been happy to slog out the summer in winter layers (that is, i don't buy any short-sleeve shirt that i can't wear under a winter sweater later on -- nothing bright and sunny-colored; mainly black, white, olive, dark blue, and brown. eek.). on a summer trip to chicago with my family, my mother pointed out that even in a sleeveless black tee and a knee-length dark denim skirt (and flip flops!), i didn't look like i belonged in june. hmph. she had a point.
my roommate, lover of sun and warmth, tried to help me devise a summer outfit one night and ended up delving into her own closet to help me find a top that didn't make my summer skirt look like winter. she just sort of laughed at me in that "oh, dear" kind of way. So i took myself to macy's and, with much phone help from my mother, bought a light-weight eyelet blouse, lightweight shorts, and a pale orange polo shirt (short sleeves! not remotely layer-able!).
and y'know, it's fun to wear bright colors and light fabrics! you actually don't roast in the sunshine anymore. who knew?
oh, and the beach! did i mention the beach? i actually shopped for and bought a cute, bright green 2-piece swimsuit and beach towel this year and went to the shore two or three times. previous visits to the beach involved the swimsuit i purchased in eighth grade. i'm now twenty-seven. while it's nice that the suit i bought back then still fit well enough to work (when paired judiciously with a pair of shorts), it was time to retire the speedo one-piece that was hardly fashionable even then. i even managed to get a little tan this summer! for a pasty-white girl of german-irish descent, that is a very major accomplishment.
my other discovery was summer vegetables. my lovely local farmer's market (and my friend ben, who's the master of garden-based cooking) introduced the wonders of the zucchini, simply sauteed with tomatoes and other sundry summer veg. amazing! for very little oven output, you get a bright-tasting, nutritious, and cheap dinner. i made a variant last night and was happy all evening ... sauteed onions and garlic, cubed a zucchini, and added a gorgeous heirloom tomato. when everything had softened a bit, i tossed it all with whole wheat couscous and was happy as a summer-lovin' clam.
so summer. i'm actually a little sad to see it go! in my memory, this will be the season i learned to love orange shirts, green swimsuits, and red tomatoes... and the zucchini. long live the zucchini.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
roots // rooted
a friend of mine from south asia recently put her finger exactly on that part of my anglo/germanic middle-american heritage that has always eluded me. or rather, i have always thought i eluded it.
i don't think i've done this consciously, but over the last seven years, i have systematically stepped out of my cultural upbringing. i dated an asian guy for two years. i moved to the east coast. i spent a year and a half writing my thesis on an italian-american family living in manhattan's lower east side. i even figured out a reason to live in new york for the project. in. new. york. me. in the big city. on my own. and now i live in another big mid-atlantic city! i've even learned to cook everything but my mother's recipes (just let me know when you're coming over: i'll either have sicilian red sauce for the penne or ghanaian chicken in the pot for you (and neither are found in the family cookbook)).
i'm beginning to wince on behalf of my background.
i've been so busy appreciating other places/cultures/backgrounds that i have disrobed my own of its rightful, modest significance. . . and really, in context, i struggle to appreciate any sort of significance to my own background. politically, i tend to run in rather liberal circles, and it's not popular there to be a reasonably well-off middle-class girl who's not only white, but also anglo-saxon and protestant (w.a.s.p.).
i just got back from a business trip to the near midwest, and i found myself in a home-like environment: the land was flat; the accents were homey (round "o" , flat "a" ). in spite of myself, i remembered how fond i am of all the sounds and tastes and sights that are home/heritage for me. it made me incredibly homesick and has made me realize how much i judge people from my own social background: how can they live with much and not do something to help those who have little? but then, how can i presume to know that they're not doing something to help? more importantly, am i doing the thing for which i wrongly judge them?
as i was sharing all this with a globetrotting, midwesterly-rooted friend over dinner last night, he humbly challenged me to consider what i was doing myself to respond to my own frustrations. i was properly put in my place, and have been considering more pro-active ways to express frustrations. with my time and my material resources, i want to be purposeful about putting action behind words. first stop: applying to volunteer with an organization reaching out to kids in rough spots through the arts... check out http://www.buildabridge.org/. hope to be able to help out there in the next couple of months... it's just one step, but it's a step.
and it's a step toward realizing that the problem is not where i'm from, or what my background is ethnically/socially/economically. God has given me all that's in my heritage for reasons He knows and can use. He has also blessed me with beautiful opportunities to know people and places with different cultures - I love it! but He has not given those opportunities and that affection so that I could grow discontent with the life He has planned out for me. How ungrateful, and how whiny I can be!! Seriously, my heart gets quickly ugly with this sort of sin, and is so easily caught up in popular attitudes that I trip over envy and land flat on my face. Instead, may He fill my heart with thankfulness for His sovereign plan and with faithfulness to love Him by loving others!
i don't think i've done this consciously, but over the last seven years, i have systematically stepped out of my cultural upbringing. i dated an asian guy for two years. i moved to the east coast. i spent a year and a half writing my thesis on an italian-american family living in manhattan's lower east side. i even figured out a reason to live in new york for the project. in. new. york. me. in the big city. on my own. and now i live in another big mid-atlantic city! i've even learned to cook everything but my mother's recipes (just let me know when you're coming over: i'll either have sicilian red sauce for the penne or ghanaian chicken in the pot for you (and neither are found in the family cookbook)).
i'm beginning to wince on behalf of my background.
i've been so busy appreciating other places/cultures/backgrounds that i have disrobed my own of its rightful, modest significance. . . and really, in context, i struggle to appreciate any sort of significance to my own background. politically, i tend to run in rather liberal circles, and it's not popular there to be a reasonably well-off middle-class girl who's not only white, but also anglo-saxon and protestant (w.a.s.p.).
i just got back from a business trip to the near midwest, and i found myself in a home-like environment: the land was flat; the accents were homey (round "o" , flat "a" ). in spite of myself, i remembered how fond i am of all the sounds and tastes and sights that are home/heritage for me. it made me incredibly homesick and has made me realize how much i judge people from my own social background: how can they live with much and not do something to help those who have little? but then, how can i presume to know that they're not doing something to help? more importantly, am i doing the thing for which i wrongly judge them?
as i was sharing all this with a globetrotting, midwesterly-rooted friend over dinner last night, he humbly challenged me to consider what i was doing myself to respond to my own frustrations. i was properly put in my place, and have been considering more pro-active ways to express frustrations. with my time and my material resources, i want to be purposeful about putting action behind words. first stop: applying to volunteer with an organization reaching out to kids in rough spots through the arts... check out http://www.buildabridge.org/. hope to be able to help out there in the next couple of months... it's just one step, but it's a step.
and it's a step toward realizing that the problem is not where i'm from, or what my background is ethnically/socially/economically. God has given me all that's in my heritage for reasons He knows and can use. He has also blessed me with beautiful opportunities to know people and places with different cultures - I love it! but He has not given those opportunities and that affection so that I could grow discontent with the life He has planned out for me. How ungrateful, and how whiny I can be!! Seriously, my heart gets quickly ugly with this sort of sin, and is so easily caught up in popular attitudes that I trip over envy and land flat on my face. Instead, may He fill my heart with thankfulness for His sovereign plan and with faithfulness to love Him by loving others!
the best for last (and the first was best)
The best wedding of the season, by far, was my little brother Kyle, who married his love, Amy, on April 21.
I couldn't be happier that he chose her to join our family - what a blessing she is! She complements him perfectly, and their wedding was a really eloquent expression of who they are together.
Beyond the fact that the groom was my much-loved brother, this was the most beautiful wedding I've seen. Aesthetically, it was lovely: a mid-nineteenth century church - complete with picturesque churchyard - elegant flowers, lovely colors, gorgeous gown -- even a picture-perfect spring afternoon! But it was the meaning and symbolism behind each part of the ceremony that was very, very special.
My brother and his (now) wife love Jesus more than anything. They opened their wedding by singing His praise, and they centered their vows on His instructions for their love to one another. They paused to wash each other's feet in the middle of the ceremony, offering a vivid illustration of Christ's service to His followers, and of their desire each to serve the other in the same way. One set of readings, from Song of Songs, was read in response by Rob and Sonia, husband and wife who are both dear friends of Kyle and Amy, and it was surprisingly fresh to hear each part read by a lover and his beloved.
I was honored to stand up with them as a bridesmaid, and from where I stood I had a straight line of sight to where my parents sat in the front left pew. We none of us kept back tears at our deep, deep happiness for Kyle. Goodness, I'm tearing up just writing this! I very much doubt that I can express how special this day was. I'll let some pictures serve as my best attempt...
I couldn't be happier that he chose her to join our family - what a blessing she is! She complements him perfectly, and their wedding was a really eloquent expression of who they are together.
Beyond the fact that the groom was my much-loved brother, this was the most beautiful wedding I've seen. Aesthetically, it was lovely: a mid-nineteenth century church - complete with picturesque churchyard - elegant flowers, lovely colors, gorgeous gown -- even a picture-perfect spring afternoon! But it was the meaning and symbolism behind each part of the ceremony that was very, very special.
My brother and his (now) wife love Jesus more than anything. They opened their wedding by singing His praise, and they centered their vows on His instructions for their love to one another. They paused to wash each other's feet in the middle of the ceremony, offering a vivid illustration of Christ's service to His followers, and of their desire each to serve the other in the same way. One set of readings, from Song of Songs, was read in response by Rob and Sonia, husband and wife who are both dear friends of Kyle and Amy, and it was surprisingly fresh to hear each part read by a lover and his beloved.
I was honored to stand up with them as a bridesmaid, and from where I stood I had a straight line of sight to where my parents sat in the front left pew. We none of us kept back tears at our deep, deep happiness for Kyle. Goodness, I'm tearing up just writing this! I very much doubt that I can express how special this day was. I'll let some pictures serve as my best attempt...
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
fire in the belly
Taking a brief break from wedding posts (one more to come)...
I am so incredibly energized by people who live and move and even breathe with passion. There is something really precious to me about conversations with a person whose whole being pulses with what he/she is saying. After small group last night, I got to chat with a friend, Sarah, who I've just recently met. She's in the middle of a Ph.D. in education, and is deeply moved by / moving towards real reform in urban public education. Seeing kids learn and understand on their own lights her eyes, and it was easy to see that the only thing giving her patience right now, since she can't be in the classroom, is studying to make that classroom better once she gets back to it.
Hearing her story, the things that led her to be where she is now, was one of those conversations where, as my dad used to say, "if that don't light your fire, your wood must be wet!" It reminded me of how many folks in my life right now are like that, and how much i appreciate them... and how earnestly I want to be that sort of person, myself.
I am so incredibly energized by people who live and move and even breathe with passion. There is something really precious to me about conversations with a person whose whole being pulses with what he/she is saying. After small group last night, I got to chat with a friend, Sarah, who I've just recently met. She's in the middle of a Ph.D. in education, and is deeply moved by / moving towards real reform in urban public education. Seeing kids learn and understand on their own lights her eyes, and it was easy to see that the only thing giving her patience right now, since she can't be in the classroom, is studying to make that classroom better once she gets back to it.
Hearing her story, the things that led her to be where she is now, was one of those conversations where, as my dad used to say, "if that don't light your fire, your wood must be wet!" It reminded me of how many folks in my life right now are like that, and how much i appreciate them... and how earnestly I want to be that sort of person, myself.
Friday, September 07, 2007
mawage, part deux
Ahh, weddings. The last flurry of them came during my last two years of college - it seemed everyone around me was pairing up, and I think I was invited to a dozen or so over the course of 24 months (I confess, I didn't go to all of them). That was the Midwest where, it seems to me, people have a tendency to marry younger - the majority of those earlier weddings were folks still in college. And out on the East Coast... i dunno - it seems like more folks wait longer. Anyone care to confirm or deny my amateur theory?
so now that I'm well clear of college, round two of wedding frenzy has come. Working in reverse order, the wedding that came right before Nate and Laura's (see previous post) was Matt and Jamie's...
I was a bridesmaid in this one, so the planning and pre-wedding excitement started way back in January, when we went bridesmaid dress-shopping...
There I am, holding it up after two other 'maids and I had tried on numerous shiny, blue-ish, strapless sorts of outfits. in january, it's always a bit of a shock to see one's shoulders go bare!!
Then came the shower, planned by me and fellow 'maid Joy. Neither of us had planned a shower before, but oh my goodness, did we
have fun! put two creative, craft- and kitchen-happy girls on party detail, and, if i do say so myself, you get a pretty good party! We made some bergamot-sugar body scrub for favors (oh-so-nice for a little pampering!) and cooked up a storm, along with our friend Belinda, who graciously opened up her home and lent her fabulous party-planning skills to the 
event! We had a great time with minimal cheesy shower games (honestly! who invented the toilet-paper bride game?? and does anyone really, truly enjoy playing it? not me. I once snuck out of a shower early just because they brought out the toilet paper). But we had no toilet paper, only a "chubby-bunny-bride" game, where we (having quizzed the groom beforehand) asked the bride questions like "what was matt's first car?" "how old was he whe
n he got his first deer?" and "what was his favorite stuffed animal when he was 5?" Now, some she knew (go, Jamie!), but for everyone she didn't get, she had to stuff a piece of Bazooka bubble gum in her mouth. You can imagine how quickly "chubby-bunny" status was achieved! But everyone had a good time, including the bride, and we all learned more about the groom!Then came the bachelorette party (see previous post), and then the wedding. What a great wedding! Here's some photos...
And then came a very fun party... There was cake, and dancing, and all sorts of fun stuff. Only - the Macarena - did you know it was still alive and kicking?? I thought it died a painful death back in 1999. But no, apparently its after-life is in the repertoire of wedding DJs. I was disappointed to learn this. But I guess it's a classic now, along with the conga line (which in my opinion is sooo much more fun to watch than to join! Here are my friends Steve (glasses) and Ben (red shirt) heading up the train.... Oh, and then the swing. I know it's not so much "in" anymore, but I don't care - I dearly love to swing dance, and so does my friend Ben, so we had an **awesome** time of it! Then afterward, before everyone took off, our gang lined up for a photo. It was an amazing weekend. Happy Wedding, Matt and Jamie!!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Confidential to Robbie B.
*Bring your plow over tonight. I've caught three more "mousies" since last we spoke, and I think there's still one more...*
(ahem... just so the internet is aware, neither I, nor my roommate, are slovenly people. My mother, the queen of un-slovenliness, even agrees with me. We just live in a portion of the urban jungle where, apparently, the mice are choosing not to notice the "occupied" flashing neon sign outside!! The battles rage - we will defend the third-floor homestead!!)
(ahem... just so the internet is aware, neither I, nor my roommate, are slovenly people. My mother, the queen of un-slovenliness, even agrees with me. We just live in a portion of the urban jungle where, apparently, the mice are choosing not to notice the "occupied" flashing neon sign outside!! The battles rage - we will defend the third-floor homestead!!)
Monday, August 27, 2007
mawage is wot bwings us togethow to-day.
surely anyone reading this knows the source of the title, but just in case... go
okay, but mawage.. marriage - it has been bringing some folks together lately in my world. some of my dearest friends have been tying the knot. In reverse chronological order (drum roll, please)...
Nate and Laura!
The groom has been a good friend of mine since the end of grad school, I guess, and at times has felt like an extra brother. His bride is a beautiful, gentle, wise, warm ... perfect! ... complement for him. They were married in an outdoor ceremony under the sunshine, and the whole day spoke beautifully of their love for each other, their love for Christ, and the love of the Father for His children. 
it was really great fun to be at their wedding with the whole gang. (this is not quite the whole gang in the photo, but a goodly portion thereof...)
We were starting to feel a little de ja vu, though, because exactly one week before, we had all been around for (second drum roll, please...)
Matt and Jamie's wedding!!
(but first we must back up to Jamie's bachelorette party...)
The bride is the one between the V and the E... I'm perched up in the L. There were four bridesmaids (2 sisters and 2 friends), and the 2 friends got to plan the party. 
We went out for Thai food with two other girlfriends and then for bubble tea. The tiny tapioca balls in the bottom are perfect for...
TARGET PRACTICE! 
we had lots of fun with this (i have to give credit to the other bridesmaid, miss Joy, (who also took these photos), for the pea-shooter idea. actually, the bride herself had been known to take aim when bored with her bubble tea, so it seemed an appropriate activity for her last night out with the girls. (c; that's me standing in the background, evaluating the shots. We live in a college-y part of town, and so after getting the tea right next to the university, we wandered on to campus to find a spot where we could play bachelorette's bull's-eye.
so after the party came the PARTY - the wedding! and the more i think about that, the more it deserves its own post. and there's another wedding after that...
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Oh, Mr. Burns, I do apologize...
(pardon the caps lock... it just seemed to fit the mood at the outset of the post...)
i’VE BEEN INVOLVED, FOR THE LAST TWO HOURS, IN A LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH MY COMPUTER SCREEN. ACTUALLY, I’M RELOCATING THE LOVE/HATE FEELINGS THAT ARE ACTUALLY DIRECTED TOWARD THE PAPER I AM TRYING TO WRITE THAT SIMPLY ISN’T SHOWING UP ON MY COMPUTER SCREEN. BECAUSE I’M NOT ACTUALLY WRITING IT. THE WORDS ARE NOT COMING OUT OF MY FINGERS. BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT IN MY HEAD.
WHY ARE THE WORDS NOT IN MY HEAD??
I’VE BEEN WORKING ON A CONFERENCE FOR WORK, AND I LOVE GETTING THE EXPERIENCE OF WORKING WITH LOCAL INSTITUTIONS, GATHERING SPEAKERS, FIGURING OUT LOGISTICS, ETC. ALONG WITH ALL THAT, MY BOSSES GRACIOUSLY INVITED ME TO PRESENT A PAPER. ME. PRESENT. A SCHOLARLY PIECE OF RESEARCH TO ESTEEMED COLLEAGUES WHO HAVE BEEN STUDYING THIS MATERIAL FOR MORE YEARS THAN MY LAST BIRTHDAY CAKE HAD CANDLES. HECK, SOME OF THEM HAVE WRITTEN MORE PAPERS THAN THE AFOREMENTIONED NUMBER OF CANDLES.
AND YET HERE I SIT, TRYING TO COME UP WITH A PAPER THAT WILL SEEM NEW, EXCITING, INNOVATIVE – AT THIS POINT, I’LL SETTLE FOR ANYTHING VAGUELY COMPETENT – TO MY FIRST REAL ACADEMIC AUDIENCE. I’VE PRESENTED A PAPER BEFORE, BUT IT WAS TO A GRADUATE STUDENT CONFERENCE – PEOPLE ARE KIND. THE EVENT WAS EVEN CALLED “EMERGING SCHOLARS SYMPOSIUM.” E-M-E-R-G-I-N-G. BY NOW, IT’S EXPECTED THAT ONE HAS FULLY EMERGED. I’M NOT ANY TOO SURE THAT I HAVE!!
I THINK IT WILL ALL COME TOGETHER, AND I THINK I WON’T LOOK HORRIBLE, AND I THINK I WILL NOT BRING SHAME TO MY FIRM. BUT HERE’S THE THING: I DON’T WANT TO SQUEAK BY, BARELY ESCAPING THE SHAME-CAUSING. I WANT TO DO THIS VERY WELL. I WANT TO LEAVE MEDIOCRITY IN MY DUST. I DON’T NEED TO BE THE HIT OF THE CONFERENCE – I DO HAVE A SHRED OF REALISM LEFT – BUT I WANT TO MAKE A GOOD, SOLID DEBUT – LIKE CATCHING THE BRONZE MEDAL AT THE OLYMPICS WHEN I’VE ONLY JUST QUALIFIED FOR THE NATIONAL TEAM. I WANT TO WRITE A PAPER THAT IS A SLEEPER HIT – LIKE ONE OF THOSE LITTLE, LOW-BUDGET INDIE FILMS THAT SUDDENLY COMES INTO THE TOP FIVE AT THE BOX OFFICE ONE WEEKEND AROUND THE FOURTH OF JULY AND MAKES EVERYONE SIT UP AND TAKE NOTICE.
BUT TONIGHT I DO NOT HAVE A SLEEPER HIT. I DO NOT EVEN HAVE COMPETENCE. I HAVE MICE.
YES, MICE – PLURAL. I HAVE SEEN THREE TONIGHT IN MY APARTMENT. There is one stuck on the trap under the tv stand, one very small one that’s been running around under the dining table, and one that’s been running around (ick) in the kitchen. We currently have eight traps set and one box of poison laid out. In the last eight months, we have caught six mice – seven, if you count the little one that bit the dust tonight.
In the small apartment that my roommate and i share, the living room (which is also the dining room) is directly adjacent to the kitchen; in fact, from where i lounge right now on the loveseat, i have a direct line of sight to the pantry shelves (we have just enough cupboard space to keep the eating and baking dishes; the dry goods sit on two snazzy wire shelving units from Ikea (think Metro Shelves at Scandinavian DIY prices). I have, then, had a front-row seat for all the mousie action tonight.
All of the mousie action that has taken place, I should emphasize, while I’ve been trying to write a more-than-mediocre-emphatically-competent-sleeper-hit-of-the-summer presentation. Now I ask you, how can inspiration strike in the presence of so much rodentia?
I keep thinking of the poem by dear Robbie Burns…with apologies to the dear Scottish bard, I offer a counterpoint to selected stanzas of his
“To A Mouse..." (the link also translates the Scottish words)
(please do read the real thing - the following notwithstanding, it truly is one of my favorite poems).
“Wee sleekit cowrin’ tim’rous beastie
O, what a panic’s in tha breastie!
[ha! Mr. Burns, may I introduce to you the fearless Philly mouse? neither d-con, nor snap traps, nor glue traps galore can keep these urban rodents from their appointed rounds of my apartment. No panic evident here].
tha need na start awa sa hasty
w’ bickerin brattle!
I wid be laith to rin an chase thee
w’ murd’rous pattle!
[but i’m not a bit laith to let my traps catch you as you run past! nor am i above bringing in a cat…]
i doubt na’ whiles, but thou may thieve.
what then, poor beastie, thou maun live!
[no, no, no – they maun not live, robbie! they maun not!!]
a daimen-icker in a thrave’s a sma request
[but it’s my daimen-icker! and i don’t like you chewing through the box to get to it, mousie!]
i’ll get a blessin’ with the lave, and ne’er miss’t.
[oh, but i will…]
thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin
[good!!]
it’s crazy, wha’s the winds are strewin.’
[the high temperature today was 85 degrees. OUTSIDE. and yet, the mice want to live in a non-air-conditioned city apartment. That’s what’s crazy!]
An’ naethin’ left to big a new ane
of foggage green
[or whatever you want from my pantry, mr. mouse, take your pick! it’s how you do…]
An bleak December's winds ensuin'
baith snell and keen.
[…stanzas excerpted…]
but mousie, thou’rt no thy lane
in proving foresight may be vain
[Me, yesterday: Thursday night is my paper-writing night!”]
the best-laid plans of mice and men
gang aft a-gley
[Me, tonight: Grrrrr, mouse. Grrrr, paper].
an lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain
for promised joy.
Still, thou’rt blessed compared wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee.
[Until thee toucheth a trap, wee mousie]
But och! I backward cast my eye
at prospects drear.
[the ghosts of papers past]
An’ forward, though I canna see
[the ghosts of future presentations]
I guess and fear.
[Unoriginal scholarship, PowerPoint errata, A/V snafu…and... more mice.]
PS: as i was finishing this post, caught another one. gah. it's on, mr. mouse. i know you've got friends. it's on.
i’VE BEEN INVOLVED, FOR THE LAST TWO HOURS, IN A LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH MY COMPUTER SCREEN. ACTUALLY, I’M RELOCATING THE LOVE/HATE FEELINGS THAT ARE ACTUALLY DIRECTED TOWARD THE PAPER I AM TRYING TO WRITE THAT SIMPLY ISN’T SHOWING UP ON MY COMPUTER SCREEN. BECAUSE I’M NOT ACTUALLY WRITING IT. THE WORDS ARE NOT COMING OUT OF MY FINGERS. BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT IN MY HEAD.
WHY ARE THE WORDS NOT IN MY HEAD??
I’VE BEEN WORKING ON A CONFERENCE FOR WORK, AND I LOVE GETTING THE EXPERIENCE OF WORKING WITH LOCAL INSTITUTIONS, GATHERING SPEAKERS, FIGURING OUT LOGISTICS, ETC. ALONG WITH ALL THAT, MY BOSSES GRACIOUSLY INVITED ME TO PRESENT A PAPER. ME. PRESENT. A SCHOLARLY PIECE OF RESEARCH TO ESTEEMED COLLEAGUES WHO HAVE BEEN STUDYING THIS MATERIAL FOR MORE YEARS THAN MY LAST BIRTHDAY CAKE HAD CANDLES. HECK, SOME OF THEM HAVE WRITTEN MORE PAPERS THAN THE AFOREMENTIONED NUMBER OF CANDLES.
AND YET HERE I SIT, TRYING TO COME UP WITH A PAPER THAT WILL SEEM NEW, EXCITING, INNOVATIVE – AT THIS POINT, I’LL SETTLE FOR ANYTHING VAGUELY COMPETENT – TO MY FIRST REAL ACADEMIC AUDIENCE. I’VE PRESENTED A PAPER BEFORE, BUT IT WAS TO A GRADUATE STUDENT CONFERENCE – PEOPLE ARE KIND. THE EVENT WAS EVEN CALLED “EMERGING SCHOLARS SYMPOSIUM.” E-M-E-R-G-I-N-G. BY NOW, IT’S EXPECTED THAT ONE HAS FULLY EMERGED. I’M NOT ANY TOO SURE THAT I HAVE!!
I THINK IT WILL ALL COME TOGETHER, AND I THINK I WON’T LOOK HORRIBLE, AND I THINK I WILL NOT BRING SHAME TO MY FIRM. BUT HERE’S THE THING: I DON’T WANT TO SQUEAK BY, BARELY ESCAPING THE SHAME-CAUSING. I WANT TO DO THIS VERY WELL. I WANT TO LEAVE MEDIOCRITY IN MY DUST. I DON’T NEED TO BE THE HIT OF THE CONFERENCE – I DO HAVE A SHRED OF REALISM LEFT – BUT I WANT TO MAKE A GOOD, SOLID DEBUT – LIKE CATCHING THE BRONZE MEDAL AT THE OLYMPICS WHEN I’VE ONLY JUST QUALIFIED FOR THE NATIONAL TEAM. I WANT TO WRITE A PAPER THAT IS A SLEEPER HIT – LIKE ONE OF THOSE LITTLE, LOW-BUDGET INDIE FILMS THAT SUDDENLY COMES INTO THE TOP FIVE AT THE BOX OFFICE ONE WEEKEND AROUND THE FOURTH OF JULY AND MAKES EVERYONE SIT UP AND TAKE NOTICE.
BUT TONIGHT I DO NOT HAVE A SLEEPER HIT. I DO NOT EVEN HAVE COMPETENCE. I HAVE MICE.
YES, MICE – PLURAL. I HAVE SEEN THREE TONIGHT IN MY APARTMENT. There is one stuck on the trap under the tv stand, one very small one that’s been running around under the dining table, and one that’s been running around (ick) in the kitchen. We currently have eight traps set and one box of poison laid out. In the last eight months, we have caught six mice – seven, if you count the little one that bit the dust tonight.
In the small apartment that my roommate and i share, the living room (which is also the dining room) is directly adjacent to the kitchen; in fact, from where i lounge right now on the loveseat, i have a direct line of sight to the pantry shelves (we have just enough cupboard space to keep the eating and baking dishes; the dry goods sit on two snazzy wire shelving units from Ikea (think Metro Shelves at Scandinavian DIY prices). I have, then, had a front-row seat for all the mousie action tonight.
All of the mousie action that has taken place, I should emphasize, while I’ve been trying to write a more-than-mediocre-emphatically-competent-sleeper-hit-of-the-summer presentation. Now I ask you, how can inspiration strike in the presence of so much rodentia?
I keep thinking of the poem by dear Robbie Burns…with apologies to the dear Scottish bard, I offer a counterpoint to selected stanzas of his
“To A Mouse..." (the link also translates the Scottish words)
(please do read the real thing - the following notwithstanding, it truly is one of my favorite poems).
“Wee sleekit cowrin’ tim’rous beastie
O, what a panic’s in tha breastie!
[ha! Mr. Burns, may I introduce to you the fearless Philly mouse? neither d-con, nor snap traps, nor glue traps galore can keep these urban rodents from their appointed rounds of my apartment. No panic evident here].
tha need na start awa sa hasty
w’ bickerin brattle!
I wid be laith to rin an chase thee
w’ murd’rous pattle!
[but i’m not a bit laith to let my traps catch you as you run past! nor am i above bringing in a cat…]
i doubt na’ whiles, but thou may thieve.
what then, poor beastie, thou maun live!
[no, no, no – they maun not live, robbie! they maun not!!]
a daimen-icker in a thrave’s a sma request
[but it’s my daimen-icker! and i don’t like you chewing through the box to get to it, mousie!]
i’ll get a blessin’ with the lave, and ne’er miss’t.
[oh, but i will…]
thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin
[good!!]
it’s crazy, wha’s the winds are strewin.’
[the high temperature today was 85 degrees. OUTSIDE. and yet, the mice want to live in a non-air-conditioned city apartment. That’s what’s crazy!]
An’ naethin’ left to big a new ane
of foggage green
[or whatever you want from my pantry, mr. mouse, take your pick! it’s how you do…]
An bleak December's winds ensuin'
baith snell and keen.
[…stanzas excerpted…]
but mousie, thou’rt no thy lane
in proving foresight may be vain
[Me, yesterday: Thursday night is my paper-writing night!”]
the best-laid plans of mice and men
gang aft a-gley
[Me, tonight: Grrrrr, mouse. Grrrr, paper].
an lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain
for promised joy.
Still, thou’rt blessed compared wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee.
[Until thee toucheth a trap, wee mousie]
But och! I backward cast my eye
at prospects drear.
[the ghosts of papers past]
An’ forward, though I canna see
[the ghosts of future presentations]
I guess and fear.
[Unoriginal scholarship, PowerPoint errata, A/V snafu…and... more mice.]
PS: as i was finishing this post, caught another one. gah. it's on, mr. mouse. i know you've got friends. it's on.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
The Symphony Comes to West Philly; or, The Grand Sociological Experiment
Soooo... the Philadelphia Orchestra played the bowl at Clark Park last weekend. Throughout the summer, local bigwig corporations sponsor these free neighborhood concerts, which never fail to bring out hordes of neighbors with old blankets, lawnchairs, and pic-a-nic baskets. My neighborhood is no different... but it is so very unique.
before the grand event, i trotted over to my friends ben, ben (yes, two different bens), and meagan's to make goodies for the picnic. we had standard sandwiches, but also veggie/feta pitas and trader joe's finest... dark chocolate covered raisins (soooooo tasty!). with an old table cloth and a worn bedsheet, we made our 10-minute way to the park. g o r g e o u s weather out... couldn't have asked for better.
we got there, set up camp on a slope (Clark Park features a large, natural bowl, perfect for outdoor performances of many sorts. i think it used to be a pond, way back when). then things got interesting....
we quickly noticed we were in a pack of smokers. not a biggie, but a l,ittle unusual in the nearly smoke-free city that philly is becoming. then we realized that the guy behind us was burning incense. and we wondered what sort of scent this might be intended to cover. hmmm...
looking around, of course, we counted not a few folks devouring harry's latest adventures while the band played on (who can blame them?? i'll be joining their ranks soon - am forcing myself through book 6 again before indulging). there was a band of punk/anarchists who started heckling the bank sponsor representative as soon as he was introduced. poor fella - i'm not a fan of big corporate America, either, but they were actually doing a good thing by sponsoring accessibility to the arts. lots and lots of dogs wandered through (when there's not an orchestra playing, that particular part of the park is the dog run - careful where you sit.) but i gotta attempt to describe more of the human demographic, though, as that was the truly interesting bit...
it was a beautiful cross-section of the folks who inhabit our neck of the woods. i've already mentioned the anarchists... they're commonly identified visually by black-based clothing, multiple (and creative) tattoos, and patch-covered bike messenger bags, often in black-and-some-other-color designs. there were the neo-hippies... girls wearing funky european shoes and loose sundresses, funky plastic-rimmed glasses and slightly-askew hairstyles, guys who wear skinny thrift-store jean cutoffs and chuck taylors with a faded plaid button-down. there are original hippies, too -- see above for incense guy. there are international families, often living in philly for a few years while one or both spouses complete doctoral degrees at the university of pennsylvania. some of these families are Muslim, and the women are covered to varying degrees with either vibrantly colored hijab and abaya or solid black versions of both. then there are young families, where one or both spouses graduated drexel engineering programs or wharton business school and just never left the area. they push hip strollers and feed their kids organic baby carrots while they drink a nice bottle of red wine with their stone-ground wheat crackers and sheep's milk manchego.
then there's the random assortment of single college graduates, most of whom have banded together in pairs or trios to occupy the rental properties that fill the area... most of us are transitioning from college student to husband/wife/father/mother - or, at least, we hope we are. we look a like a little bit of everyone above. my crowd was eating the food of the yuppies, dressing a little like the hippies, and scrapping together picnic supplies as though we had just arrived in the city. it was marvelous.
before the grand event, i trotted over to my friends ben, ben (yes, two different bens), and meagan's to make goodies for the picnic. we had standard sandwiches, but also veggie/feta pitas and trader joe's finest... dark chocolate covered raisins (soooooo tasty!). with an old table cloth and a worn bedsheet, we made our 10-minute way to the park. g o r g e o u s weather out... couldn't have asked for better.
we got there, set up camp on a slope (Clark Park features a large, natural bowl, perfect for outdoor performances of many sorts. i think it used to be a pond, way back when). then things got interesting....
we quickly noticed we were in a pack of smokers. not a biggie, but a l,ittle unusual in the nearly smoke-free city that philly is becoming. then we realized that the guy behind us was burning incense. and we wondered what sort of scent this might be intended to cover. hmmm...
looking around, of course, we counted not a few folks devouring harry's latest adventures while the band played on (who can blame them?? i'll be joining their ranks soon - am forcing myself through book 6 again before indulging). there was a band of punk/anarchists who started heckling the bank sponsor representative as soon as he was introduced. poor fella - i'm not a fan of big corporate America, either, but they were actually doing a good thing by sponsoring accessibility to the arts. lots and lots of dogs wandered through (when there's not an orchestra playing, that particular part of the park is the dog run - careful where you sit.) but i gotta attempt to describe more of the human demographic, though, as that was the truly interesting bit...
it was a beautiful cross-section of the folks who inhabit our neck of the woods. i've already mentioned the anarchists... they're commonly identified visually by black-based clothing, multiple (and creative) tattoos, and patch-covered bike messenger bags, often in black-and-some-other-color designs. there were the neo-hippies... girls wearing funky european shoes and loose sundresses, funky plastic-rimmed glasses and slightly-askew hairstyles, guys who wear skinny thrift-store jean cutoffs and chuck taylors with a faded plaid button-down. there are original hippies, too -- see above for incense guy. there are international families, often living in philly for a few years while one or both spouses complete doctoral degrees at the university of pennsylvania. some of these families are Muslim, and the women are covered to varying degrees with either vibrantly colored hijab and abaya or solid black versions of both. then there are young families, where one or both spouses graduated drexel engineering programs or wharton business school and just never left the area. they push hip strollers and feed their kids organic baby carrots while they drink a nice bottle of red wine with their stone-ground wheat crackers and sheep's milk manchego.
then there's the random assortment of single college graduates, most of whom have banded together in pairs or trios to occupy the rental properties that fill the area... most of us are transitioning from college student to husband/wife/father/mother - or, at least, we hope we are. we look a like a little bit of everyone above. my crowd was eating the food of the yuppies, dressing a little like the hippies, and scrapping together picnic supplies as though we had just arrived in the city. it was marvelous.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
simple pleasures
Tonight i went out for food. i was spending an evening alone and have been putting off grocery shopping (so no food to speak of in the house) and was craving a burrito... so off i went to qdoba (mmm...). parked the car (wasn't feeling well so didn't walk) and walked the half-block to get my dinner.
but!
on the way, i turned into the open, well-lit doorway of a shop stacked STACKED with books. i never even noticed it before, to my shame, but i have in my neighborhood one of those really wonderful used-book-stores that is well-organized and yet nearly-overstuffed with previously owned, reasonably priced BOOKS. this is a treasure - i had just been bemoaning the combined facts that a) i'm running out of books to read on my own shelf; b) new books are prohibitively expensive to buy on a regular basis; and c) my wallet is unfortunately thin. then, eureka! used books in every possible category for which one could hope.
and...
there's a lovely black cat with a white face-blaze and three white feet who will rub against your legs while you walk through the "true crime" section and will happily purr while you rub his chin. i'm not sure why he showed up in the 'true crime' section and i wondered, as i enjoyed his attention, what sort of odd cat-loving-conspiracy-theorist-type i might seem to be if anyone walked past to see me crouched over a big, purring cat in front of the true-and-unvarnished stories of murder-in-a-small-town-or-some-such .... but aside from that, heaven!
i'm very pleased with this new discovery. it was one of those things that is remarkably soothing on a night that, for no particular reason, was not outstandingly ... well, outstanding. thank you, God, for simple pleasures, and in my own part of the world, too!
but!
on the way, i turned into the open, well-lit doorway of a shop stacked STACKED with books. i never even noticed it before, to my shame, but i have in my neighborhood one of those really wonderful used-book-stores that is well-organized and yet nearly-overstuffed with previously owned, reasonably priced BOOKS. this is a treasure - i had just been bemoaning the combined facts that a) i'm running out of books to read on my own shelf; b) new books are prohibitively expensive to buy on a regular basis; and c) my wallet is unfortunately thin. then, eureka! used books in every possible category for which one could hope.
and...
there's a lovely black cat with a white face-blaze and three white feet who will rub against your legs while you walk through the "true crime" section and will happily purr while you rub his chin. i'm not sure why he showed up in the 'true crime' section and i wondered, as i enjoyed his attention, what sort of odd cat-loving-conspiracy-theorist-type i might seem to be if anyone walked past to see me crouched over a big, purring cat in front of the true-and-unvarnished stories of murder-in-a-small-town-or-some-such .... but aside from that, heaven!
i'm very pleased with this new discovery. it was one of those things that is remarkably soothing on a night that, for no particular reason, was not outstandingly ... well, outstanding. thank you, God, for simple pleasures, and in my own part of the world, too!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
and how
[i know i'm not a great blogger - i post when the mood strikes. in an effort, though, to post more regularly, i've been thinking about post topics... as i rode the train/trolley/bus yesterday, i was staring out the window and thinking about posts, and was distracted by everything i saw. this will be a little repetitive, i think from the themes of other posts, but this is what's on my mind, so here y'go...]
when i walk around, i keep looking around. i look around the city and i see broken systems - people who are angry - and i would be angry, too. the society in which we (me and them) live has given me more opportunity from birth than it has given them. i am white and middle-class. i see people in my neighborhood who have been born into single-parent families in a poverty-stricken, violence-ridden urban community. and their skin color, as much as i want to deny it blindly, has made it harder for them to find the same opportunities that i have found.
i have struggled, since leaving iowa, to reconcile my cultural majority status with the difficulties facing cultural minorities that i encounter here. i feel guilty about it, to be honest. it's almost like a survivor's guilt: why did i get to go to the good public school, to win the scholarship, to earn the degree, to land the fellowship, to get the job that pays me enough to support myself? that was an apparent accident of birth: God's sovereign choice that i can't understand. there are kids who ride my bus every morning who hop off at the corner for a school with more than 50% dropout rate. more than once, the police have been called to that high school this year to put out trash can fires and/or arrest disruptive students (for assault). teachers are beat up and burned out, and these kids are trapped in a system that can't help them.
out my living room window, there's a brick apartment building. most of the tenants are young men from west africa - immigrants from countries whose peace has been torn, top to bottom, like the sackcloth garments of those who mourn. why has that happened in their towns and not in mine? why have i not had to leave my home, my family?
it's springtime now, in philadelphia - evenings are warm, and the ice cream truck has started its usual circuit. is the ice cream truck in your neighborhood still circling at eleven at night? in mine, it is. you think they're still selling bomb-pops to eleven-year-olds? really? how have i been protected from things that hold so many in the vise-grip of addiction?
i am an adult white female, supporting myself through my own work, living comfortably in my own apartment, driving my own car. my family is safe and healthy; i don't worry for the lives of my friends. i am indescribably blessed! but how, how, do i reconcile these blessings in my life with the brokenness all around me?
when i walk around, i keep looking around. i look around the city and i see broken systems - people who are angry - and i would be angry, too. the society in which we (me and them) live has given me more opportunity from birth than it has given them. i am white and middle-class. i see people in my neighborhood who have been born into single-parent families in a poverty-stricken, violence-ridden urban community. and their skin color, as much as i want to deny it blindly, has made it harder for them to find the same opportunities that i have found.
i have struggled, since leaving iowa, to reconcile my cultural majority status with the difficulties facing cultural minorities that i encounter here. i feel guilty about it, to be honest. it's almost like a survivor's guilt: why did i get to go to the good public school, to win the scholarship, to earn the degree, to land the fellowship, to get the job that pays me enough to support myself? that was an apparent accident of birth: God's sovereign choice that i can't understand. there are kids who ride my bus every morning who hop off at the corner for a school with more than 50% dropout rate. more than once, the police have been called to that high school this year to put out trash can fires and/or arrest disruptive students (for assault). teachers are beat up and burned out, and these kids are trapped in a system that can't help them.
out my living room window, there's a brick apartment building. most of the tenants are young men from west africa - immigrants from countries whose peace has been torn, top to bottom, like the sackcloth garments of those who mourn. why has that happened in their towns and not in mine? why have i not had to leave my home, my family?
it's springtime now, in philadelphia - evenings are warm, and the ice cream truck has started its usual circuit. is the ice cream truck in your neighborhood still circling at eleven at night? in mine, it is. you think they're still selling bomb-pops to eleven-year-olds? really? how have i been protected from things that hold so many in the vise-grip of addiction?
i am an adult white female, supporting myself through my own work, living comfortably in my own apartment, driving my own car. my family is safe and healthy; i don't worry for the lives of my friends. i am indescribably blessed! but how, how, do i reconcile these blessings in my life with the brokenness all around me?
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
'b[urban]
i was walking home today, through my urban neighborhood of tightly-packed twins and rowhouses, and found a bona-fide garden - in a bona-fide backyard! the large house that fronted it must have been a hold-over from when my part of the city was a brand-new, upper-upper middle class streetcar suburb to center city philly - but there it was: a backyard. with flowers, even!
last weekend, my roommate and i went to a friend's house for dinner (two midwestern fellas had offered to cook us, natives of illinois and iowa, pulled-pork sandwiches with sweet corn on the side - true taste of home!). our host lives in the 'burbs, and as we got out of the car in front of the house, we both slowly turned around and tried to absorb what we were seeing - and hearing! birds were singing in trees that stood in yards that separated free-standing houses with driveways and garages which meant that there was no loud SEPTA bus declaring "welcome to [pause] route xx [pause] service to [pause] xxx" every ten minutes outside the bedroom window.
we had forgotten about the suburbs! i doubt either of us would trade our cosy little third-floor walkup tucked in the middle of philly for a roomy colonial outside the city, SEPTA bus notwithstanding, but it was like being on vacation for an evening - quite novel!
i grew up in a neighborhood like my friend's, but now is the time to live in an urban neighborhood - to see people who look very different from me on every street i cross. now is my chance to buy fruit from the back of the truck permanently parked two blocks away; to get my cheesesteak from another truck parked by the train station. when else will i get to walk to a trolleystop for my daily commute, or hop off three stops early to pick up fresh veg at the farmer's market in the neighborhood park? and how else would i get to learn about things in the city that could be better - systems that need fixing - and to think about how to help fix them? yah, this is the time for me to be in the city. the suburbs will always be open for visiting hours, but home is still here.
last weekend, my roommate and i went to a friend's house for dinner (two midwestern fellas had offered to cook us, natives of illinois and iowa, pulled-pork sandwiches with sweet corn on the side - true taste of home!). our host lives in the 'burbs, and as we got out of the car in front of the house, we both slowly turned around and tried to absorb what we were seeing - and hearing! birds were singing in trees that stood in yards that separated free-standing houses with driveways and garages which meant that there was no loud SEPTA bus declaring "welcome to [pause] route xx [pause] service to [pause] xxx" every ten minutes outside the bedroom window.
we had forgotten about the suburbs! i doubt either of us would trade our cosy little third-floor walkup tucked in the middle of philly for a roomy colonial outside the city, SEPTA bus notwithstanding, but it was like being on vacation for an evening - quite novel!
i grew up in a neighborhood like my friend's, but now is the time to live in an urban neighborhood - to see people who look very different from me on every street i cross. now is my chance to buy fruit from the back of the truck permanently parked two blocks away; to get my cheesesteak from another truck parked by the train station. when else will i get to walk to a trolleystop for my daily commute, or hop off three stops early to pick up fresh veg at the farmer's market in the neighborhood park? and how else would i get to learn about things in the city that could be better - systems that need fixing - and to think about how to help fix them? yah, this is the time for me to be in the city. the suburbs will always be open for visiting hours, but home is still here.
Monday, April 09, 2007
better stories
i am itching.. my mother calls it the "three year itch" - i've been in one city, at one job, for nearly three years. is it time to ditch the stability i so craved four and five years ago??
am i crazy?
i don't know. there are bits of me that are ready to see what's next this year, and then there are parts of me that sense that God may be planning to keep me where i am for a little while... which makes me wonder: why am itching?
is it because i'm being stirred by His Spirit to follow Him elsewhere? or is it because i'm growing discontent with the stories i can tell... am i fidgety to flit to the next thing, whatever it may be, just to gather better stories to spin at dinner parties? because that's just not a good enough reason.
i've been reading in John's gospel lately, and a recurring theme could be labeled "things that Jesus does that i just don't understand." example: judas complains when Jesus is anointed with perfume before His death, because he (judas) wanted the money for said perfume to go to the common money bag (en route to judas' own pocket). surely Jesus knew that judas had been stealing money like this - but it doesn't say that He did anything to stop the crime.
surely Christ knows about the suffering i just read about online - how appalling numbers of children in India have been abused by trusted adults (thank you BBC: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/6539027.stm). and surely He knows how horrible genocides happen. how water runs out in Yemen (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/from_our_own_correspondent/6530453.stm). how the guy in my neighborhood was pushing that girl around on the sidewalk last week. He, our omnipotent God, knows about these things... my heart cries out with the psalmist who begged God to see and to act, knowing that He is never unaware, never less than sovereign (Psalm 10)! in my limited understanding, i can't bear the juxtaposition of injustice in this world and a just God in heaven. but this last week, as His church celebrated His Son's crucifixion and resurrection (for our salvation!), i was reminded of how His glorious, beautiful plans make little sense to my finite, earth-bound eyes. surely i would have been right there with the disciples, questioning everything Jesus did, exhibiting little-to-no faith that God's plan was being carried out in His way and His time. i would've been with Peter, who tried to stop Jesus from washing his feet, only to hear Jesus say, " 'You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.'" (John 13:7). (i love that.)
seeing a piece of His plan for salvation, i gotta trust, for all things big and small, that He has plans bigger than i can see or imagine - designs that transcend my understanding - big plans for justice for the oppressed, for mercy for the suffering, and small plans for my life tomorrow, and the day after that. i chafe at the not-knowing, but by Christ's grace and intercession, i want to come to the Father and ask Him to raise my earth-bound eyes to faith for heaven's plan. He promises in James 1:5 to give wisdom to those who ask for it, and I want His wisdom -- because His stories are the best stories, and the ones i want to learn to tell.
am i crazy?
i don't know. there are bits of me that are ready to see what's next this year, and then there are parts of me that sense that God may be planning to keep me where i am for a little while... which makes me wonder: why am itching?
is it because i'm being stirred by His Spirit to follow Him elsewhere? or is it because i'm growing discontent with the stories i can tell... am i fidgety to flit to the next thing, whatever it may be, just to gather better stories to spin at dinner parties? because that's just not a good enough reason.
i've been reading in John's gospel lately, and a recurring theme could be labeled "things that Jesus does that i just don't understand." example: judas complains when Jesus is anointed with perfume before His death, because he (judas) wanted the money for said perfume to go to the common money bag (en route to judas' own pocket). surely Jesus knew that judas had been stealing money like this - but it doesn't say that He did anything to stop the crime.
surely Christ knows about the suffering i just read about online - how appalling numbers of children in India have been abused by trusted adults (thank you BBC: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/6539027.stm). and surely He knows how horrible genocides happen. how water runs out in Yemen (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/from_our_own_correspondent/6530453.stm). how the guy in my neighborhood was pushing that girl around on the sidewalk last week. He, our omnipotent God, knows about these things... my heart cries out with the psalmist who begged God to see and to act, knowing that He is never unaware, never less than sovereign (Psalm 10)! in my limited understanding, i can't bear the juxtaposition of injustice in this world and a just God in heaven. but this last week, as His church celebrated His Son's crucifixion and resurrection (for our salvation!), i was reminded of how His glorious, beautiful plans make little sense to my finite, earth-bound eyes. surely i would have been right there with the disciples, questioning everything Jesus did, exhibiting little-to-no faith that God's plan was being carried out in His way and His time. i would've been with Peter, who tried to stop Jesus from washing his feet, only to hear Jesus say, " 'You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.'" (John 13:7). (i love that.)
seeing a piece of His plan for salvation, i gotta trust, for all things big and small, that He has plans bigger than i can see or imagine - designs that transcend my understanding - big plans for justice for the oppressed, for mercy for the suffering, and small plans for my life tomorrow, and the day after that. i chafe at the not-knowing, but by Christ's grace and intercession, i want to come to the Father and ask Him to raise my earth-bound eyes to faith for heaven's plan. He promises in James 1:5 to give wisdom to those who ask for it, and I want His wisdom -- because His stories are the best stories, and the ones i want to learn to tell.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
pots
i love my friends. though i agree with benjamin franklin (favorite son of my adopted city) that beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy, i think that friends are proof that God loves us and wants us to be holy.
i treasure these people. in their presence, i am regularly and alternately encouraged and humbled. most recently, the humbled bit has come through...
tonight was the first really gorgeous bit of spring in philly, which comes out in exuberantly mild, flowered glory this time of year. i wandered over to the park with five friends, and sometime along the way i realized (i think it was halfway between the conversations about 15 inch toads and anti-malaria medicine) that i realised that i am the only one of our merry little band (there are something more than ten of us) that has never lived overseas. (i take that back - there's one other girl. but she's engaged to a guy who's lived in multiple countries and plans to live in another one with him at some point soon, so does she count? (c:) . anyway, tonight i was the only one.
i so enjoy hearing my friends' stories about life in south america, the middle east, and southeast asia. to hear them talk about the foods they've eaten, the mountains they've climbed and - most importantly - the people they've known feeds and comforts something deep in me. i get to know them in a way that is so good - hearing about the experiences, and the conversations, and - again - the people that have made my friends who they are is a treasure to me - like the stories of watching the sun rise and set over the south pacific, or of bargaining in the markets of the middle east, or of snorkeling in the indian ocean. but i have to admit, sometimes i get jealous!
i grew up in a small city in iowa. IOWA. as i often tell people, it's a lovely place to have grown up, but when you're swapping stories with friends who spent significant portions of their childhoods overseas, it's easy to wish for better stories. y'know? i had a blessed childhood of comfort, raised by parents who love God, and who live out that love in their city in that state. blessings, all. but it means that my stories are stories of suburbia. oooh.
but i, like my friends, am a pot. should i the pot say to the Potter, why have You formed me out of the black soil of the midwest? why did you not form me from the sand of the egyptian desert? or the lava of the pacific islands? or the rock of the andes? why instead am i formed from earth that grows tame, trimmed seed-grass??
[how can i assume such an arrogant posture?]
how can i tell that for which i have been formed? how do i know what i the pot have been made to hold, and for what purpose the Potter chose what materials He did? i cannot; of course i cannot. i am silenced.
i am silenced, and i am thankful: thankful for the range of pots i see on the shelves around me and eager to see the purposes for which they have been created. what will this one hold? and that one? for what purpose has He shaped my friends? how will their design bring Him glory? yes, eagerly i wait to see these questions answered, though i know heaven alone may tell. i see my friends; i rejoice with them; and i am humbled by what their stories reveal in my heart. they are my proof that God loves us and wants us to be holy. i see that He has made all with deliberation and intent, and i want to wait humbly for the revelation, piece by piece, of His intent for me His pot.
i treasure these people. in their presence, i am regularly and alternately encouraged and humbled. most recently, the humbled bit has come through...
tonight was the first really gorgeous bit of spring in philly, which comes out in exuberantly mild, flowered glory this time of year. i wandered over to the park with five friends, and sometime along the way i realized (i think it was halfway between the conversations about 15 inch toads and anti-malaria medicine) that i realised that i am the only one of our merry little band (there are something more than ten of us) that has never lived overseas. (i take that back - there's one other girl. but she's engaged to a guy who's lived in multiple countries and plans to live in another one with him at some point soon, so does she count? (c:) . anyway, tonight i was the only one.
i so enjoy hearing my friends' stories about life in south america, the middle east, and southeast asia. to hear them talk about the foods they've eaten, the mountains they've climbed and - most importantly - the people they've known feeds and comforts something deep in me. i get to know them in a way that is so good - hearing about the experiences, and the conversations, and - again - the people that have made my friends who they are is a treasure to me - like the stories of watching the sun rise and set over the south pacific, or of bargaining in the markets of the middle east, or of snorkeling in the indian ocean. but i have to admit, sometimes i get jealous!
i grew up in a small city in iowa. IOWA. as i often tell people, it's a lovely place to have grown up, but when you're swapping stories with friends who spent significant portions of their childhoods overseas, it's easy to wish for better stories. y'know? i had a blessed childhood of comfort, raised by parents who love God, and who live out that love in their city in that state. blessings, all. but it means that my stories are stories of suburbia. oooh.
but i, like my friends, am a pot. should i the pot say to the Potter, why have You formed me out of the black soil of the midwest? why did you not form me from the sand of the egyptian desert? or the lava of the pacific islands? or the rock of the andes? why instead am i formed from earth that grows tame, trimmed seed-grass??
[how can i assume such an arrogant posture?]
how can i tell that for which i have been formed? how do i know what i the pot have been made to hold, and for what purpose the Potter chose what materials He did? i cannot; of course i cannot. i am silenced.
i am silenced, and i am thankful: thankful for the range of pots i see on the shelves around me and eager to see the purposes for which they have been created. what will this one hold? and that one? for what purpose has He shaped my friends? how will their design bring Him glory? yes, eagerly i wait to see these questions answered, though i know heaven alone may tell. i see my friends; i rejoice with them; and i am humbled by what their stories reveal in my heart. they are my proof that God loves us and wants us to be holy. i see that He has made all with deliberation and intent, and i want to wait humbly for the revelation, piece by piece, of His intent for me His pot.
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