RE//all things new

Notes from a Hermit

2012-09-26T21:03:00.001-05:00

O hey Blogger world. I didn't see you there. For months.

So I noticed today that I have become such a hermit ... In between homework and the job search, my only real socialization has been with two cats and a dog.

It also occurred to me that it is awfully difficult to love the people around me when I essentially have no people around me except on the weekends (during which I seem to always be traveling). Dear friends, if you have anything going on in life, just let me know. Even though I do not see people, I would still like to be praying for them.

I'd also like to start blogging more. I'd be nice to write about something besides nonprofit theory once in a while. On that note...

Here are some brief updates:

I set up a writing corner in a private room in my house. Thus far, nothing epic has been written.
I also bought some lettuce seedlings and planted some herbs. I have not yet successfully kept a plant alive for more than six months, but I have hope. I just think it would be nice to grow my own food - economical and healthy.
Nonprofit management courses were designed to kill me.
I have given up on ever finding a job (insert swoon here).
I read El Leon, La Bruja, y El Ropero (that's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for you gringos) and listened to the audiobook. I think I learned more Spanish in seventeen chapters than I did in my bajillion years of education.
I have another update that makes me giggle when I think about it, but I promised myself that I wouldn't tell people for at least two weeks. It's really no big deal. I just love having a secret that no one knows (no, Jessica, it's not a tattoo).

MY DAILY CRISIS:
Some of you may know that I like to have a daily crisis. Today, my daily crisis is over my daily motto. Once a motto has become part of my everyday vernacular, I have to find a new one.

Some of my favorites from the past include:

Clearly these are all derived from my role models.

Well, I am announcing that I am open for suggestions. Please feel free to supply suggestions.

Getting Out of the Boat

2012-08-20T21:44:00.001-05:00

I am behind in my good intentions for this blog. What a pity. To just get started back up, I figure that I might as well just post something I journaled about a month ago. It's still been on my heart and on my mind as I keep trying to find where God has me next.

* * * * *

The boat was already a long distance from the land, battered by the waves ; for the wind was contrary.And in the fourth watch of the night [Jesus] came to them, walking on the sea.When the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were terrified, and said, "It is a ghost !" And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, "Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid." Peter said to Him, "Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water." And He said, "Come !" And Peter got out of the boat, and walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But seeing the wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, "Lord, save me!" Immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and took hold of him, and said to him, "You of little faith, why did you doubt ?"

I read Matthew 14 this morning, and I love the story of Peter walking out on the water to meet Jesus, only to sink. I feel like when we read this story, we commonly chuckle at Peter's impetuousness---at the way he arrives in a position he can't handle. We smile knowingly when Jesus tells him that he has too little faith. Oh, Peter! So much left to learn before Acts 2.
But as I was reading this o so familiar passage, I thought,

Well, I would rather be Peter than be in the boat.

Yes, Peter began to sink as his faith became battered int he storm and as he looked at the waves rather than at the Master of the sea. But, he got out of the boat.

He had faith. It was certainly pushed to its limits (however small), but he acted on the faith that he had. He (literally) stepped out in faith, trusting that Jesus had meant what He said when He had called him out onto the water. And when he sank---"Lord, save me!" He knew who to cry to. While Jesus chided Peter for his lapse in faith, He was also there lifting him up from the waters, expanding his faith, reminding him of His saving power.

Oh, crazy Peter! We laugh, standing elbow to elbow with James, Andrew, Judas, Matthew and the lot with our feet firmly planted on the mostly dry floorboards of the ship.

There is a lot about this coming year that frightens me---so many unknowns (job, living situation, finances, working on my masters, etc.), but I want to be like Peter. I want to recall the promises He has made and get out of the boat. And when I am up to my neck in the waters and my fears, I want to look to Him for rescue. I want to wait with hope upon God and see Him grow my faith.

Father, give me the courage to get out of the boat---whatever comfortable trappings that I trust. Give me the faith to walk with you. May I not lose sight of you or your promises. May I look to you in the storms which I know I must encounter. Jesus, give me the grace to be stretched and grown in my faith.

Last Night in the Gladie House

2012-07-26T22:33:00.001-05:00

Right now I'm listening to greatness--- the clink of dishes clue me in that Megan is performing her sure to be record-setting dishwasher loading (she's proud of it), and Jessica is trying to recall guitar chords from our lessons two years ago. I'm listening to the sound of one of my favorite homes.

It occurred to me just a few moments ago that my very first memory in this house was coming over to watch the Olympics with old FLiC staff girls, the first Gladies that I knew. That memory is impressed on my mind--- roasting asparagus after a day at the Rec with Amanda and making some kind of casserole. Sean and Mark came over along with some other guys and turned on the men's gymnastics. It's funny how clear that memory is considering it was from four years ago.

Some of my equally excellent memories include:

trying to play the guitar like August Rush with Natalie in the Gladie kitchen
talking to Amanda about her trip to Indonesia
Amy's bridal shower
Mallory and Sean's engagement party
making a fort with Sarah
trying to watch Miss Potter with Kristina twice, and failing because she fell asleep every time
rearranging all the furniture much to Megan's consternation
living in Anna and Angela's room during the bedbug incident
youth bible studies with Aundria and Leondra
cereal time every night at 10pm
becoming the official House Mom of Gladies 2.0
Merry Gladie Christmas and Thanksgiving parties with all our most beloved friends--- and friends that were willing to share how thankful they were for each other
playing mafia/ murder in the dark--- Kevin tried to be both mafia and narrator
trampoline pranks on the roof
Kevin hiding in the bookshelf during sardines; Ben hiding in the shower during sardines to get people in there before he turned it on
Gladie house party being crashed by the police (we don't drink or do drugs, y'all)
watching Angela try to use a can opener for a year #neverlearned
when Allie (the dog) went and sat in the corner after Jess asked her if she's ever been in love
Ben Jarvis's weekly visits #annabringstheatmosphere
talking in Spanish with Anna for a several hours---our conversation was really random

There are so many other memories in this house that aren't half as amusing, but have been huge parts of these last few years, for all of us. There has been frustration, near-constant laughter, broken hearts, celebration and screaming of the best kind (it's complicated). There have been so many funny talks in this living room, and so many serious ones too. This is where life happened. It's been home.

This is probably one of my least well written posts. But I'm tired. Moving takes it out of you people.

Parting thoughts: You can take the Gladies out of the house, but you can't take the house out of the Gladies. Does that even make sense? #bedtime

Poetry Sunday (?)

2012-07-08T20:18:00.000-05:00

Fear is the tightest vice, squeezing
Whispers out of the screaming mind, crushing
Beauty and fragility, burying
Flowering joy under silent thunder.

Unrelated note: I have a million things to write, but for whatever reason a lack of motivation. I literally have ten drafts sitting waiting to be completed and posted.

The above poem was once on of them. I wrote it years ago, and it is in no way indicative of my mood (which is "fat and sassy" thanks to Chuys). It's just something. Why not?

Granola Dreams

2012-06-06T18:36:00.001-05:00

My freshman year, my chief mentor was this woman:

Yeah, be jealous.

A lot of things in my life have been patterned after hers: a love of biking, spastic dance-partying, and my understanding of God's love and grace. Leigh Ann was the first woman to disciple me, and I have been thankful every day for her beautiful input on my life.

The one thing that I desired most, however, was her granola-ish-ness. (If you are unfamiliar with the term granola, my working definition is "hippie without the drugs and free-love.") I gave up my dreams of granola-dom some time Junior year of college. As hard as I tried, I just wasn't into earthy colors, Chacos, tie-dye, hemp bracelets, or slack-lining.

But as my roomie and I talked recently, I decided that I am pretty granola/hippie/earthmuffin. I just really enjoy structured clothing and makeup.

Proof of My Flower-Child-ness:

I am vegetarian am transitioning to flexi-vegan (more on that later).
I prefer to be barefoot.
I believe that the earth (even if fallen) is beautiful, holy, and glorifying to God and that we are responsible to care for it.
I really love protesting (as long as it is a worthy cause).
I really like recycling.
I enjoy dwelling in and observing nature.

I consider that goal accomplished.

On to my next: a fully-finished, ready-to-publish work.

First/Last Annual American-Idol-Inspired Meme Contest

2012-06-05T23:36:00.001-05:00

Ok, I'm about to make your day. My roomie passed this stunning performance on to me. Our whole house has practically been in tears laughing.

Don't get me wrong. I love me some Jennifer Holliday, but in the words of youtube user SincerelyBubblez: "Is Jennifer Holliday on crack?"

In a spirit of good-humor, the Gladies invite you to join us in our merriment and meme some of the screen captures from this performance.

If your meme is chosen as Most Hilarious, you might win $50,000 and a corvette. Or maybe just the satisfaction of knowing that you're funnier than me.

Happy meme-ing!

Shookie

PS - Serious posts to come...

A Bit of Nonsense

2012-05-31T07:10:00.001-05:00

Oh, I am clever!

In all seriousness though, I get it. If you're trying to be better than someone else, you're being judgmental and playing the comparison game. But can't I at least try to be a better person than Hitler? I realize that's setting the bar pretty low, but I think it's a little silly to say that you shouldn't try to be better than anyone but yourself (yesterday).

On My Mind: I wonder if text-speak has snuck into ASL... like instead of doing the appropriate signs, kids are using abrevz.

Other Non-Sensical News: I am eating vegan these days. Let the creative food substitutions begin!

Stay in that Shell!

2012-05-02T11:54:00.001-05:00

This made me lol so much.
Happy finals week!

Re//turn

2012-04-26T16:15:00.002-05:00

So.

It's been a while.

Well, I have unfortunately been preoccupied with school, ministry, work, applying for jobs, and applying for other graduate programs. The things that kept my life structured (blog, journaling, home organization binder) have all been long abandoned because of lack of time/energy/interest.

So this is my official notice of not blogging for a while.

Here's my doctors note courtesy of The Energy Project:

Dear Lauren,
Thank you for taking our Energy Audit.
Your score was 13 out of 20, which means you are experiencing an imminent energy crisis.
Mental: 5 - Full out energy crisis
Physical: 4 - Imminent energy crisis
Emotional: 3 - Significant energy deficit
Spiritual: 1 - Fully energized

The Second Magical Meadow (a peak at my childhood mind)

2012-03-01T00:36:00.002-06:00

Well, I haven't blogged much recently, much to my disappointment. I have had so many ideas for blogs recently, too.

Pity.

Hopefully I can become a productive blogger again sometime soon. It'd be great if I was simply a productive writer again. I haven't been writing creatively or journaling. ~~I don't think I've even written a check in the past month.~~ (Psych. Rent was due today.)

For most people, forgetting to write for a month isn't that big of a deal. For an aspiring writer, it's suicide. As I mentioned in an earlier post, one of my goals for the year was to complete a written work that is (theoretically) ready for publication.

I do have one published work though that I can share with you. It is with great pride that I present you with a classic from the Shook family library:

The Second Magical Meadow

Written and Illustrated by Lauren Shook

(especially the movie rights...Disney, if you borrow this, consider yourself sued.)

impeccable reasoning

I got paranoid while posting this... details of my life all over the internet... it's horrifying.

You're stunned by my brilliance aren't you? Alert your local publisher. There's more where that came from.

Reading About: integrative soul care
Funniest Moment of the Day: Leondra's story about running into her mailbox while trying to dance.

An Open Letter to the BB Gun Bandit

2012-01-17T12:01:00.001-06:00

Mr. Bandit,
I'm not going to lie to you. When I walked into my room and saw the mess you made, I was ready to go Antoine Dodson on you. In case you haven't kept up with my blog, this is not only year of the brave; it's also year of the organized. You, sir, have done me no favor.
Under what circumstances is it acceptable to leave a room in shambles like this? You shame your momma. Aside from that, I still need to finish my Home Organization Binder, and you just ran off with the files on my laptop. How am I ever supposed to plan my menus and handle my finances now? What you don't realize, sir, is is that you didn't take some woman's stuff. You took her SANITY. And was that really necessary?
I'm sure you have a perfectly rational reason for doing what you did---economic plight, lack of attention as a child, the influence of violent video games, the desire for your own home oraganiation binder and an affinity for wearing women's jewelry. I'd love to talk those nothing's over with you. How about you just stop by, return the Mac and we have a cup of tea. I'll even let you try on more jewelry if you'd like. Just please give me my life back.
Gracias,

Shooks

PS-- as many of my friends can tell you, I'm hyper aware of gender stereotypes and sexism. So I recognize that this could likely be addressed to Ms. Bandit since women also participate in petty theft. But since my roomies and I have been referring to the honorless BB as a he, OU is now male in my mind. That is all.

PS again-- Bed Intruder song.... Still funny.

Adventuring!

2012-01-02T18:21:00.000-06:00

I'm off on a week-long training session hosted by Wycliffe Bible Translators. I'm quite excited, for a variety of reasons---to learn more about linguistics, to hear reports from the field, and learn from others who are devoting their whole lives so that people may hear the Word of God in their heart-language. I'm sure that I'll have many things to say about that once I get home.

Basically, this was a pointless blog post :)

A Funny: So, I was reading Adoniram Judson's advice to missionary candidates, and his second point was this---

Secondly. In choosing a companion for life, have particular regard to a good constitution, and not wantonly, or without good cause, bring a burden on yourselves and the mission

No, dear. I cannot marry you. I don't care if you have a heart for spreading the gospel in Asia. You're prone to colds, and I have no time for that sort of nonsense.

His ninth point was on being sure to maintain your health through exercise, and another point mentioned that most missionaries who went out to Asia died within five years, so it was probably a reasonable concern.

It's still a little funny. I'll bet you've never seen that on people's list of attributes to seek in a wife/hubby.

A Truthism: I cannot wake up before 10am to save my life. Which is a problem since I work at a high school.

Day One in the Year of the Brave

2012-01-01T13:06:00.000-06:00

So as a random update, I have decided to call this the Year of the Brave. No more Miss Nice-ScaredyCat-Lady. It is time to seize the day.

And now for resolution updates:

Home Organization Binder:
It's coming along swimmingly. I just wanted to show you some examples of how I am setting it up.

a section title with list of things I am adding

an example of one of the sheets under a main section

my little baggie of random creative ideas

Creativity Bootcamp Day 1:

Day 1's challenge... unfortunately chosen around sunset which is about as conventional as lighting gets

I was practically blind after taking this picture.

this is pretty conventional, but I still liked it enough to post

And finally... the picture that I am labeling "The Christmas Day Massacre"

Photojournalism at its best

Other Recent News: I have been looking at more "Big Girl" Jobs, as Angela would say. I have waaayyyy too many interests. I'm interested to see where I'll be by the end of this year.

On the Schedj: Wycliffe's TOTAL It Up next week. Be back home in BCS sometimes after the 14th!

Resolved

2011-12-29T12:00:00.000-06:00

At the beginning of every transition in my life (semester/break) I make a long plan outlining and scheduling my goals for the next few months. They're well intentioned, but honestly, they rarely last more than a few weeks. Most people know how to quit what isn't working---in fact, we're hardwired to. It's called classical conditioning. Even rats learn that way.

Not me.
I am as resolved as ever to plan and budget my life out. Here are a few of my thoughts:

30 Day Creativity Bootcamp:
I was reading my friend Lydia's blog over the summer, and one of the things she said jumped out at me.

The pursuit of art at some point requires a withdrawal from people.

Never were words more aptly spoken. I have gaps of years between my completed works, and often the time when I spent the most time on my art I was in the loneliest phases of my life. If I have to choose between being with people and working on art, I will choose people every time.

this Narnia
(where you meet the real Aslan)

not this Narnia

One of my sweetest memories from my roommates was when Meesh, Jules, and I prayed for one another in Narnia. I remember that Michelle prayed that I would take time to be the person God has created me to be and have time to pursue the passions that He has given me. One of them is people, but artistic expression has always been one of the most important aspects of my person---I've just lost the time to participate in it somewhere along the line.

I recently stumbled across the blog of an artist who is designing a course to remedy that exact issue. I'm sure it's going to be marvelous, and I'm flirting with buying a subscription to it as I am sure that it would be well worth it. But I decided to try making my own Creativity Bootcamp.

Therefore,

Resoluition #1: I am resolved to spend thirty (hopefully consecutive) days creating a habit of writing, drawing, photographing creatively at least once a day.

Sounds easy enough...

Get Organized (finally?)

They say that every minute planning will save you ten minutes down the road.

No more!

I've saved myself TONS of time then, because I've been planning things compulsively for years. The problem is that I'm a spontaneous free spirit that doesn't like to follow anyone's rules, not even my own. I also tend to lose my lists in the piles of my other lists.

Over the past few years though, things have been changing. I have grown to need beauty and order and will actually do something about it (hence, my random day-long cleaning sessions). I also have realized that streamlining some different aspects of my life will give me the time and discipline to pursue writing/artwork/etc seriously. So this year is the year for the plan.

One of my absolute favorite blogs that I have been perusing recently is Deliciously Organized. This woman is a pro, and she has thoroughly convinced me that...

Resolution #2: It's time for me to get serious and make a Home Organizational Binder.

I am PUMPED.

Here's the list of some fun stuff I have found while looking for material to put in my binder:

Family Interview Sheets - I can totally see me doing this with my kids (they'll be so well counseled, it'll probably scar them for life)
Weekly planners
Got some ideas and inspiration from other people's Home Management Binders.
Tons of free print outs here.
Positively Present's 2012 Planner - I love their goals/dreams section

The Organizational Binder will help me tackle a few other random resolutions as well... which brings me to:

Miscellaneous Resolutions!

Complete a thoroughly revised and edited written work. (No, seriously)
Figure out what I am doing after May... before May gets here.
Create a Narnia in the place that I live post-DRJ house (and everywhere I live for the rest of my life).
Get my finances in top shape so I can give more. BINDER
Take up running again so I can look like Regina King. BINDER/Angela?
Look like a grown up, and maybe act like one once in a while.
Pack my lunches BINDER
Have a regular, grown-up sleep schedule... not college-student-up-til-2 am schedule. BINDER

What are YOUR resolutions? Have you ever had any success in keeping past resolutions? I would actually like to know.

RE//conciliation: His Gospel is Peace

2011-12-26T02:20:00.000-06:00

I can't forget the feeling I had while watching Blood Diamond for the first time. Etched into my memory is my reaction to the violence. Two words: horror and inexplicable pain.

Early on in the movie, Solomon Vandy's whole existence is destroyed by the arrival of rebel forces in his small village. The scene which unfolds is horrifying, and the filmmakers do nothing to spare the viewer of the harsh realities of the Sierra Leone Civil War. The air is filled with the rapid explosion of machine gun fire and the primal cry of human misery. Women are gunned down as they run for shelter, blood spatters as men trip in the dust on their way to their deaths, and children---including Solomon's own son---are ripped away from their families to be brainwashed and forced into militia service. Shortly thereafter, the village's remaining men are sorted through, either to have their hands cut off or to be sent to mine diamonds to fund the rebel militia.

Something within me recoiled as I watched the events play out on screen---events which are easy to dismiss as Hollywood's take on gritty entertainment, but reflect the uncomfortable reality of the human experience for so many on this planet. On the verge of nausea, my spirit spoke to God in the same way a frightened child turns to its father---

Why? How could You have let this happen? Why didn't You stop this?

It's a question I ask Him a lot---when I talk to a young woman about the man who abused her, when I read about the Lost Boys of Sudan, when I listen to my friend's tearful account of struggling with depression. It's the question that continually fills the mouths of atheist apologists, religious philosophers, and anyone who has experienced a broken heart---how could a supposedly good God allow fear, suffering, evil? Sometimes the question is purely intellectual, but usually it's associated with the heat of fury, despair, hopelessness.

And it's a valid question. A reasonable one. A worthwhile one.

And it's one that He answers.

No sooner had my soul groaned a desperate, Why didn't You do anything about this?, than He answered back in a clear and stable voice---

I did. I died for this.

More than two thousand years ago, the people of Israel were asking of God the exact same question that has continually been on humanity's tongue. The impoverished population of their small country was uprooted in order to be registered by a foreign oppressor. The air was heavy with fear and injustice, and hope for freedom led to rumors and plots of uprisings. Crowds overpopulated the centers for registration, and droves were without shelter.

Among them was one young unmarried couple. The woman was pregnant---it was the scandal of her hometown---and close to giving birth. In their desperation, the woman---girl, really---was forced to give birth in a cave used to house sheep. The baby's first breath was marked by the stench of manure, and his first guests were a group of rag-tag shepherds. Within two years, a king crazed by paranoia forced this new family to flee the country when he slaughtered all of the boys below the age of two. Thirty plus years later, in the chaos of political rebellion and hard-hearted legalistic religion, the stage was set for this baby to be crucified.

It's not a pretty picture. It's hardly the lovely, peaceful scene which is portrayed by the art of the Middle Ages or the songs that we sing or the little plastic statuettes in our front yards.

And yet, in all the chaos and pain of that situation, the angels---the first to declare Christ's arrival---have the good news of peace.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone roundabout them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shallfind the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." (Luke 2:8-14)

I don't know if you have watched too many Christmas episodes of TV shows. Somewhere in the jostle of lights, warm-fuzzies, and family fun, there's usually a moment of "And isn't that what Christmas is all about?" Just the other day, I watched Glee's Christmas episode. I don't watch the show very often, but I heard that they pulled a Charlie Brown and had Damien McGinty read the story of Jesus' birth from the book of Luke, and I was curious to see if there was any more depth to the episode than the usual holiday fare. There wasn't. The proclamation of peace given by the angels just led to some hugging and the sudden awareness that the homeless were probably needing a song.

That's not what this story is about.

The story recorded in Luke 2 is a story of real peace. It is good news.

It's the story about how God looked at humanity, at you and I, in our desperation. He saw the pain and suffering of Israel under Roman rule. He saw the blood on Cain's hands as he murdered his brother. He saw the girl from Texas haunted by a history of domestic violence. He saw the children forced to murder in rebel armies. He saw the bitter pride in my heart that marked my final years of high school (not a high point for me).

He saw sin. It's like a cancer that gnaws away at us. It's the root cause and flag of our rebellion against Almighty God. It's the reason we are not at peace with Him, the reason that there's such a disconnect between our loving and just God and our horrifying world. But our sin isn't private or limited to just us---in large and small ways it works its way out and by it we destroy one another, whether through bloody civil war or a cutting comment.

And even while knowing our infectious and vile and self-destructive ways, He chose to set aside His glory, to slip into our skin, to be born and walk and die for us. He chose to take on the fury and anger and just condemnation that we owe for our sin to restore peace with God and to heal the wounds we have dealt one another.

The baby in the manger was born to die, to satisfy the wrath of God so that He could bring reconciliation and peace to all of our brokenness. And He has promised to return to restore the earth, to establish justice, to end the pain and chaos of our world. In the meantime, His church is called to be ministers of reconciliation, working with His Spirit to bring peace between God and men and between one another.

That's beautiful.

O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the Spirit felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Christ was born;
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!

....

Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim! (1st&3rd verses from "O Holy Night")

Praise our Father, who loved humankind in our most gruesome and miserable state as we blatantly shook our fists in His face and took the lives of our brothers and sisters. Praise the Son who took on flesh, became a man in order that He might pay for the horror of our crimes. Praise the Spirit for His work in healing us---in transforming us into the image of Christ and bringing unity to God's people.

PS- this is probably going to get an overhaul when I'm more awake to edit it.

Liquid Artwork

2011-12-21T10:57:00.003-06:00

Every scene from The Fall is stunning. I would legitimately hang every frame up as its own piece of artwork.

Seriously, just watch the opening credits... you won't see quality like this on most screens.

OMGLOTR!

2011-12-21T00:44:00.000-06:00

It's a little concealed fact that I am creepishly obsessed with all things Tolkien. I would like to say that I am his number one fan, but I don't know if I can compete against this chick who spent her life savings and raised support online to create a Lord of the Rings Prequel. That's pretty intense.

And I probably can't even argue for the number two spot as that arguably belongs to Stephen Colbert. But you know what? Third place isn't that bad.

Anywho, yesterday, I was about to purchase tickets to the midnight premiere of TinTin (what the heck is that?) just to see the new trailer for The Hobbit. Fortunately for this broke little gal's pocket book, someone leaked it online a few hours early.

So this is my gift to all of you little hobbitses who once dressed up as Bilbo Baggins and ran around an imaginary mountain (unfortunately, Grace remembers none of this).

Awkward Confessions: I am apparently the worst packer ever. I forgot my glasses, my medication, my jacket, my phone charger, toothpaste, and a book I'm writing a paper on. What did I remember to bring with me?

Coming Soon to a Blog Near You: Christmas reflections. Suggested viewing to really understand what I have to say: Blood Diamond, Hotel Rwanda, etc. Let's just say that the post will probably be a little unconventional.

in the poeticish mood

2011-12-15T23:58:00.002-06:00

Jessica and I watched Bright Star tonight. It was lovely, but I must warn you that it is tragic. I assumed that Jessica knew Keats's biography (I have no idea why) and didn't bother to let her know that he died prematurely at age twenty five, separated from the woman he loved and believing himself to be a failure as a poet. Today, despite only having four years worth of published works, he is remembered as one of the most beloved poets of the English language and one of the key figures in the Romantic movement.
Why is it that artists are generally unappreciated during their life-times? I wonder now who our unappreciated artists are.

This is my favorite selection from his work (although the line "A thing of beauty is a joy forever" is a classic as well). It is from the central passage of Ode on a Grecian Urn.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
    Are sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
    Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
    Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
        Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal - yet, do not grieve;
        She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
    For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
    Your leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
    For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
    For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
        For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
    That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
        A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

a late version of "Bright Star," written for Fanny Brawne

I don't honestly think that I can ever honestly hope to produce the caliber of art that Keats did, especially in poetry. I have a few poetic turns of phrases now and then, but nothing which compares to the beauty of the English Romantics. I am much more at home in prose, anyhow. I did however find Keats' commentary on his imaginative process to be quite interesting though:

A Poet is the most unpoetical of any thing in existence; because he has no Identity – he is continually in for – and filling some other Body – The Sun, the Moon, the Sea and Men and Women who are creatures of impulse are poetical and have about them an unchangeable attribute – the poet has none; no identity – he is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's Creatures.
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of Imagination – What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not – for I have the same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty
It appears to me that almost any man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy citadel.
Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

On My Mind: I warn you that my love of poetry will probably spill over here again soon. Already, Jess and I have discussed the Brownings, e.e. cummings, Langston Hughes, and T. S. Eliot. Let's just say that I am a great lover of poetry, though I admit that I don't fully understand it the way that my heart understands a story.

Life Plan of the Hour: Learn to snap with my right hand. Yes, that is all I have at present.

love and control

2011-12-13T00:09:00.000-06:00

Over the past year or two, I have (un)fortunately had the sin struggle of a need for control which was violently exposed in my own life. If any of you have had unrelenting conviction, you might know how difficult that can be. I'm glad that God has been showing me my imperfection and has been transforming me in that area, but it feels so much like Eustace having the dragon skin ripped off of his flesh.

It hurts.

It is so good though.

Here are some of the things that I try/want to control:

my life
your life (probably)
the lives of children in third world countries
bottled water consumption (it's complicated)
money
SEWING
my future geographic location
variables leading to effectiveness in ministry
God's favor
the methodology of other people in ministry
my emotions

In the (slightly modified) words of "Invictus," "I [think] am the master of my fate;/ I [pretend that I] am the captain of my soul." Well, guess what? It's really not working out that well.

For those of you who don't know me that well, this past year has been a significant struggle for me in dealing with anxiety. I have this fun thing called panic disorder. I have been meaning to write a little bit more about walking through that struggle, but for the moment, I'll just say that it's something like living on the Island on Lost and having the Smoke Monster just periodically run through your brain. No biggie though.

Anyway, feeling anxious and out of control isn't the best situation when you're grasping desperately to the steering wheel of your life. But God is so faithful. He uses that stuff to show me my desperate need of Him. I would love to blog on what God has taught me through anxiety at a later point, but for now, I want to address one area that I didn't even realize I was trying to control until this past year:

LOVE

Bet you weren't expecting that. (Acctttuuaaallyyyyyy, it's in the title, so I bet you were.)

My love for my family.

My love for coworkers.

My love for Pioneers girls.

My love for my friends.

My love for animals.

My love for God.

It seems a little odd perhaps, especially since I appear to be a pretty open and loving person (at least, I think I do), but the vulnerability and commitment that come with love make me uncomfortable. It makes me squirm. A lot.

Two summers ago, I was floored when the Holy Spirit revealed to me that I did not believe that God truly loved me. My actions were that of a slave, not that of a beloved child. I believed somehow that I could earn the favor of God without the discomfort giving Him my entire heart with its many broken parts. Even though I had expressed that desire to love Him fully, I still wanted it to be on my terms.

Over the past few years, I have been learning about the goodness, grace, mercy and love of God, and I have learned a great deal about loving Him through learning to love people. Someone once told me that the reason his daughter didn't let people into areas of her heart was because she still hadn't even allowed Christ access to those areas of her life. The words stung, though they weren't intended to injure me, because I recognized the same tendency in myself.

There are so many parts of my heart that I have (often unknowingly) withheld from others because I have also struggled to surrender these same corners to the Lord. I have been so encouraged to see how God is sanctifying me in that regard. He is helping me learn to love fully and relinquish my rights and control in those areas.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” ---C. S. Lewis

Count on C. S. Lewis to know how to say it.

I also recently found these devotionals that deal with similar concepts of love and control for God in a paper pile from high school. I'm pretty sure that they're from My Utmost for His Highest.

The Author's Aside: I suck at making up blog titles. I will be hiring someone to write them for me from now on.

On My Mind: I is soooo tired. Why do I always have the impulse to write at night?

Insomnomania

2011-10-26T00:11:00.002-05:00

I've noticed that each evening, my body is given a choice---fall asleep in the next 15 minutes or else do something crazy and spontaneous instead. I guess it makes sense. My body won't run on the previous night's sleep anymore and therefore requests fuel of one kind or another.

Adrenaline.

Sleep.

It's all the same in the long run, right?

After a long while at this whole "do something random" decision, I would like to inform you all that adrenaline is not sleep's equal. Eventually you run out of steam and end up blogging about your need for sleep. If google is to be believed (and when is it ever to be doubted?), I probably do have acute insomnia. I should work on that.

Notes on the future of this blog:
I acknowledge my failure as a blogger. The fact is that this is not my first blog to get the short end of the stick in my life. This is just one casualty in a long line of unfinished projects. It's not that I don't have plans for the blog. I'm just a little lazy in actually carrying them out.

I have a few ideas, some a little ludicrous and some a little serious.

weekly post on evangelism---why do we do the things we do, what are some issues that need to be addressed, methods and their effectiveness
Dating Part 2 (Megan?!?!)
actually getting Ludacris to host my blog
recording all of my deep convos from now on instead of writing my thoughts down (aka VLOG)
weekly post on one of the disciplines and what I'm learning about it
using this as room to discuss conspiracy theories (ex: the Ethiopians have the Ark of the Covenant... seriously)
random posts from awesome stuff I read/hear in seminary/the rest of my life
insights on ministry

I'm really not sure what I want to do. So if one of these strikes your fancy, speak now or forever hold your peace.

Ridiculous Moment of the Day: While talking about the Year of Jubilee in Bstud, I looked over at Debs and mouthed "redistribution of wealth." She gave me a look of reproach and put up a finger-stash and pointed at me. I finger-stashed back with my finger pointed up.

Latest and Greatest Life Plan: Primatologist, Ecologist, Conservationist, and TED Speaker. Save the orangutans; save the world!!

This man is my hero. Seriously

Baby Steps

2011-10-20T19:53:00.002-05:00

I haven't blogged much recently, and I miss it a little.

The primary reason that I have not blogged in a long while is because of time---I've been incredibly busy between work, classes, and Pioneers duties.

I feel like I'm at such a strange phase of life---I don't really feel like I have a real "grown up" job yet, but I also haven't been in the college for coming up on a year. I don't really know what I thought I would be doing right now, but I don't know if this was it.

Talking to Natalie the other weekend was so encouraging, though, because she reminded me that I basically am doing everything I have always wanted to do. While I feel like I am permanently stuck in the "aspiring" phase of being a writer, a missionary, a fighter for justice, a teacher of God's word, she helped me see that I am living and doing the things that I am passionate about right now. I'm just not getting payed for any of it. And that's ok. One little baby step at a time. All that the Lord calls us to is to follow Him daily.

Sorry so short, but I have to get back into blogging somehow... Baby steps.

Hypochondriac Moment of the Week: I recently discovered a small bump on the roof of my mouth, and I wonder if it's an extra tooth finally popping in or a brain tumor breaking through my hard palate.

Plans for My Future Life: Saving the babies. And/or the world. Seriously. Location TBA.

Cultural Holiness

2011-09-24T11:59:00.000-05:00

"Many Christians have what we might call a 'cultural holiness.' They adapt to the character and behavior pattern of Christians around them. As the Christian culture around them is more or less holy, so these Christians are more or less holy. But God has not called us to be like those around us. He has called us to be like Himself. Holiness is nothing less than conformity to the character of God." ---Jerry Bridges, The Pursuit of Holiness, pp. 25-26.

On My Mind: Dang, Gina. I've really let the blog go. It's definitely not because I don't have thoughts to air out... it's just that the blog is not my priority these days. It's a pity that I'm employed now.

Interesting Fact of the Day: I have a serious problem while shopping. I actually have two. 1- If it were not for problem number 2, I would be a shopaholic. 2 - I constantly guilt myself for buying things when the rest of the world is in poverty/because I have to find a way to pay for seminary.

Les pêcheurs de perles

2011-09-16T13:00:00.005-05:00

In the depth of a fragrant night
I listened with ravished soul
to your beloved voice
Your heart understood mine
--- from the French opera "Les pêcheurs de perles"

Overdramatic

2011-09-05T22:45:00.000-05:00

My mother is using one of our old notebooks for her prayer notes. Apparently she found the following written on one of the pages:

So disappointment creeps in as I find that I am not even the wall. First, not to be a fair lady of Athens! But I am but a humble shade, and how could I expect such things? To be great stone and mortar---that was noble enough, even though chinks and cracks make the solid permeable. But now I am not even a wall. I am but a man of no significance and of no account who says little and does less. Truly, how can such a humble shade as I become such a character? One who is less than even a wall?

I must have written that after losing out the part of Hermia in our production of Midsummer Night's Dream. I was obviously way too into the Shakespeare thing. My mom was quite impressed with my writing though.

Music of the Day: Billie Holiday. Duh.

On My Mind: Why did we find enough sand to fill three dust pans underneath our carpet? It boggles my mind.

Leaves for Healing

2011-08-27T18:02:00.000-05:00

Recently, I am a little discouraged. I'm not sure exactly why, either. I think that it's probably one part loneliness, one part feeling cooped-up, and one part depression over the very tiny part I play in the world.

Whitman said,

"What good amid these, O me, O life?/ Answer./ That you are here---that life exists and identity./ That the powerful play goes on and you will contribute a verse."

That may be, but I feel that my verse is quite small, insignificant and tiny.

I think (but am too lazy to verify on Google) that Mother Teresa said something about how our small acts of great love are like drops into God's great ocean. Perhaps that is my problem. I want to cover the world's brokenness with my love, only to discover that no matter how I stretch and fray it, it cannot even cover those within my reach.

I am no savior.

Christ has called us to be like Him---to have compassion for the broken and meet them with truth and grace. God's people have always been charged to care for those who are suffering.

I think that many young believers, in my circle of friends at least, have caught onto that reality and are actively seeking restoration for the people around us. But with everything, it never seems to be enough. Sin's effects continue to swallow these communities, and I feel like I'm drowning in discouragement and insignificance.

The Holy Spirit has been good to remind me that the work is worth it for the few are redeemed and for the restoration that does occur. The Holy Spirit can and will do great and mighty things through the Church when we are walking in His power, but the burdens of sin will not totally be removed until Christ comes again and dwells among us in a land where there is

river of the water of life, clear as crystal, coming from the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the middle of its street. On either side of the river was the tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. There will no longer be any curse; and the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and His bond-servants will serve Him; they will see His face, and His name will be on their foreheads. And there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God will illumine them; and they will reign forever and ever.

Everything in me today says that the work is too hard and hopeless and cannot accomplish much, but the Spirit inside me chides, "This is the victory that has overcome the world---our faith" (1 John 5:4) and that "faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1).

Thanks be to Christ for accomplishing the victory against sin and death----but maranatha. Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

On my mind: I need to create a Narnia

Favorite inside joke I can't quote: "Girl-pact..."