Yesterday, in Fresno, it rained.
This is the first time in many many moons that it has rained in Fresno. Here, they have a thing called “first rain”, much like the Midwest’s “first snow”, where you have to be careful driving and many people get in accidents because they have forgotten how to drive in that weather. It was very bizarre to look out the window and see rain coming down and puddles in our yard. The last time I saw rain was in Colorado at the end of July, roadtripping out here with Jess.
I did not like the cloudiness. But everyone was quite excited: my host dad was happy and put on the special relaxing morning music, the kids had rainy day schedule at school and went out to play in the rain after school, we curled up with warm clothes and hot drinks, I made chili for dinner because rain requires soup. Their excitement rubbed off on me, and I did like the rain noise on the roof.
At work, everyone wore raincoats. I, in my Midwestern pride, decided that California rain could not be very bad and therefore I did not need a raincoat. I got very wet. I remembered my roommate who hated getting the hems of her pants wet in the rain. I remembered my polka-dotted rainboots, in the closet in Illinois.
At FoodMaxx, which is in the hood, I got out the umbrella from my car. Then a guy made fun of me for being a high-maintenance girl who now had rain gear: “Ooh, look at her getting out her umbrella. Wanna share with me?” At which a little extra moisture got in my eyes, because I was having a bad day, and that was just not the time to mess with me, buddy.
Last night, as I wore a long sleeved shirt for possibly the first time in Fresno, my host dad and mom and I talked about my bad day. My host dad said, “It will get better. Just like the paper says the sun will come out tomorrow, this will get better.” Then my host mom made fun of him for being cheesily profound.
But, it is true. It will get better. God keeps his promises. We think things getting better is like the sun coming out (and it is). But in the Bible, rain indicated things getting better. God promised as surely as the sun rises, he would come like the winter rains to water the earth (Hos. 6:1-3). Just like he promised: streams in the wasteland, water in the desert (Is. 43:18-21). And then it downpoured in Fresno. Rain in the Bible was a good thing, and it is a good thing here in the Valley, too. So even though yesterday’s rain was icky and made me wet, rain is God keeping his promise. So he will also keep his promise that the sun will come out. Things are gonna get better. And in the meantime, it smells like rain.
October 15, 2009
September 29, 2009
he will come like the rains...
Sometimes in life it seems like God is really providing, that he is letting all the good things come down from heaven like winning team-colored confetti after a championship game. God gives all sorts of good things from heaven, from up above.
One of the first unusual things to come from heaven was manna. Manna is pretty sweet. The Bible says it came in little wafers, white like coriander seed, and it tasted like honey. (I think manna was like Nilla Wafers, which are pretty much bomb.) The manna came every day except for Sabbaths, and there was enough for each day…for 40 years. For 40 years, God sent manna for the Israelites to eat in the desert. While I’m sure that got really old really fast, God’s faithfulness is seen in the manna raining down like dew every single morning for 40 years.
Another good thing that comes from heaven is rain. Where I went to college, rain is expected and normal and often annoying. Rain means having to pull out rain boots and rain jacket and umbrella and still getting soggy while I walk around campus. But where I grew up in a farm community, rain was important. Everyone talks about weather, even if they’re not farmers, and everyone knows whether it is too wet or too dry for the crops.
But I don’t think we even knew what too dry was. Now I live in the San Joaquin Valley, the breadbasket of America, producer of most of the country’s fruit and vegetables. But without irrigation, nothing would be growing here. Our yard is proof of that. We don’t water a lawn, so we have brown prickly weeds, and no grass. Lots of people are arguing about irrigating the Valley, because the fish farmers in the Sacramento Delta want to save their water for the fish, and the environmentalists in San Francisco (who get their water from a part of Yosemite National Park—Hetch Hetchy—that has been desecrated to make a dam) also want to save the fish and the delta. I wonder sometimes if the environmentalists and fish farmers do not like grapes and tomatoes and olives and nuts.
Emotions and opinions run high in the dry Valley. Much of the Valley’s economic system depends on agriculture. A nearby community has a 40% unemployment rate, largely due to the way the entire lifestyle is centered around farming. And farming just isn’t doing well, as farmers wrestle with a weak economy and little water; so they try to cut back on the number of farm laborers. No one here really expects to find manna in their yards or between the grape vines.
Israel also depended on agriculture for their needs, once they reached the Promised Land and could grow food instead of waiting for manna. If the crops grew well, Israel rejoiced in God’s favor. If there was a drought, Israel mourned God’s wrath and went hungry. Hosea 6:1-3 exhorts Israel to seek God, confident of his provision if his people repent.
“Come, let us return to the LORD…Let us acknowledge the LORD; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.”
While we may be lacking water in the Valley, we’ve got plenty of sun. I never expect that the sun will not be shining when I get up in the morning—it’s always there. And just as the sun comes up every day, so will God come to us with rain.
All the good things come from heaven. Manna, rain, sun. Sometimes it seems so dry, and the manna so long ago. But they’re coming anyway, as surely as the sun rises every day. God will come to us to give manna in the desert and rains to water the earth.
One of the first unusual things to come from heaven was manna. Manna is pretty sweet. The Bible says it came in little wafers, white like coriander seed, and it tasted like honey. (I think manna was like Nilla Wafers, which are pretty much bomb.) The manna came every day except for Sabbaths, and there was enough for each day…for 40 years. For 40 years, God sent manna for the Israelites to eat in the desert. While I’m sure that got really old really fast, God’s faithfulness is seen in the manna raining down like dew every single morning for 40 years.
Another good thing that comes from heaven is rain. Where I went to college, rain is expected and normal and often annoying. Rain means having to pull out rain boots and rain jacket and umbrella and still getting soggy while I walk around campus. But where I grew up in a farm community, rain was important. Everyone talks about weather, even if they’re not farmers, and everyone knows whether it is too wet or too dry for the crops.
But I don’t think we even knew what too dry was. Now I live in the San Joaquin Valley, the breadbasket of America, producer of most of the country’s fruit and vegetables. But without irrigation, nothing would be growing here. Our yard is proof of that. We don’t water a lawn, so we have brown prickly weeds, and no grass. Lots of people are arguing about irrigating the Valley, because the fish farmers in the Sacramento Delta want to save their water for the fish, and the environmentalists in San Francisco (who get their water from a part of Yosemite National Park—Hetch Hetchy—that has been desecrated to make a dam) also want to save the fish and the delta. I wonder sometimes if the environmentalists and fish farmers do not like grapes and tomatoes and olives and nuts.
Emotions and opinions run high in the dry Valley. Much of the Valley’s economic system depends on agriculture. A nearby community has a 40% unemployment rate, largely due to the way the entire lifestyle is centered around farming. And farming just isn’t doing well, as farmers wrestle with a weak economy and little water; so they try to cut back on the number of farm laborers. No one here really expects to find manna in their yards or between the grape vines.
Israel also depended on agriculture for their needs, once they reached the Promised Land and could grow food instead of waiting for manna. If the crops grew well, Israel rejoiced in God’s favor. If there was a drought, Israel mourned God’s wrath and went hungry. Hosea 6:1-3 exhorts Israel to seek God, confident of his provision if his people repent.
“Come, let us return to the LORD…Let us acknowledge the LORD; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.”
While we may be lacking water in the Valley, we’ve got plenty of sun. I never expect that the sun will not be shining when I get up in the morning—it’s always there. And just as the sun comes up every day, so will God come to us with rain.
All the good things come from heaven. Manna, rain, sun. Sometimes it seems so dry, and the manna so long ago. But they’re coming anyway, as surely as the sun rises every day. God will come to us to give manna in the desert and rains to water the earth.
September 4, 2009
piecing together peace
So much has been happening in my life lately. I want to write, but I find myself at a loss for words to describe the upheaval that is taking place. So I turn mostly to other people's words and thoughts to explain it for me.
Why did you bring us out in the desert to starve to death? It would have been better if we had stayed in Egypt! --the Israelites in the desert, repeatedly, in many different places
I know you didn't bring me out here to drown
so why am I 10 feet under and upside down
barely surviving has become my purpose
cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface
if I could just see you everything will be alright
if I see you the storminess will turn to light
and I will walk on water
and you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be all right
i know everything will be all right --Lifehouse, "Storm"
When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot
Thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul --Horatio Spafford, "It is Well With My Soul"
As surely as the sun will rise, you’ll come to us
As surely as the dawn appears
You’ll come --Hillsong, "You'll Come", taken from Hosea 6:1-3
Maybe Adam and Eve threw a party when the sun came up
After they had experienced the first night and darkness ever --my friend Jess' class
Our God is the one Constant in the tossing waves and darkness. --my friend Hannah
It's more important what I'm retreating to, not from. --Hannah again
If there’s something I’m learning since I graduated, something I’m experiencing since I’ve moved across the country to be a Cali girl, it’s this:
When something upsetting happens,
and I have nothing to do, to occupy myself with, to distract myself with
or I have no one to call because our family plan has run out of minutes
so I can only call on nights and weekends
and by the time I reach 9pm everyone else is asleep far away in a different time zone
If there’s something I’m learning,
It’s that when the waves and darkness come, I need to fall hard on God, instead of anywhere or anyone else.
If there’s something I’m experiencing,
It’s that I can and will fall hard on God. And he will surely catch me when I fall.
Why did you bring us out in the desert to starve to death? It would have been better if we had stayed in Egypt! --the Israelites in the desert, repeatedly, in many different places
I know you didn't bring me out here to drown
so why am I 10 feet under and upside down
barely surviving has become my purpose
cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface
if I could just see you everything will be alright
if I see you the storminess will turn to light
and I will walk on water
and you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be all right
i know everything will be all right --Lifehouse, "Storm"
When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot
Thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul --Horatio Spafford, "It is Well With My Soul"
As surely as the sun will rise, you’ll come to us
As surely as the dawn appears
You’ll come --Hillsong, "You'll Come", taken from Hosea 6:1-3
Maybe Adam and Eve threw a party when the sun came up
After they had experienced the first night and darkness ever --my friend Jess' class
Our God is the one Constant in the tossing waves and darkness. --my friend Hannah
It's more important what I'm retreating to, not from. --Hannah again
If there’s something I’m learning since I graduated, something I’m experiencing since I’ve moved across the country to be a Cali girl, it’s this:
When something upsetting happens,
and I have nothing to do, to occupy myself with, to distract myself with
or I have no one to call because our family plan has run out of minutes
so I can only call on nights and weekends
and by the time I reach 9pm everyone else is asleep far away in a different time zone
If there’s something I’m learning,
It’s that when the waves and darkness come, I need to fall hard on God, instead of anywhere or anyone else.
If there’s something I’m experiencing,
It’s that I can and will fall hard on God. And he will surely catch me when I fall.
August 12, 2009
Roadtrip!
Here are some photos. More on Picasa at: http://picasaweb.google.com/sarahlizhurliman/Roadtrip
These are in reverse chronological order because I am not computer literate.
San Francisco Bay
Oak Creek Canyon near Jess' home
Grand Canyon 30 minute tour
Colorado mountains
Bright colors
Rainbow and rainstorm on I-70
These are in reverse chronological order because I am not computer literate.
San Francisco Bay
Oak Creek Canyon near Jess' home
Grand Canyon 30 minute tour
Colorado mountains
Bright colors
Rainbow and rainstorm on I-70
International House of Prayer
Just the Facts
Jess and I made it to California, the West coast. I could say so much about our lengthy, fun, exciting, transformative, harrowing roadtrip. But instead I’ll just give you the numbers.
Number of…
Miles: 2,862 (Danforth, IL to San Francisco, CA)
Days we spent traveling: 8
Roadkill: 35
Different states’ license plates we saw: 38 (plus Sonora, Mexico and British Columbia, Canada)
Times we stopped for gas: 19
Gas stations that had a winery attached: 1 (Lucas, Kansas)
Gas stations that had old, non-digital pumps: 1 (Yucca, AZ)
Highest gas price: $3.29/gal (Ludlow, CA)
Lowest gas price: $2.41/gal (Kansas City, MO)
Chapters of the Bible that we read aloud in the car: 5 (for Jess' Jerusalem prep)
Times we broke down: 1
Friendly men who helped us when we broke down: 3 (Larry, Joe, and Steve)
Houses we stayed in: 6
Houses we stayed in where neither of us knew the people there prior to arriving in their home: 1
States we went through on I-70: 5 (IL, MO, KS, CO, UT)
Different kinds of animal-crossing signs we saw: 4 (deer, elk, cows, horses)
Picnics we ate: 6 (that makes 12 turkey sandwiches)
Times we ate out: 2
Times we ate out at Taco Bell: 2
Locations of our lunchtime picnics: a park in Pocahontas, IL; an outdoor table at International House of Prayer in MO; a lonely KS gas station using my car as a table; a patch of grass in the Wells Fargo parking lot in UT; an AZ rest area with signs to beware of poisonous animals; a busy CA gas station using my car as a table.
Pictures soon to come.
Number of…
Miles: 2,862 (Danforth, IL to San Francisco, CA)
Days we spent traveling: 8
Roadkill: 35
Different states’ license plates we saw: 38 (plus Sonora, Mexico and British Columbia, Canada)
Times we stopped for gas: 19
Gas stations that had a winery attached: 1 (Lucas, Kansas)
Gas stations that had old, non-digital pumps: 1 (Yucca, AZ)
Highest gas price: $3.29/gal (Ludlow, CA)
Lowest gas price: $2.41/gal (Kansas City, MO)
Chapters of the Bible that we read aloud in the car: 5 (for Jess' Jerusalem prep)
Times we broke down: 1
Friendly men who helped us when we broke down: 3 (Larry, Joe, and Steve)
Houses we stayed in: 6
Houses we stayed in where neither of us knew the people there prior to arriving in their home: 1
States we went through on I-70: 5 (IL, MO, KS, CO, UT)
Different kinds of animal-crossing signs we saw: 4 (deer, elk, cows, horses)
Picnics we ate: 6 (that makes 12 turkey sandwiches)
Times we ate out: 2
Times we ate out at Taco Bell: 2
Locations of our lunchtime picnics: a park in Pocahontas, IL; an outdoor table at International House of Prayer in MO; a lonely KS gas station using my car as a table; a patch of grass in the Wells Fargo parking lot in UT; an AZ rest area with signs to beware of poisonous animals; a busy CA gas station using my car as a table.
Pictures soon to come.
July 25, 2009
Packing Trust
I had meant to write sooner, but the last week has been a whirlwind of last-minute Walmart runs, dinners and coffee with friends, family time, sorting and packing and discarding and packing.
On Monday, which is two days away, I will be leaving Danforth and driving to California on a cross-country roadtrip with Jess, with varying stops at IHOP-Kansas City, Denver, Rifle, Sedona, Fresno, and San Francisco.
Right now my “life,” which is really just stuff, is stuffed (appropriate) in my trunk with the remainder strewn about my room. The car has been vacuumed and washed, per my dad’s instructions. I have had a lesson on changing tires, the oil has been changed, and the tires filled with air. My mom has requested a list of the names, phone numbers, and addresses of the people we will be staying with on the way. Various people have told me “be careful” about a million times. Only my grandma, who is not quite with it anymore, told me “have fun!” Google Maps has kindly assisted with directions to get to somewhere, hopefully the places we intend to go to. A Trader Joe’s bag is packed with snacks for the road. It seems I am adequately prepared. As my dad says, proper prior planning prevents pathetically poor performance.
Planning runs in my blood.
But this time, I would rather not be so prepared. I would rather throw the minimum of stuff into my car, take the road map, and set out. Some friends are traveling around the country this summer to various national parks and ministries, on their motorcycles. Wind in their faces, small bag and tent on the back.
My grandpa told me a few days ago about my Aunt Beth on her roadtrip from Illinois to Santa Fe when she had just graduated college. She packed her tiny car and the big swerving attached U-haul, complete with her plants, cat, and kittens. As she crossed through the states, the plants slowly died and the cat lost its voice from meowing too much. She slept in her car at truck stops, and when she needed to back up she asked the truckers to do it for her, since she hadn’t learned to back up a U-haul.
This version of travel, the unplanned, spontaneous, simplistic journeying (which brings with it many surprises) is much more attractive to me. It is wild, unbridled, carefree. It carries with it a load of freedom, instead of the burdens of expectations and control. The sojourner is expectant and eager to see what happens (because anything may happen!) in contrast to holding her expectations so tightly that they eventually bind and control her instead.
I am annoyed that my car is so tightly packed and that I will be referring to step-by-step directions. What’s more, I am annoyed at all the invisible baggage I am packing: worries about starting my new jobs, getting comfortable with my host family, making friends, fitting in with the church staff, missing friends, being wanted. I want freedom, but I am so scared to trust God with working out the little details. To put it bluntly, he isn’t enough for me. I want the acceptance of people and the ease of happiness. And I want the control to make these things happen. Uncertain of my ability to do so, I would still prefer not to let God have control. Who knows what might happen then!
Throwing out the clothes and photos and shampoo isn’t really an option. I am too much of a packrat, my parents would throw a fit, and I just don’t feel like carrying everything back upstairs. But leaving behind the addiction to control, the weighty expectations that everything must live up to (including me), is a viable option. It even looks attractive. If only I can stand to give it up.
This morning I read Isaiah 56. I am coming to love this chapter for how it affirms the place of foreigners and eunuchs in the house of God. Outcasts, orphans, loners are welcomed and provided for just as the people who already made the cut. The childless eunuch will have his name carried on forever, and the foreigner’s sacrifice will be accepted. The conditions, however, are placed high. Those who wish to dwell in God’s house of prayer, his perfect home, must hold fast to the covenant and keep the Sabbath without desecrating it. The LORD repeats this over and over to his people. We can’t have God on our terms.
What stuck out to me today was the command to keep the Sabbath. I think the Bible’s version of keeping the Sabbath is different than ours. Keeping the Sabbath in the Old Testament included leaving the crop fields fallow every 7 years, canceling debts every 50 years, and sacrificing firstfruits of crops to God while leaving behind extra for the widow and alien. A person had to rely on God for only a portion of their crop to be enough, and for the first 6 years to be enough for the 7th. If a person gained land or money through another’s debt, they could not keep it after the Year of Jubilee. Working on the Sabbath was forbidden so that people would be reminded weekly that their labor, crops, and therefore their very lives were in God’s hands, not their own. Trust was vital.
I believe that God’s insistent call to keep the Sabbath without desecrating it means to give to God what is God’s. He asks, historically, for the first, the best, the 10% tithe. But to give God what is due him, well, that is everything. That means, for me, giving him my desire for control. To keep the Sabbath, to trust God, to release control, is to find freedom and joy in God’s house of prayer. I may get lost, I may not find a second job, I may have no friends and be cast out on the street by my family (some outcomes less likely than others), but I dwell in God’s hands. Though I become a foreigner, an outcast, God will welcome me into his home.
Pray, oh please pray, for trust and the freedom, rest, and peace that follows. Pray for a joyful, reviving trip for Jess and me and all the people we meet.
On Monday, which is two days away, I will be leaving Danforth and driving to California on a cross-country roadtrip with Jess, with varying stops at IHOP-Kansas City, Denver, Rifle, Sedona, Fresno, and San Francisco.
Right now my “life,” which is really just stuff, is stuffed (appropriate) in my trunk with the remainder strewn about my room. The car has been vacuumed and washed, per my dad’s instructions. I have had a lesson on changing tires, the oil has been changed, and the tires filled with air. My mom has requested a list of the names, phone numbers, and addresses of the people we will be staying with on the way. Various people have told me “be careful” about a million times. Only my grandma, who is not quite with it anymore, told me “have fun!” Google Maps has kindly assisted with directions to get to somewhere, hopefully the places we intend to go to. A Trader Joe’s bag is packed with snacks for the road. It seems I am adequately prepared. As my dad says, proper prior planning prevents pathetically poor performance.
Planning runs in my blood.
But this time, I would rather not be so prepared. I would rather throw the minimum of stuff into my car, take the road map, and set out. Some friends are traveling around the country this summer to various national parks and ministries, on their motorcycles. Wind in their faces, small bag and tent on the back.
My grandpa told me a few days ago about my Aunt Beth on her roadtrip from Illinois to Santa Fe when she had just graduated college. She packed her tiny car and the big swerving attached U-haul, complete with her plants, cat, and kittens. As she crossed through the states, the plants slowly died and the cat lost its voice from meowing too much. She slept in her car at truck stops, and when she needed to back up she asked the truckers to do it for her, since she hadn’t learned to back up a U-haul.
This version of travel, the unplanned, spontaneous, simplistic journeying (which brings with it many surprises) is much more attractive to me. It is wild, unbridled, carefree. It carries with it a load of freedom, instead of the burdens of expectations and control. The sojourner is expectant and eager to see what happens (because anything may happen!) in contrast to holding her expectations so tightly that they eventually bind and control her instead.
I am annoyed that my car is so tightly packed and that I will be referring to step-by-step directions. What’s more, I am annoyed at all the invisible baggage I am packing: worries about starting my new jobs, getting comfortable with my host family, making friends, fitting in with the church staff, missing friends, being wanted. I want freedom, but I am so scared to trust God with working out the little details. To put it bluntly, he isn’t enough for me. I want the acceptance of people and the ease of happiness. And I want the control to make these things happen. Uncertain of my ability to do so, I would still prefer not to let God have control. Who knows what might happen then!
Throwing out the clothes and photos and shampoo isn’t really an option. I am too much of a packrat, my parents would throw a fit, and I just don’t feel like carrying everything back upstairs. But leaving behind the addiction to control, the weighty expectations that everything must live up to (including me), is a viable option. It even looks attractive. If only I can stand to give it up.
This morning I read Isaiah 56. I am coming to love this chapter for how it affirms the place of foreigners and eunuchs in the house of God. Outcasts, orphans, loners are welcomed and provided for just as the people who already made the cut. The childless eunuch will have his name carried on forever, and the foreigner’s sacrifice will be accepted. The conditions, however, are placed high. Those who wish to dwell in God’s house of prayer, his perfect home, must hold fast to the covenant and keep the Sabbath without desecrating it. The LORD repeats this over and over to his people. We can’t have God on our terms.
What stuck out to me today was the command to keep the Sabbath. I think the Bible’s version of keeping the Sabbath is different than ours. Keeping the Sabbath in the Old Testament included leaving the crop fields fallow every 7 years, canceling debts every 50 years, and sacrificing firstfruits of crops to God while leaving behind extra for the widow and alien. A person had to rely on God for only a portion of their crop to be enough, and for the first 6 years to be enough for the 7th. If a person gained land or money through another’s debt, they could not keep it after the Year of Jubilee. Working on the Sabbath was forbidden so that people would be reminded weekly that their labor, crops, and therefore their very lives were in God’s hands, not their own. Trust was vital.
I believe that God’s insistent call to keep the Sabbath without desecrating it means to give to God what is God’s. He asks, historically, for the first, the best, the 10% tithe. But to give God what is due him, well, that is everything. That means, for me, giving him my desire for control. To keep the Sabbath, to trust God, to release control, is to find freedom and joy in God’s house of prayer. I may get lost, I may not find a second job, I may have no friends and be cast out on the street by my family (some outcomes less likely than others), but I dwell in God’s hands. Though I become a foreigner, an outcast, God will welcome me into his home.
Pray, oh please pray, for trust and the freedom, rest, and peace that follows. Pray for a joyful, reviving trip for Jess and me and all the people we meet.
July 9, 2009
my summer fascinations
Every few months, usually coordinating with school semesters and summer, I cycle through different fascinations or obsessions, with anything from foods to music to books to words to exercise options. This summer, I have accumulated a few new fascinations...
- Kitchen utensils with holes: colander, cheese grater, potato/carrot peeler
- My pandora playlist keyed to artists like Regina Spektor and Colbie Caillat
- The word "creep" and corresponding forms
- The book of Isaiah in the Bible
- Richard Foster, author of Celebration of Disciplines and Prayer
- Rice. My family doesn't usually eat a lot of rice, but when I cook, we do.
- Campfires with smores
- Watching lightning bugs
- Singing to the moon
- Being outside, gardening, mowing grass, walking around trees (not in circles--just near trees)
- Reading about and practicing prayer
- Reading for fun--that is unheard of! What a treat after PStrat!
- Going to libraries to use their wireless internet--I have been frequenting three local libraries, one of which I am currently in.
- Pilates
- Walking through my town--it's small enough that I can loop up and down various streets and crisscross and zigzag and eventually cover all the streets (and consequently creep on everyone)
- Breakfast food. I have decided that my new favorite food is breakfast food. One of my friends got married earlier this summer, and they did a morning wedding with a brunch reception. If or when I get married, I am strongly considering that because breakfast food is the BEST, hands down.
- In particular, I like shredded wheat with skim milk and home-canned peaches on top. Or, if we feel like cooking, pancakes with breakfast sausage and orange juice. (Yes, breakfast food is so amazing that it gets two bullet points.)
- Cooking. Clearly I have a lot of obsessions with food this summer, due in large part to my more frequent cooking. I cook dinner on nights when my mom works, and I get to make whatever I want, so I have been experimenting on my family. I think tonight I will grill chicken somehow...need to look up recipes online.
- The idea of "healthfulness," introduced by my roommate of this past year, Alyse. Healthful refers to anything that is life-giving and according to a good, natural order of life, not just the "healthy" foods or exercising. For example, I have decided that cooking and making my meals is very healthful, mostly because I am putting effort into the production of the meal, which teaches my mind that food is to be made and labored over and enjoyed in more than only the actual eating. All the different flavors and ingredients and savored in sight and smell, and it is rewarding to make my own meals instead of receiving them from a buffet line or a restaurant or take-out. I think cooking one's own meals is very healthful, not only in a physical way but also a mental and emotional and even relational way. Similarly, moving and using your body is healthful not just because of the physical benefits, but because our beings are connected--mind, body, heart, soul--so using my body is healthful because it makes me appreciate how useful my body can be and for how that usage benefits my mind and heart. Call me kooky, but this is the conclusion I have come to.
Apparently, I am on a kick of food and cooking and healthfulness this summer. Maybe that deserves its own post sometime.
- Kitchen utensils with holes: colander, cheese grater, potato/carrot peeler
- My pandora playlist keyed to artists like Regina Spektor and Colbie Caillat
- The word "creep" and corresponding forms
- The book of Isaiah in the Bible
- Richard Foster, author of Celebration of Disciplines and Prayer
- Rice. My family doesn't usually eat a lot of rice, but when I cook, we do.
- Campfires with smores
- Watching lightning bugs
- Singing to the moon
- Being outside, gardening, mowing grass, walking around trees (not in circles--just near trees)
- Reading about and practicing prayer
- Reading for fun--that is unheard of! What a treat after PStrat!
- Going to libraries to use their wireless internet--I have been frequenting three local libraries, one of which I am currently in.
- Pilates
- Walking through my town--it's small enough that I can loop up and down various streets and crisscross and zigzag and eventually cover all the streets (and consequently creep on everyone)
- Breakfast food. I have decided that my new favorite food is breakfast food. One of my friends got married earlier this summer, and they did a morning wedding with a brunch reception. If or when I get married, I am strongly considering that because breakfast food is the BEST, hands down.
- In particular, I like shredded wheat with skim milk and home-canned peaches on top. Or, if we feel like cooking, pancakes with breakfast sausage and orange juice. (Yes, breakfast food is so amazing that it gets two bullet points.)
- Cooking. Clearly I have a lot of obsessions with food this summer, due in large part to my more frequent cooking. I cook dinner on nights when my mom works, and I get to make whatever I want, so I have been experimenting on my family. I think tonight I will grill chicken somehow...need to look up recipes online.
- The idea of "healthfulness," introduced by my roommate of this past year, Alyse. Healthful refers to anything that is life-giving and according to a good, natural order of life, not just the "healthy" foods or exercising. For example, I have decided that cooking and making my meals is very healthful, mostly because I am putting effort into the production of the meal, which teaches my mind that food is to be made and labored over and enjoyed in more than only the actual eating. All the different flavors and ingredients and savored in sight and smell, and it is rewarding to make my own meals instead of receiving them from a buffet line or a restaurant or take-out. I think cooking one's own meals is very healthful, not only in a physical way but also a mental and emotional and even relational way. Similarly, moving and using your body is healthful not just because of the physical benefits, but because our beings are connected--mind, body, heart, soul--so using my body is healthful because it makes me appreciate how useful my body can be and for how that usage benefits my mind and heart. Call me kooky, but this is the conclusion I have come to.
Apparently, I am on a kick of food and cooking and healthfulness this summer. Maybe that deserves its own post sometime.
July 6, 2009
Fourth of July in the Boonies
A more formal title for this post would read "Fourth of July in the Boondocks," because "boonies" is a shortened form of "boondocks," meaning "a usually brushy rural area," "backwoods," "remote and undeveloped area," "very rural location or town," and "wilds, far-away spaces or that portion of the country which is fit only for the training of Marines"--or so my google definition tells me. Another definition is "where I live."
However, "boonies" had to be used for the title, for two reasons. First, in the boonies we don't use formal terms. We use the shortened slang, like "ain't." Second, Boondocks happens to be a local bar. Not just any local bar, mind you--the upscale bar in Gilman (population 1800). My town, Danforth (population 600), hosts the less classy bar--Maw and Paw's. However, Maw and Paw's recently put in a tiki garden, so their star is rising. At any rate, upscale or not, Boondocks in my mind is a bar, not a "very rural location."
Fourth of July in the boonies is generally an interesting occasion. Onarga, another local town (population 1400), hosts the area's Fourth festivities, including a parade, baby contest, and beer tent. In addition, many local families set off their own fireworks. Heck, out in the boonies, who's goin' ta care anyways?
Early in the week, my family was debating what to do for the Fourth. My sister Becca had been invited to go to Onarga with a friend, but just wasn't feeling the impulse to go. We usually go up to Kankakee Community College for their symphony concert on the college lawn and fireworks (a little less boonie-esque). We decided we would go to the city for our fireworks fix.
Tuesday, we were still enjoying summer in the boonies. The weather was perfect for a bonfire, and we have lots of sticks out here in the sticks. So we got out our lawn chairs and started up the fire (pronounced fah-er). Found the (homemade) marshmallow roasting sticks and dug out the graham crackers, marshmallows, and...wait...where's the Hershey's bars, guys?
So we had smores with semi-sweet chocolate chips instead.
Wednesday, Dad went to the store and bought Hershey's bars. That night, we had another fire and my friend Cait joined us. Cait has known our family for years, but is still occasionally taken aback by some of the unusual customs practiced in the boonies. First, the homemade roasting sticks were of interest, as were the stacks of firewood for the wood-burning stove (gotta keep warm in the winter).
Conversation drifted from our chickens, which are partly for eggs and partly for fried chicken (Dad butchers 6 each Saturday after they get big enough--currently 15 down, 11 to go)...Cait: "Are you doing more this Saturday? Can I come?" Dad: "Only 3 this Saturday, it's a holiday."
...to her trip to the Taste of Chicago where she ate a roast goat..."Wait, do you guys eat your goats?"...Dad: "No, we never have, but maybe we should consider it...hang em up on a spit above the fire."
...to the foods at a market she visited: "All sorts of exotic things--skinned rabbits, ox tails, ostrich eggs..." I had to ask her later what the other foods were, because all four of my family were exchanging looks and stifling laughter after "skinned rabbits"--four of these exotic creatures-turned-food are currently in our freezer. Not bought at a market, either--shot in our yard with my dad's rifle. Goodness gracious, honey, them thar hares'll eat yer garden right up if you don't take care of them!
Friday, my sister and I were sitting in her room on the second floor of our house, pretending to do something productive but really vegging out, when Becca says matter-of-factly, "There's a boy jumping on a trampoline." "What?" I turn around. "A boy, jumping on a trampoline," she repeats, pointing out the window. "What?" We don't have a trampoline, or a boy. Then I realize she is pointing to our neighbor's house, where, indeed, I can see a boy jumping on a trampoline.
Our neighbors live a 1/4 mile away.
Now, if you have never seen a boy jumping on a trampoline from 1/4 mile away, you are really missing out on the finer things in life. The bouncing effect is slowed a bit and quite relaxing when viewed from a distance. After awhile he stopped jumping and laid down on the trampoline, at which point we stopped creeping on him, though I had thought about getting the binoculars. But they were downstairs--too much effort.
Saturday, the Fourth of July, it rained in the Midwest. My sister went to the Onarga parade with her friend; they stood under an umbrella and collected the candy that came their way. Dad insisted it would stop raining in the afternoon. He checked the weather satellite online every hour (one of our new-fangled acquisitions out on the farm--we even have high speed internet!). Once afternoon began, he said it would stop in a half hour. He said that every half hour. The rain continued until about dusk. By then we had already decided to stay home from our big outing and watch a movie instead of going to the symphony and fireworks.
Sunday, we heard that the Onarga fireworks had been rescheduled for that night. Again, we debated going, but decided against it. In the evening, while we were watching TV, my family heard faint booming noises. We turned our entertainment pursuit in search of seeing fireworks out the windows. My parents hit up the second floor, peeking out the windows in all directions, while my sister and I headed east to the kitchen windows. "I see them!" A triumphant cry from Becca, stationed in the bathroom. We called my parents, and the four of us stood huddled in the small bathroom, some crouching and some on tiptoes to allow everyone a view of the great display. While we watched, we pondered whose fireworks they were. "Laurence's. They're Laurence's." I was convinced; he is the neighborhood hoodlum--lets his goats run loose and everything. My parents corrected me; it's probably Ashkum's fireworks, they probably got postponed too (Ashkum population 750). After awhile I agreed; the fireworks were quite good and the display went on longer than a single family would attempt. In fact, they lasted a good 10 minutes after we caught sight of them, the entirety of which we spent in the bathroom watching out the window, oohing and ahhing the whole time.
Happy Fourth of July, everyone! Here's to the boonies!
However, "boonies" had to be used for the title, for two reasons. First, in the boonies we don't use formal terms. We use the shortened slang, like "ain't." Second, Boondocks happens to be a local bar. Not just any local bar, mind you--the upscale bar in Gilman (population 1800). My town, Danforth (population 600), hosts the less classy bar--Maw and Paw's. However, Maw and Paw's recently put in a tiki garden, so their star is rising. At any rate, upscale or not, Boondocks in my mind is a bar, not a "very rural location."
Fourth of July in the boonies is generally an interesting occasion. Onarga, another local town (population 1400), hosts the area's Fourth festivities, including a parade, baby contest, and beer tent. In addition, many local families set off their own fireworks. Heck, out in the boonies, who's goin' ta care anyways?
Early in the week, my family was debating what to do for the Fourth. My sister Becca had been invited to go to Onarga with a friend, but just wasn't feeling the impulse to go. We usually go up to Kankakee Community College for their symphony concert on the college lawn and fireworks (a little less boonie-esque). We decided we would go to the city for our fireworks fix.
Tuesday, we were still enjoying summer in the boonies. The weather was perfect for a bonfire, and we have lots of sticks out here in the sticks. So we got out our lawn chairs and started up the fire (pronounced fah-er). Found the (homemade) marshmallow roasting sticks and dug out the graham crackers, marshmallows, and...wait...where's the Hershey's bars, guys?
So we had smores with semi-sweet chocolate chips instead.
Wednesday, Dad went to the store and bought Hershey's bars. That night, we had another fire and my friend Cait joined us. Cait has known our family for years, but is still occasionally taken aback by some of the unusual customs practiced in the boonies. First, the homemade roasting sticks were of interest, as were the stacks of firewood for the wood-burning stove (gotta keep warm in the winter).
Conversation drifted from our chickens, which are partly for eggs and partly for fried chicken (Dad butchers 6 each Saturday after they get big enough--currently 15 down, 11 to go)...Cait: "Are you doing more this Saturday? Can I come?" Dad: "Only 3 this Saturday, it's a holiday."
...to her trip to the Taste of Chicago where she ate a roast goat..."Wait, do you guys eat your goats?"...Dad: "No, we never have, but maybe we should consider it...hang em up on a spit above the fire."
...to the foods at a market she visited: "All sorts of exotic things--skinned rabbits, ox tails, ostrich eggs..." I had to ask her later what the other foods were, because all four of my family were exchanging looks and stifling laughter after "skinned rabbits"--four of these exotic creatures-turned-food are currently in our freezer. Not bought at a market, either--shot in our yard with my dad's rifle. Goodness gracious, honey, them thar hares'll eat yer garden right up if you don't take care of them!
Friday, my sister and I were sitting in her room on the second floor of our house, pretending to do something productive but really vegging out, when Becca says matter-of-factly, "There's a boy jumping on a trampoline." "What?" I turn around. "A boy, jumping on a trampoline," she repeats, pointing out the window. "What?" We don't have a trampoline, or a boy. Then I realize she is pointing to our neighbor's house, where, indeed, I can see a boy jumping on a trampoline.
Our neighbors live a 1/4 mile away.
Now, if you have never seen a boy jumping on a trampoline from 1/4 mile away, you are really missing out on the finer things in life. The bouncing effect is slowed a bit and quite relaxing when viewed from a distance. After awhile he stopped jumping and laid down on the trampoline, at which point we stopped creeping on him, though I had thought about getting the binoculars. But they were downstairs--too much effort.
Saturday, the Fourth of July, it rained in the Midwest. My sister went to the Onarga parade with her friend; they stood under an umbrella and collected the candy that came their way. Dad insisted it would stop raining in the afternoon. He checked the weather satellite online every hour (one of our new-fangled acquisitions out on the farm--we even have high speed internet!). Once afternoon began, he said it would stop in a half hour. He said that every half hour. The rain continued until about dusk. By then we had already decided to stay home from our big outing and watch a movie instead of going to the symphony and fireworks.
Sunday, we heard that the Onarga fireworks had been rescheduled for that night. Again, we debated going, but decided against it. In the evening, while we were watching TV, my family heard faint booming noises. We turned our entertainment pursuit in search of seeing fireworks out the windows. My parents hit up the second floor, peeking out the windows in all directions, while my sister and I headed east to the kitchen windows. "I see them!" A triumphant cry from Becca, stationed in the bathroom. We called my parents, and the four of us stood huddled in the small bathroom, some crouching and some on tiptoes to allow everyone a view of the great display. While we watched, we pondered whose fireworks they were. "Laurence's. They're Laurence's." I was convinced; he is the neighborhood hoodlum--lets his goats run loose and everything. My parents corrected me; it's probably Ashkum's fireworks, they probably got postponed too (Ashkum population 750). After awhile I agreed; the fireworks were quite good and the display went on longer than a single family would attempt. In fact, they lasted a good 10 minutes after we caught sight of them, the entirety of which we spent in the bathroom watching out the window, oohing and ahhing the whole time.
Happy Fourth of July, everyone! Here's to the boonies!
Wandering through the Lakes, Part 4: Home-loss and a Home
This summer, so far, has been a story of feeling rather homeless. I am not out on the street, by any means, but I have had to say goodbye to a dear home-Taylor-and many of my friends-become-family from that home. For two months, now down to three weeks, I am at my family's home. And in three weeks, I will be setting out for my new home in Fresno, CA, where I have no "family" to lean on, and which definitely isn't home yet--nor will it feel like home until I've been there awhile, I'm guessing. All of this shifting transition makes me feel like a wanderer, a sojourner, a pilgrim, a stranger, an alien--a homeless person at heart.
I felt this homelessness some during the first part of my summer. But while I was at Green Lake, it all blew up again, like a summer storm that had been hovering on the horizon, waiting to make its move. And then it came--replete with all of a summer storm's thunder, lightning, funky-colored clouds, pounding rains, and drastic temperature changes. Up at Green Lake, I was with dear friends who have become as family. Green Lake is a home for all of them, and some of their families live there, so home-like impressions abounded during the week. And Green Lake has become a refuge for me, as well, over the years I've known these girls. To be with my "family", in a semi-home, was beautiful. But this pre-mourner was well aware that she would be saying goodbyes soon, which dredged up the sensations of home-loss I had been feeling. Over the course of the week at Green Lake, there were many summer-storm-tears and my dolphin-friend comforted me in the raging waters. Her words of peace reminded me of my true home.
"Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations." -Psalm 90:1 [one of her favorites]
"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.' Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his [velvety] wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." -Psalm 91:1-4
"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging." -Psalm 46:1-3
"Hear my cry O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe. I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings. For you have heard my vows, O God; you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name." -Psalm 61:1-5
And a miraculous twist:
"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us." -John 1:14
As if it weren't enough that God himself offers to be our home and family, our refuge and dwelling place. But he chooses to dwell in us--he has made his home in me:
"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price." -1 Corinthians 6:19-20
I hate feeling homeless, like all my sturdy foundations are being swept out from under me. But I know that with that comes the precious gift of finding God as my deeper home.
I felt this homelessness some during the first part of my summer. But while I was at Green Lake, it all blew up again, like a summer storm that had been hovering on the horizon, waiting to make its move. And then it came--replete with all of a summer storm's thunder, lightning, funky-colored clouds, pounding rains, and drastic temperature changes. Up at Green Lake, I was with dear friends who have become as family. Green Lake is a home for all of them, and some of their families live there, so home-like impressions abounded during the week. And Green Lake has become a refuge for me, as well, over the years I've known these girls. To be with my "family", in a semi-home, was beautiful. But this pre-mourner was well aware that she would be saying goodbyes soon, which dredged up the sensations of home-loss I had been feeling. Over the course of the week at Green Lake, there were many summer-storm-tears and my dolphin-friend comforted me in the raging waters. Her words of peace reminded me of my true home.
"Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations." -Psalm 90:1 [one of her favorites]
"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.' Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his [velvety] wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." -Psalm 91:1-4
"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging." -Psalm 46:1-3
"Hear my cry O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe. I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings. For you have heard my vows, O God; you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name." -Psalm 61:1-5
And a miraculous twist:
"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us." -John 1:14
As if it weren't enough that God himself offers to be our home and family, our refuge and dwelling place. But he chooses to dwell in us--he has made his home in me:
"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price." -1 Corinthians 6:19-20
I hate feeling homeless, like all my sturdy foundations are being swept out from under me. But I know that with that comes the precious gift of finding God as my deeper home.
June 30, 2009
Wandering Through the Lakes, Part 3: Green Lake, Wisconsin
As I made my way into Wisconsin the signs for Pasties disappeared and signs for Cheese took their place. After an accidental detour, I reached Green Lake intact, despite much squealing and car-dancing over the last few miles. Heather was at Green Lake for a week; Megan and Anna both live and work there for the summer; so I drove up for the week so we could all be together for awhile. Heather graduated last year, and we had not seen her since; and the other three of us graduated this year. Beginning in the fall, the four of us will be in four different time zones in the US, and plans after next school year are sketch--so we wanted to get together before the diaspora occurred.
Our time this week was so much fun, so sweet, so peppered with lots of laughter and smiles and also tears, and so wandery as we walked all over the conference center grounds. Some highlights that make me smile were eating those tube popsicles at the Country Store on the "wonderful glider" with Heather, making spaghetti at Barbour House, baking cookies, having dinner with the Perkins and watching Get Smart, hanging out with Lisa and Kara, canoeing with Heather and Amanda, walking and hiking around, swimming extracurricularly, a long walk at night, our 7-layer bread bag picnic on the point, getting ice and coffee at the lodges, attempting to go to Quest services with all the girls, actually going to Quest services, going on the tram tour, making friends with Cynthia Anne Jarvis, sitting by the lake, pizza night, having dinner with the Percys, food court lunch with Anna, playing piano and singing with Anna, and just being with friends.
This week was so much fun for me, and so relaxing, which is odd because I am not doing much of anything this summer anyway. Being at Green Lake was a wonderful chance to breathe fresh air for awhile.
Our time this week was so much fun, so sweet, so peppered with lots of laughter and smiles and also tears, and so wandery as we walked all over the conference center grounds. Some highlights that make me smile were eating those tube popsicles at the Country Store on the "wonderful glider" with Heather, making spaghetti at Barbour House, baking cookies, having dinner with the Perkins and watching Get Smart, hanging out with Lisa and Kara, canoeing with Heather and Amanda, walking and hiking around, swimming extracurricularly, a long walk at night, our 7-layer bread bag picnic on the point, getting ice and coffee at the lodges, attempting to go to Quest services with all the girls, actually going to Quest services, going on the tram tour, making friends with Cynthia Anne Jarvis, sitting by the lake, pizza night, having dinner with the Percys, food court lunch with Anna, playing piano and singing with Anna, and just being with friends.
This week was so much fun for me, and so relaxing, which is odd because I am not doing much of anything this summer anyway. Being at Green Lake was a wonderful chance to breathe fresh air for awhile.
Wandering through the Lakes, Part 2: Diddlies Along the Way
I like the word "diddly". I don't think it really means anything, which is the whole point. To me, diddly is a noun which refers to a small melody, the corresponding lyrics, a quote, or other small phrases. I found lots of diddlies on my trip. Here are just a few.
Great Lakes, Great Times! --sign entering Michigan
There is hope for me yet...I have to wait and see. --song on the radio
Oh, it was summer time in northern Michigan. --song at the wedding which I sang as I drove through northern Michigan
All your life...you're only waiting for that moment to arrive. --anna's diddly which was someone else's first
Lord, you are good and your mercy endureth forever. --Taylor gospel choir diddly which the Quest band played while we did the motions
Loneliness and the feeling of being uncared for and unwanted is the greatest poverty. --Mother Teresa
Oh, to be all alone in a little cell... --song from Anna's recital
I was born to laugh. I learned to laugh through my tears. I was born to love. I'm gonna learn to love without fear. --another song
Make time...Make peace...Make believe... --poem by Ellen Kort--on the walls of a mall food court. oh, sacred space in artificial environments...
Great Lakes, Great Times! --sign entering Michigan
There is hope for me yet...I have to wait and see. --song on the radio
Oh, it was summer time in northern Michigan. --song at the wedding which I sang as I drove through northern Michigan
All your life...you're only waiting for that moment to arrive. --anna's diddly which was someone else's first
Lord, you are good and your mercy endureth forever. --Taylor gospel choir diddly which the Quest band played while we did the motions
Loneliness and the feeling of being uncared for and unwanted is the greatest poverty. --Mother Teresa
Oh, to be all alone in a little cell... --song from Anna's recital
I was born to laugh. I learned to laugh through my tears. I was born to love. I'm gonna learn to love without fear. --another song
Make time...Make peace...Make believe... --poem by Ellen Kort--on the walls of a mall food court. oh, sacred space in artificial environments...
First Road Trip: Wandering through the Lakes, Part 1
About a week and a half ago I set off on my first roadtrip of the summer. I made a loop around Lake Michigan, for the main purposes of going to Becky and Aaron Hoesli's wedding and a reunion with some Taylor friends in Wisconsin. But there were other sweet stops along the way. I started by heading to Grand Rapids, where I stayed with Leslie Smit, a 1WO alum. That night was filled with laughing as we got to catch up on each other's lives and adventures. Then I drove farther north to Walloon Lake, MI, where the wedding was. The wedding was absolutely beautiful, and I had so much fun celebrating the beginning of Becky and Aaron's marriage with them. Highlights included seeing Taylor friends Amanda, Sarah, Elisabeth, Alyse, and Alex; talking to Alyse's parents; and dancing a LOT. :) That night I stayed with Sarah Meisner and Elisabeth Duncan and an assortment of Becky's relatives at a cabin-place, and we went hot tubbing under the stars. On Sunday, I had my long drive over Mackinac Bridge and along Lake Michigan in the UP, then down into Wisconsin to Green Lake. I made a lot of random stops on the side of the road, stuck my feet in Lake Michigan (I have to do that at least once a summer), and spent my drive time praying over a lot that was on my heart.
This first leg of the journey, through Michigan, was tied closely to Isaiah 62:1-7:
"For Zion's sake I will not keep silent; for Jerusalem's sake I will not remain quiet, till her righteousness shines out like the dawn, her salvation like a blazing torch. The nations will see your righteousness, and all kings your glory; you will be called by a new name that the mouth of the Lord will bestow. You will be a crown of splendor in the Lord's hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God. No longer will they call you Deserted, and name your land Desolate; but you will be called Hephzibah, and your land Beulah, for the Lord will take Delight in you, and your land will be Married. As a young man marries a maiden, so will your Builder marry you; as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God marry you. I have posted watchmen on your walls, O Jerusalem; they will never be silent day or night. You who call on the Lord, give yourselves no rest, and give him no rest, until he establishes Jerusalem and makes her the praise of the earth."
When reading this passage, I was struck by the first and last parts. God says he will not keep quiet, for Jerusalem's sake, until her righteousness (vindication) and salvation (rescue) are made bright and shiny like the sun. Then at the end, he calls his people, his praying watchmen, to never be quiet. They are to call on him day and night, never resting--and they are so impertinent that they will not let him rest, until he does what he said he would do! God and his people are partnering together, interceding for Jerusalem (or the Church), discontent to give up or be quiet until she is made beautiful. The middle of the passage describes this beauty. Jerusalem, Zion, is adorned as a bride, all bright and shiny with royal diadems and splendorous crowns, glorious and blazing with light. She is married, chosen and treasured; delighted in, not deserted or desolate or destitute.
As I traveled, I made prayer my aim: to be unceasing in calling on God to do what he promised. As I watched Becky walk down the aisle, bright and shiny with sparkling diadems, to be married by the one who treasures her and delights in her, I was brimming over with excitement and joy both for her and Aaron, and for the Church.
I want desperately to be chosen and delighted in, and for the Church to be made beautiful and complete. I want to have the zeal and passion to never be silent, day or night, in interceding with the Spirit for God's people.
This first leg of the journey, through Michigan, was tied closely to Isaiah 62:1-7:
"For Zion's sake I will not keep silent; for Jerusalem's sake I will not remain quiet, till her righteousness shines out like the dawn, her salvation like a blazing torch. The nations will see your righteousness, and all kings your glory; you will be called by a new name that the mouth of the Lord will bestow. You will be a crown of splendor in the Lord's hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God. No longer will they call you Deserted, and name your land Desolate; but you will be called Hephzibah, and your land Beulah, for the Lord will take Delight in you, and your land will be Married. As a young man marries a maiden, so will your Builder marry you; as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God marry you. I have posted watchmen on your walls, O Jerusalem; they will never be silent day or night. You who call on the Lord, give yourselves no rest, and give him no rest, until he establishes Jerusalem and makes her the praise of the earth."
When reading this passage, I was struck by the first and last parts. God says he will not keep quiet, for Jerusalem's sake, until her righteousness (vindication) and salvation (rescue) are made bright and shiny like the sun. Then at the end, he calls his people, his praying watchmen, to never be quiet. They are to call on him day and night, never resting--and they are so impertinent that they will not let him rest, until he does what he said he would do! God and his people are partnering together, interceding for Jerusalem (or the Church), discontent to give up or be quiet until she is made beautiful. The middle of the passage describes this beauty. Jerusalem, Zion, is adorned as a bride, all bright and shiny with royal diadems and splendorous crowns, glorious and blazing with light. She is married, chosen and treasured; delighted in, not deserted or desolate or destitute.
As I traveled, I made prayer my aim: to be unceasing in calling on God to do what he promised. As I watched Becky walk down the aisle, bright and shiny with sparkling diadems, to be married by the one who treasures her and delights in her, I was brimming over with excitement and joy both for her and Aaron, and for the Church.
I want desperately to be chosen and delighted in, and for the Church to be made beautiful and complete. I want to have the zeal and passion to never be silent, day or night, in interceding with the Spirit for God's people.
June 15, 2009
Lizzy's Christening
I have finally named my car. It is only appropriate that this happen, because I am about to take it on a roadtrip through Michigan, west across the UP, to eastern Wisconsin, hitting important lakes on the way--Walloon Lake for a wedding, Green Lake for a family reunion of sorts. Later this summer, we'll go on an even longer roadtrip, from Illinois to California. Anyway, I have named my car. Her name is Lizzy. This is taken partly from my middle name, Elizabeth, because I love that name and the nickname Liz. But I would never go by Lizzy; yet it seems suitable for a car. Lizzy makes me think of the Tin Lizzy, a quirky, whimsical ice cream place near Taylor. The Tin Lizzy has one up on the glider rocking chairs--it has entire picnic tables on gliders. Also, the Tin Lizzy is on the way to our country church at Taylor--Southern Wells Community Church. We used to go to church in an old beater conversion van called Blue Steel. Sometimes the doors would stick shut; others times they wouldn't shut and we'd hold them while we rode. Blue Steel took us in the ditch three times on one adventure to church (we excuse this because it was very icy out). Blue Steel is also the source of an embarrassing moment with Megan, which just doesn't need to be hashed out here. It's better in person.
All this to say...Elizabeth made me think of Liz which made me think of Lizzy which made me think of the Tin Lizzy which made me think of Blue Steel which was itself a proudly-named vehicle. So Lizzy is thus perfect for my car: the eclectic combination of broken-down vans, gliding picnic tables, country adventures, miniature statues of liberty, Taylor memories, ice cream, and an extension of myself.
After naming Lizzy, I laid hands on her and prayed for her, that she would not break down on any trips, as she sometimes does not like to start. This is not the first time I have prayed for Lizzy, but it is the first time with her name-a kind of christening, if you will. Maybe she will take better to running for me now that she is named.
All this to say...Elizabeth made me think of Liz which made me think of Lizzy which made me think of the Tin Lizzy which made me think of Blue Steel which was itself a proudly-named vehicle. So Lizzy is thus perfect for my car: the eclectic combination of broken-down vans, gliding picnic tables, country adventures, miniature statues of liberty, Taylor memories, ice cream, and an extension of myself.
After naming Lizzy, I laid hands on her and prayed for her, that she would not break down on any trips, as she sometimes does not like to start. This is not the first time I have prayed for Lizzy, but it is the first time with her name-a kind of christening, if you will. Maybe she will take better to running for me now that she is named.
50 Bible People...or something like that
I am, as you probably know, at home this summer doing much of nothing. But recently, a job unexpectedly fell into my lap--the perfect job for right now. My uncle makes websites for people, and two random Christian guys--not even an organization--want to make a Christian website. My uncle described them as "one is pretty religious, and the other is a born-again-type." They want to have all sorts of resources and prayer cards on the website. And they also want a section for kids, with 50 people-from-the-Bible-you-should-know. Each of the 50 people will have a notecard size bio. My uncle said they were trying to think of someone who knew something about "youth religion", and he remembered me. So I got asked to choose the 50 people and write their bios! I was thrilled to be thought of, to have something to do that is so up my alley, and to even get paid for it!
Then I sat down to work on this project. Choosing 50 important people from the Bible proved difficult. First, there's the title issue--what do I title my Word document? I refuse to call them characters--they were real people. But 50 Bible People is pretty lacking. 50 People You Should Know, Who Happen to Be From the Bible? 50 People from the Hall of Faith? Everything sounds cheesy and like a storybook. I don't want these people to sound like made-up-characters. If you have any ideas, please, help me out. You don't want these people to be discredited, either, do you now?
After the title-not yet solidified-I started on the list. Of course I have to put the obvious people. My uncle said "you should probably start with Adam and Eve..." So they were the first two. And I couldn't leave out Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob...or Moses and David...or the typical kid favorites like Jonah and Daniel...had to put in Paul, and Mary the mother of Jesus...oh yeah, and Jesus himself. Why are these always the first people to come to mind, the case studies in Sunday School and VBS? Are they more important than the others, more faithful? Or just easier to tell stories about and put on a felt board? What does God think of me picking and choosing from among his saints? What about Ezra, Micah, Nicodemus, all the "no-name" people of the Bible? Should I put in Ahab or Samson or "bad" Bible people who displayed less admirable characteristics? Not many people think of Thomas, because he supposedly doubted so much. But Peter, who denied knowing Jesus, always makes the cut. And where on earth are all the ladies???
The last question was the easiest to solve. I am, I admit it, a feminist (of sorts). So I wanted to make a special point to put in women from the Bible. There's Eve, and Mary. Sarah, Rebecca, wives of the patriarchs. Also Ruth, Naomi, Esther, Mary Magdalene, Mary and Martha, Lydia who sells purple cloth, and Priscila married to Aquila. Those women are fairly admirable (minus the foreigners, demon-possessed, and house-work-obsessed traits). Then we move on to Rachel and Leah, who fought over everything from who would sleep with Jacob to their sons' mandrakes (mandrakes?! I thought those were only in Harry Potter...)...not to mention that Rachel stole her father's gold. Rahab was a prostitute, Bathsheba was an adulterer, and Tamar masqueraded as a prostitute in order to commit incest and keep the family line going--nice list of role models for my little girls. And those last three women are all in the ancestry of Jesus! Though the men are just as sketchy, the minimal mention of women in the Bible makes them look incredibly racy. The only five women mentioned in Jesus' ancestry are Tamar, Rabab, Ruth, Bathsheba, and Mary: incest, prostitution, lies, adultery, foreign blood, and a pristine virgin. How exactly did Mary make it in?
So my list of women came together quickly, though I had to decide who to omit in order to keep the website G-rated. See you later, Tamar...for more on her, we have to read Francine Rivers. http://www.amazon.com/Unveiled-Unashamed-Unshaken-Unspoken-Bathsheba/dp/0842371109
I sound as if I am boasting about the failings and offenses of these women. And, to a certain extent, I am. I wish there were more of the pristine virgins, I really do. But how many girls and women actually have that life, or feel they could attain it? Women like Bathsheba, Rahab, even Tamar, are an incredible encouragement to me. They messed up. A lot. Even after they were included in the covenant community. But God welcomes in all...the foreigners, the outcasts of religious society, the sexually broken, the liars, the jealous, the overworked who believe they have no value apart from work, the ones who laugh at God's promises, those who don't really trust anyone, those who get plenty of hard knocks from life...all those, right along with the pristine girl, who, we rarely realize, feels guilty or has a secret no one knows. Mary fits right in with the rest of us. God chooses them, and uses them, and lets their names be placed in the lineage of the Messiah. So I am proud of these women. I claim their heritage as messed-up people who are redeemed, bought back for a ransom.
As for the men, I'm still working on them. :) A roughly chronological, rough draft list follows...
And let me know--who do you think of when you think of people from the Bible?
Then I sat down to work on this project. Choosing 50 important people from the Bible proved difficult. First, there's the title issue--what do I title my Word document? I refuse to call them characters--they were real people. But 50 Bible People is pretty lacking. 50 People You Should Know, Who Happen to Be From the Bible? 50 People from the Hall of Faith? Everything sounds cheesy and like a storybook. I don't want these people to sound like made-up-characters. If you have any ideas, please, help me out. You don't want these people to be discredited, either, do you now?
After the title-not yet solidified-I started on the list. Of course I have to put the obvious people. My uncle said "you should probably start with Adam and Eve..." So they were the first two. And I couldn't leave out Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob...or Moses and David...or the typical kid favorites like Jonah and Daniel...had to put in Paul, and Mary the mother of Jesus...oh yeah, and Jesus himself. Why are these always the first people to come to mind, the case studies in Sunday School and VBS? Are they more important than the others, more faithful? Or just easier to tell stories about and put on a felt board? What does God think of me picking and choosing from among his saints? What about Ezra, Micah, Nicodemus, all the "no-name" people of the Bible? Should I put in Ahab or Samson or "bad" Bible people who displayed less admirable characteristics? Not many people think of Thomas, because he supposedly doubted so much. But Peter, who denied knowing Jesus, always makes the cut. And where on earth are all the ladies???
The last question was the easiest to solve. I am, I admit it, a feminist (of sorts). So I wanted to make a special point to put in women from the Bible. There's Eve, and Mary. Sarah, Rebecca, wives of the patriarchs. Also Ruth, Naomi, Esther, Mary Magdalene, Mary and Martha, Lydia who sells purple cloth, and Priscila married to Aquila. Those women are fairly admirable (minus the foreigners, demon-possessed, and house-work-obsessed traits). Then we move on to Rachel and Leah, who fought over everything from who would sleep with Jacob to their sons' mandrakes (mandrakes?! I thought those were only in Harry Potter...)...not to mention that Rachel stole her father's gold. Rahab was a prostitute, Bathsheba was an adulterer, and Tamar masqueraded as a prostitute in order to commit incest and keep the family line going--nice list of role models for my little girls. And those last three women are all in the ancestry of Jesus! Though the men are just as sketchy, the minimal mention of women in the Bible makes them look incredibly racy. The only five women mentioned in Jesus' ancestry are Tamar, Rabab, Ruth, Bathsheba, and Mary: incest, prostitution, lies, adultery, foreign blood, and a pristine virgin. How exactly did Mary make it in?
So my list of women came together quickly, though I had to decide who to omit in order to keep the website G-rated. See you later, Tamar...for more on her, we have to read Francine Rivers. http://www.amazon.com/Unveiled-Unashamed-Unshaken-Unspoken-Bathsheba/dp/0842371109
I sound as if I am boasting about the failings and offenses of these women. And, to a certain extent, I am. I wish there were more of the pristine virgins, I really do. But how many girls and women actually have that life, or feel they could attain it? Women like Bathsheba, Rahab, even Tamar, are an incredible encouragement to me. They messed up. A lot. Even after they were included in the covenant community. But God welcomes in all...the foreigners, the outcasts of religious society, the sexually broken, the liars, the jealous, the overworked who believe they have no value apart from work, the ones who laugh at God's promises, those who don't really trust anyone, those who get plenty of hard knocks from life...all those, right along with the pristine girl, who, we rarely realize, feels guilty or has a secret no one knows. Mary fits right in with the rest of us. God chooses them, and uses them, and lets their names be placed in the lineage of the Messiah. So I am proud of these women. I claim their heritage as messed-up people who are redeemed, bought back for a ransom.
As for the men, I'm still working on them. :) A roughly chronological, rough draft list follows...
And let me know--who do you think of when you think of people from the Bible?
- Adam
- Eve
- Abraham
- Sarah
- Noah
- Isaac
- Rebecca
- Jacob
- Rachel
- Leah
- Joseph
- Moses
- Aaron
- Joshua
- Rahab
- Deborah
- Ruth
- Hannah
- Samuel
- Saul
- David
- Bathsheba
- Jonathan
- Solomon
- Job
- Elijah
- Joash
- Hosea
- Jonah
- Isaiah
- Jeremiah
- Esther
- Daniel
- Nehemiah
- Ezra
- Elizabeth
- Mary the mother of Jesus
- Jesus
- John the Baptist
- Nicodemus
- Peter
- John the beloved
- Thomas
- Andrew
- Mary Magdalene
- Mary
- Martha
- James the leader of Jerusalem church
- Paul
- Philip the evangelist
- Stephen the Martyr
- Luke the physician
- Timothy
- Lydia the seller of purple cloth
- Priscilla
June 12, 2009
an argumentative atheist, full faith or fluffy feelings, and God's goodness
I am doing a summer book club with some of my friends from 1WO at Taylor. We are reading books about Christianity which are also challenging or controversial; starting off with an atheist reading and Christian response, and continuing on to some postmodern works. The first book we read was Letter to a Christian Nation, by Sam Harris. He writes to an audience of American Christians, explaining why our faith is not valid and is, in fact, even harmful. While the writing seemed to ramble and be unorganized, the short book made many pointed remarks about Christianity in America. I say Christianity in America because he often compared how America, a civilized Western nation, retains a large religious influence and is also one of the few Western countries which still has much corruption and crime. Among his arguments were explanations of how religions are wishful thinking, Christians are often hypocrites, Christianity is used as a platform for religious extremists in ways that hurt others, and the Bible contains many errors, unscientific claims, and oppressive advice (think slavery, women, ethnicity). Basically, he asserts that Christians are not good, God is not good, and so Christianity is not good for our country. Reason, on the other hand, leads to clear thinking which sees the Bible, Christianity, and all religions in general for the fallacies they are. Freed from these binding beliefs which lead to harm and hurt, people can be good and kind.
I agreed with many of Harris' claims about Christians not being good. Christianity has a bad rep, due to participation or influence in things like the Crusades, the Holocaust, slavery in the South, and hate directed against homosexuality and abortion. Christianity, taken to extremes, has hurt many, and continues to hurt many. Christians can be very bad. We do have a bad nature still at work, after all; we resist God's goodness and prefer our own badness. And even God seems to be bad. Given all the atrocities in our world, surely God would step in and do something. He does not, so he must be either too weak, eliminating his claims to be God, or he is too mean or indifferent to care. I know firsthand what it is like to think this way about God, as devastating times have come and gone in my life. But ultimately, I had to cling to the belief that God is all good. He is with me, constantly, even in the lowest valleys and the dryest deserts, and what's more, he is doing good things even in those places. This same God, who is all good, transforms Christians to be good, as he is good.
Still, as I read this Letter, I couldn't help but wonder if I only believed in a good God because it makes me feel better. Trusting in God gives me hope and purpose; it means I am never alone, that someone very important and reliable loves me and cares for me; it provides a way to see the world and live my life. I have felt the same nagging doubts recently about the way I encounter and experience God. Does he really speak to me, or is it just my own imaginative, idealistic way of thinking? Do I converse with him, or with myself? Does God really heal and speak through prophecy, or is it just a bunch of coincidences that make us feel good about God? Do my Christian friends and I interact with God, or just get caught up in emotion? In short, is God's presence and action in my life real, or just a way I can be emotionally stable amidst the desperation of life?
I spent a night last weekend with one of my professors from Taylor and his wife, on my way to a friend's wedding. My time with them came at just the right time, in the middle of confusion about God being an emotional crutch; about my time at home being void of community, purpose, and vitality; about the loss of my community, home, and spiritual encouragement at Taylor. The three hour car drive allowed me to experience my emotions again (rather than pushing them down as I do at home) and to reflect on the two weeks since leaving Taylor. By the time I reached Upland, I was running ragged.
With Dr. Heth and Susie, we shared stories of what God did over the past school year and what he is still doing. We talked about the Thursday night group that met for worship, prayer, and ministry; they are continuing for the summer on Wednesdays, with a slightly different crowd. We talked about how God healed Joy, how he spoke through prophecy to encourage so many of us, how he healed so many Taylor students from depression and anxiety, how God gives people visions and dreams, how God gave us the desire to be with him and experience his love and power, how he continually provides, how he gives perseverance to seek him and a community in the middle of doubts. We talked about my friend Jess and I, who have both seen God miraculously bring light in the middle of dark storms, and we talked about how God has used both of us during and after those times. We talked about the Holy Spirit. We talked about how God is working so intricately with so many people at Taylor to bring a realization of his Spirit's presence. It's nothing new; it's been going on since Kyle Martin and others prayed for revival at Taylor, in the trees where the new Memorial Prayer Chapel has been built. It's been going on since February 2006 when Taylor had 48 hours of prayer and the tiny old prayer chapel (the beautiful one) was a haven for pray-ers and doubters alike, and God came and amazed us. It's been going on since last fall when Jess and I were meeting with Dr. Heth, and Sam and Angela were learning about prophecy. It's been going on since January, when some people from Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry came to talk about the charismatic gifts and prophecy, and then a guy (who is crazy and sweet) stood on a chair and yelled an invitation, "Hey, if anyone wants to keep meeting and do this more, stick around!"
I love seeing and hearing and remembering how God's Spirit is raining on Taylor in a new way. (Hosea 6:1-3) I love the stories and testimonies of his healing and speaking and nudging and working so much good. The stories help me remember that there is too much good going on for it to be simply coincidence or human power. They make me feel better, yes, but only because they strengthen my faith and confidence in God. Only God can do these things. He's not just a coping tool that we made up--he's real. In my doubt and confusion, God reminded me again that he is present in this world, in my life, and that he does only good things. He will need to keep reminding me, because I am forgetful. But I am so thankful to have seen again that God is all good.
I agreed with many of Harris' claims about Christians not being good. Christianity has a bad rep, due to participation or influence in things like the Crusades, the Holocaust, slavery in the South, and hate directed against homosexuality and abortion. Christianity, taken to extremes, has hurt many, and continues to hurt many. Christians can be very bad. We do have a bad nature still at work, after all; we resist God's goodness and prefer our own badness. And even God seems to be bad. Given all the atrocities in our world, surely God would step in and do something. He does not, so he must be either too weak, eliminating his claims to be God, or he is too mean or indifferent to care. I know firsthand what it is like to think this way about God, as devastating times have come and gone in my life. But ultimately, I had to cling to the belief that God is all good. He is with me, constantly, even in the lowest valleys and the dryest deserts, and what's more, he is doing good things even in those places. This same God, who is all good, transforms Christians to be good, as he is good.
Still, as I read this Letter, I couldn't help but wonder if I only believed in a good God because it makes me feel better. Trusting in God gives me hope and purpose; it means I am never alone, that someone very important and reliable loves me and cares for me; it provides a way to see the world and live my life. I have felt the same nagging doubts recently about the way I encounter and experience God. Does he really speak to me, or is it just my own imaginative, idealistic way of thinking? Do I converse with him, or with myself? Does God really heal and speak through prophecy, or is it just a bunch of coincidences that make us feel good about God? Do my Christian friends and I interact with God, or just get caught up in emotion? In short, is God's presence and action in my life real, or just a way I can be emotionally stable amidst the desperation of life?
I spent a night last weekend with one of my professors from Taylor and his wife, on my way to a friend's wedding. My time with them came at just the right time, in the middle of confusion about God being an emotional crutch; about my time at home being void of community, purpose, and vitality; about the loss of my community, home, and spiritual encouragement at Taylor. The three hour car drive allowed me to experience my emotions again (rather than pushing them down as I do at home) and to reflect on the two weeks since leaving Taylor. By the time I reached Upland, I was running ragged.
With Dr. Heth and Susie, we shared stories of what God did over the past school year and what he is still doing. We talked about the Thursday night group that met for worship, prayer, and ministry; they are continuing for the summer on Wednesdays, with a slightly different crowd. We talked about how God healed Joy, how he spoke through prophecy to encourage so many of us, how he healed so many Taylor students from depression and anxiety, how God gives people visions and dreams, how God gave us the desire to be with him and experience his love and power, how he continually provides, how he gives perseverance to seek him and a community in the middle of doubts. We talked about my friend Jess and I, who have both seen God miraculously bring light in the middle of dark storms, and we talked about how God has used both of us during and after those times. We talked about the Holy Spirit. We talked about how God is working so intricately with so many people at Taylor to bring a realization of his Spirit's presence. It's nothing new; it's been going on since Kyle Martin and others prayed for revival at Taylor, in the trees where the new Memorial Prayer Chapel has been built. It's been going on since February 2006 when Taylor had 48 hours of prayer and the tiny old prayer chapel (the beautiful one) was a haven for pray-ers and doubters alike, and God came and amazed us. It's been going on since last fall when Jess and I were meeting with Dr. Heth, and Sam and Angela were learning about prophecy. It's been going on since January, when some people from Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry came to talk about the charismatic gifts and prophecy, and then a guy (who is crazy and sweet) stood on a chair and yelled an invitation, "Hey, if anyone wants to keep meeting and do this more, stick around!"
I love seeing and hearing and remembering how God's Spirit is raining on Taylor in a new way. (Hosea 6:1-3) I love the stories and testimonies of his healing and speaking and nudging and working so much good. The stories help me remember that there is too much good going on for it to be simply coincidence or human power. They make me feel better, yes, but only because they strengthen my faith and confidence in God. Only God can do these things. He's not just a coping tool that we made up--he's real. In my doubt and confusion, God reminded me again that he is present in this world, in my life, and that he does only good things. He will need to keep reminding me, because I am forgetful. But I am so thankful to have seen again that God is all good.
June 4, 2009
wait and see
I am home for the summer, in my country home, near my population-600-hometown. Here, there are no coffeeshops or WalMarts within 30 minutes, infinite cornfields and beanfields and farmers, and certainly no population of college kids. Here, I have no job or other occupying activity, one friend from high school, and very little stimulation. Here, I do have my family of four, our house, and our little farm (complete with gardens, chickens, and goats). And here I stay for the next few months. So far it has been nice to do nothing. But at times this summer looks and feels like a wasteland, and at those times I can't wait to roadtrip across the country to my new home in Fresno, CA. Fresno may be in a desert, but at least they irrigate for crops and have swimming pools. Danforth seems to be streamless. So I am learning to wait on God, as he promises me that he will make streams and gardens (even Eden!) if I will only wait and see.
As I spend time at home, waiting and seeing, I intend to read and write a lot. Read and write--I just finished a semester of the most intense reading and writing I have ever done, culminating in my 80 pages senior paper! I guess it is addictive.
Wait and see. Thoreau says, "Let us spend one day as deliberately as nature." To spend even a day deliberately, being as fully myself as a daisy is itself (which comes so simply to a daisy), is a challenge. Even moreso when the day is a summer, and the activity to be done deliberately is waiting. But this is my desire: that I would deliberately wait for the streams, and wholeheartedly see what God has to show in the wasteland.
As I spend time at home, waiting and seeing, I intend to read and write a lot. Read and write--I just finished a semester of the most intense reading and writing I have ever done, culminating in my 80 pages senior paper! I guess it is addictive.
Wait and see. Thoreau says, "Let us spend one day as deliberately as nature." To spend even a day deliberately, being as fully myself as a daisy is itself (which comes so simply to a daisy), is a challenge. Even moreso when the day is a summer, and the activity to be done deliberately is waiting. But this is my desire: that I would deliberately wait for the streams, and wholeheartedly see what God has to show in the wasteland.
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