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.
July 25, 2009
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.
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