It Started With a Christmas Present

My favorite Clark Gable film so far is "It Started In Naples" with Sophia Loren and the most hilarious little Italian boy you will ever see on film. Ryan gave it to me for Christmas, to which I exclaimed: "Oh, I love Clark Gable!" Gable made this film in 1960-his second to last film. Gable finds himself in Italy to take care of his deceased brother's estate. What he finds is an 8-year-old Italian boy (his nephew) that doesn't go to school because it starts to early, smokes, drinks, and curses. I was in love. Gable also finds, of course, Sophia Loren, the little boy's guardian. The love story was predictable, but I think the reason I liked this movie so much was because of the Italian boy and the fact that they were on the Island of Capri, which made me think of Elizabeth Gilbert's travels in the book I'm reading: Eat, Pray, Love. The entire Eat section is devoted to her travels in Italy.

Italy seems like a fun place to be. Gable is annoyed, at first, by the parties that go all night in the streets and the fact that he can't speak Italian (which is the world's most beautiful language-again, read Eat Pray Love.) But he comes around and gets the best of both worlds when he decides to stay with Loren and the Italian boy on Capri. My dad would also like me to mention that it is a very colorful film; he kept coming into the living room and exclaiming: "It's so colorful!" Yes, Father, the beauty of VistaVision in the 60's. So yes, you can borrow "It Started in Naples" if you would like, seeing that it is the first Clark Gable movie that I own. It's worth watching just to laugh at how much the Italian people yell at each other, including the 8-year-old.

I met Pam Beasley today at Family Hair Care. No, not Jenna Fischer....a real Pam. I was sitting next to this woman as we were waiting for our hair to continue to dye and we started talking about how she is from Michigan and here for her brother-in-law's wedding. Come to find out that she is a receptionist and an artist and her husband proposed to her after 5 years of being 'just friends.' She did actually look like Pam too. She was so nice! I told her to watch the office. She told me that she liked talking to me and to have a nice life.

Next Gable movie: "Mutiny on the Bounty."

Inevitably

"Gone with the Wind" or The Southern Version of Days of our Lives or The Movie with 18,000 Deaths. Four hours, two meals, and one nap later, I have finished the Scarlet O'Hara Saga, to be aired later this month in segments as an E! True Hollywood Story because Lord knows that the whole thing wouldn't be able to fit in a one hour show. OK, so, this isn't going to be a rant about what I just watched. I will stick strictly to Mr. Gable; if I don't, just slap your computer or something.

It started off all good and well-the classic 'love/hate' story. I knew that Scarlet was going to get annoying, but I didn't think I would have to follow her through three marriages and, as stated before, 18,000 deaths. I liked Gable's character, I mean, we're supposed to like him even if he is somewhat of a sleaze....but he grows out of that and we all have hopes for Scarlet's spoiled nature to leave. I think I liked Rhett Butler because I've only seen Gable play the atypical, quiet hero-the bad boy role was good for him, and I hope some of his other characters are a little shady in my upcoming viewings of movies of his that are only an hour and a half long. And I have to admit, I was confused for at least two hours by why he loved Scarlet so much. Then came the scene when he said that they were exactly alike, and I nodded my head in approval to the writers. 'Yes, I can see that. And she'll come around, and you will make sure that, even though it may seem impossible, they will end up together in the end like you always do, writer men and women.' Well, they were together, but the movie just couldn't end there...I mean, we're talking about the death of the South, so I guess that means everyone has to die, including marriages and unborn babies.

I kept waiting for the "Frankly my dear, I just don't give a damn" line, and I started to imagine it in all sorts of different contexts as the movie started to throw me for a loop as I moved on to disc two. I imagined it in the context of Rhett telling Scarlet that he didn't care if she loved another man, that he was indeed going to marry her. I tried to imagine it when he was telling her that he was going off to war and that he didn't care if he was shot. I tried to imagine it when he was taking their daughter, Bonnie, off to London. Nope. None of those. But when does the line come up? At the end, which is fine, but it's when he is LEAVING her, and he doesn't give a damn about that! Yes he does! I understand that you've been through a lot, Rhett, but she's finally telling you that she loves you and you should give a damn! (Imagine me ironing clothes, watching daytime tv, and yelling those same things at the Days of Our Live characters-yep, exactly the same thing) And THEN, to make matters even worse, Scarlet realizes that she can just go home. Go home to her Tara, to her beautiful plantation. THAT'S the moral of the story? Land? Dirt in your fist? TARA??!? Whatever, Scarlet, whatever.

Ok, so I both understand and applaud the efforts to make this a not happy movie. The character development was quite good, and even I admit that I subscribe to a post-modern archetypal 'everything works out in the end' BAM end of character development story line, but I'm just not a fan.

The Winter Snows are Coming!

That's a common fear in the Yukon, but people are going crazy for 'a pich of the yellow stuff' in "Call of the Wild." I streamed this movie from Netflix, was settling down in my bed, expecting the same caliber of film as "The Tall Men." I was immediately excited that it was in black and white (1935). I don't know why it didn't click that, because this movie was made exactly 20 years before Tall Men, Clark Gable woud look a considerable amout younger. When he entered on screen, very slim, very dressed up, and very scruffy, I literally jumped up toward the computer screen for a closer look and thought "That's Clark Gable?!" It was the difference from this to this:

He played the same character, except this time there was snow to think of, dogs to mush, and gold to find. He knew everything about the Alaskan wilderness, just like he knew everything about the wild west. He was also flanked with a sidekick similar to the one in Tall Men. The love story was a bit more complicated in this one: woman who lost her husband on the trail, then said husband shows up after Gable and woman are in love. Throughout the entire movie Gable and "Mrs. Blake" keep referring to the metaphor of the 'Yukon Law'-whatever you need, you take, even if it's from someone else. She doesn't think this is very fair, whether the law concerns food or people's former wives, but falls in love with him anyway. And I mean, come on, you're in an abandoned shack mining for gold with 1935 Clark Gable and he keeps staring at you....I don't blame you. Her husband shows up and she does the right thing: leaves with him, promising Gable they will see each other. But the movie ends with Gable's sidekick coming back for him.


All in all, it was a good flick; the dialogue is still what drives all of these movies because they didn't have much in the area of special effects. I think I'm going to come up with some sort of 'scoring' chart-you know, akin to 5 stars or something.

Hello, Mr. Gable

The first Clark Gable movie I watched was "The Tall Men." It's a Western: they drive cattle from Texas to Montana with the usual trouble of Jayhawkers (rock chock, KU, anyone?) and the Sioux. Clark Gable plays Ben Allison, an outlaw turned right by a man who is offering him money to be a trail boss and lead the thousands of cattle and men to Montana.

Of Course, there is a love interest. Her name is Nella and she's played by Jane Russell (picture to the left), who my grandfather knows. Yeah, not kidding. I told my dad about my Clark Gable moving watching over break and he immediately called my grandfather and told him I watched "The Tall Men," after which Grandpa told me that he knows Jane Russell and that his other good friend, Dale Robertson, was supposed to play the lead in the movie, not Clark Gable. All of these names probably mean nothing to you, but let's equate Jane Russell as the 1930's and 40's version of Meg Ryan. Dale Robertson is a very famous cowboy, which makes sense that he would be offered the part since most of the movie is built around the journey to Montana with cattle. How does my grandfather know them, you ask? Well, let's just say that when you drive up to my grandparents house, one of the first things you will see is a stake in the very front of their yard from The Great American Cattle Drive. Oh, but you may not notice it because there is a large, black stallion statue also in the front yard. My grandparents' house is filled with everything western: horses, chaps, whips, saddles with poems about the west lazered into them. My grandparents have actually been on cattle drives, frequently go to "Western Events," a.k.a. where all the famous people go who also love the west, and my grandfather heads up an organization called West Quest that is basically a cowboy crusade to fight cancer-they raise money for the American Cancer Society. I don't know, I just thought all of this was normal. My crazy grandparents that like to travel everywhere and let people stay at their house that are famous in the western world that most of my generation do not participate in. But I've always wanted to marry a cowboy (makes sense, right?).

I love the dialogue in this movie: a hillarious combination of the 50's and the west. At one point, Gable comes across Russell's caravan and they're starving. They have mules with them and Gable decides that he's going to butcher one. He tells Russell that it's "Missouri Elk." Yeah, definitely something my grandpa would say and also something my dad laughed at. Both Ben and Nella are stubborn as can be because they have to be-shooting enemies all the time and trying to live in the wild west. This makes for a very interesting love story, especially when Nella is wooed by the guy who offers Ben all that money to drive the cattle. One tactic that Nella employs is singing metaphorically whenevere Ben is around to get her point across. She always seems to be singing about herself as a peach tree, waiting for her love to come by so she can shake some peaches down. Maybe I should start singing about myself metaphorically whenever I'm around someone I'm attracted to. What words would I use to describe myself in a way that he would think I'm interested in him, not crazy? Ok, so maybe that only works in covered wagons with a lot of dust and a lot of knowing you might die that day from people on the trail.

This is older Clark Gable, not Gone With the Wind Clark Gable and certainly not the man who is pictured at the top of my Clark Gable Filmography Check List (thank you Anna). But he was the star of the show all the same and I'm looking forward to watching the other movies-up next, Call of the Wild.

Moral of this Post: Clark Gable movies are bringing me closer to my family.

Highlights of the Semester

I have that lilac-y, violet-y smell on my hands. This is the smell of the soap in my bathroom that has occupied the sink for the last two years. I bring my hand to my face to smell it and I immediately feel that my nose is cold (also a good indicator of being home because my dad likes to keep us guessing with the heating-only during the night and only when it’s cold enough). If this isn’t enough for me, I can look around at the random piles of objects in every room and feel right at home: camera and video equipment, books and clothes that Ryan and I have no room for at school, movies from Netflix. Even the refrigerator is randomly compiled; I felt amazingly at home when I opened the refrigerator and had the choice of making a completely random meal. For those of you who don’t know, making meals at my house is quite an art considering I have parents that have full time day AND night jobs. Usually my refrigerator has mustard, pickles, and milk in it…with some slices of deli cheese if you’re lucky. But Ryan has been home for a few days so I am delighted to see the random assortment of goods in the fridge: boxes of leftover takeout that I smell for safety purposes, my favorite ham from the deli, twenty-five different condiments including ten different types of salad dressing, and an entire pot that I didn’t even open but I’m guessing has spaghetti in it. I decided I couldn’t pass up the ham since I spotted provolone cheese in the drawer and some honey wheat bread in the cupboard. My mom’s favorite salsa was also staring me in the eye: an econo-size vat of ‘fresh salsa’ that is more like watered down mixed up vegetables that she is ridiculously anal about buying from Sam’s Club. I look in the cupboard again and find four bags of Tostitos chips. Perfect. Lemonade was sitting out on the counter, so of course I couldn’t pass that up. And so I had lunch. The tastes didn’t compliment each other at all, which was beautiful because that’s the way it always is at my house. I was completely satisfied and continued to eat pounds of salsa and chips as I read the book Anna is lending me, refilling my lemonade glass every other chapter.

Since I haven’t written very much this semester and seeing how, according to Yahoo.com, people like to read information in lists, I am going to write about the highlights of my semester. So, without further ado, in no particular order at all, my semester:

The St. Meinrad’s Trip: For Foundations of Christian Doctrine class, we went to St. Meinrad’s Monastery in St. Meinrad, Indiana. This trip was somewhat like meatloaf and chocolate pudding: comforting. “The trip required us to travel across Southern Illinois and Indiana, causing us to view the newly harvested fields, the scattered trees, and the farm houses, barns, and silos that seemed to be leaning ever so slightly to one side due to the wear and tear they had inevitably experienced from the wind blowing across the prairie over the years. I simply gazed out the window the entire ride because the landscape was comforting to me. I grew up with corn fields in my front yard and wooded timber in my backyard. Not only did that upbringing create a Little House on the Prairie mentality within me, but it also created a sense of home that revolved around the planting and harvesting of the fields, and the growing and changing of the leaves. Home was also defined by the rhythm the liturgical calendar brought through Catholicism. Fields and blue sky, such as the ones that were passing by during the car ride, will always remind me of my childhood, which was defined largely by country living and a Catholic upbringing. It was only fitting, then, that after we traveled across my homeland we arrived at a Catholic institution: St. Meinrad’s Monastery.” –From my reflection paper on the trip. In short, we got to pray with the monks, attend mass, and eat every meal as a class. The long of it is that I can’t deny my love for the Midwest (as shown above). The agriculture, the 360 degree view of the snow globe-like sky I have from my front porch, the seasons, and yes, the flatness. St. Meinrad’s also seems to have a patent on sacred space which was also homelike: not talking before church because your whispers would reverberate off the marble walls, listening to the trickling of the water in the baptismal font, your gaze being caught by the art in the stained glass windows. Yes, meatloaf and chocolate pudding.

Being on Senior Staff for Rez Life/Becoming Wendy: It would be easy to romanticize about being the SRC (it’s helped me so much as a leader) and at the same time it would be easy to complain about it (sometimes I don’t want that much responsibility), but I can’t deny that it’s been a good thing in most ways. I’m looking forward to looking for jobs as a Resident Director next year-we’ll see if that works out. While working as the SRC, I have become pretty close with the RD’s of other buildings, which brings me to my nickname for myself: Wendy. As you may recall, Wendy spends most of her time with the lost boys in Peter Pan. Nathan, Tim, and Seth are those boys; Seth says I’m blessed to be surrounded by good looking men all the time. I say I’m either blessed or cursed, but I’ll go on record and say that it’s definitely not the latter. I am very grateful for you men, and I’m getting really good at ping pong!

Living with Anna/Nancy: Anna’s mom always talks about her college room mate, Nancy. She talks about her with love and fond memories and laughter. Anna is my Nancy. I am thankful for Anna for two reasons: 1. She thinks my crazy ideas are great and not weird. We’ve ordered in courses from McDonalds, read favorite parts of books out loud to each other, created fictitious characters that we refer to as if they live in the real world, played in the snow, committed a crime, and have decided to become equally obsessed with two different things over break (haiku for Anna, Clark Gable movies for me). Ok, this is either akin to kindred spirit-ness or small group communication. I heard the other day that a group for small group com. went out and got tattoos together. Anna, don’t get any ideas, and yes, I AM referring to the communication department, Lord have mercy.
2. Anna is helping me to see both more of who I am and who I can be. However cheesy that may sound, I greatly appreciate her positive Maximizer even though my Intellection just wants to shut the door and think life away. If you don’t understand the last sentence, take the StrengthsFinder, it WILL change your life…or at least your conversations.

Studying World Religions: I never really understood why, when I went to night class on Tuesdays at 6:30 in Dietzman (Lord have mercy again), I felt so peaceful. For three hours a week I had the opportunity to learn about the world’s major religions: Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. I had the opportunity to interview an Orthodox Rabbi in St. Louis. I read fiction and memoirs from every religion. My Input was on fire and I could picture Lauren F. Winner sitting next to me, coaxing me along as I tried to put words around what I was learning about and from these religions that were taking the corners of my mindset about the world and running with them in opposite directions. It’s only fitting that I’m now reading Eat, Pray, Love (coming to a book review blog near you soon) by Elizabeth Gilbert-a book that expands on what it means to be a person with worth that affirms beauty and God at the same time, mostly through the mediums of religion in India. Reading this book after studying Hinduism and Buddhism is like eating carrot cake or coconut cake-it’s sweet and meaty-I understand and, therefore, appreciate. Thank you Greenville College. I still can’t seem to shake the feeling that if I grew up in another country, I would be that culture’s religion, just like Christianity is culture here. I see how other people, through the books we have read, are trying to make sense of life through the faith they have grown up with. This only makes me want to dig deeper into Christianity to both validate what I grew up with and to find myself and God all at the same time.

Noticing Things: I don’t know if it’s because I’m going to graduate or what, but I seem to be taking in the scenery a lot more this year at GC. I’ve kept a few orange and red leaves between the pages of an Anne Lamott book to remember my last fall. I was walking up to Archer one time and was struck by the pink sky, the coldness, and the bird singing in the dead tree limbs. We have officially celebrated the snow by walking around in it during the wee hours of the morning. The witch’s frost (google image it) that showed up on all the trees one morning was stunning. This morning I was driving back from the airport before the sun rose and had to keep telling myself to look at the road because I was in love with the gray and pink striped sky-before-the-sun right above the snow line. It’s like I’m taking the deep breath before graduation, breathing it all in before it’s time to move on. Second semester winter-to-spring awaits me!

Look forward to commentary on Clark Gable movies, reviews on Eat, Pray, Love, Cloister Walk, and, surprisingly, The Golden Compass. Also, the quickest way to put Jim and Pam’s relationship on hold is to piss off the Writers Guild of America so much that they stop writing shows for the Office and other major productions for late night television. Check.

New Years Resolution: To blog more? Oh, and no fast food. Ok, good.

PB & J: Pam Beasley and Jim

With the advent of another Office season, friends of mine have sparked the question: “What’s going to happen between Pam and Jim?” I understand this wondering, considering we’ve been waiting for three seasons for them to have a moment in time where they could actually date. After an engagement, a relationship, a relationship after breaking off an engagement, and a move, our beloved Pam and Jim seem to both finally know what they want: each other.

After so many Ross and Rachel type relationships (10 episodes), I wonder why we keep watching. Why do we always hold out for them to get together? If I told my best friends that I was in love with someone who is engaged, I doubt there response would be “BFD! Engaged ain’t married!” And there certainly wouldn’t be any running down the aisle interruptions on the wedding day, exclaiming that no, in fact I could not hold my peace-he should not get married. It all just seems so dramatic (case in point, right? We wouldn’t actually watch television that was boring.)

But it also is archetypal. Most English teachers I know would argue that we think stories are good because they satisfy what we already know to be true in our minds. In other words, we expect certain things to happen because they are so engrained. These stories may have different twists and certainly different settings, but there are only really two types of the love story:

1. Boy and Girl can’t be together for whatever reason. This story capitalizes on the ‘forbidden love’ aspect, where we find our classic love stories like Romeo and Juliet (family), Aladdin and Jasmine (social statuses), Pam and Jim (engagement/another relationship).

2. Boy and Girl start off hating one another and then eventually fall in love. Elizabeth and Darcy, Joe Fox and Kathleen Kelly, Lightning McQueen and Girl Car (they train us early.)

Yes, our Pam and Jim story is the retelling of a love story that we’re already familiar with. And while we constantly hope for them to be together, I have some bad news-normally that particular archetypal love story focuses more on when they’re not together or them actually wishing they were together than them actually being together. It’s not like number two where we gradually see people move closer and closer together until they are in a relationship. We would rather spend time arguing that they should be together or that they really do like each other. But what happened after Ross and Rachel finally got together? Inevitably, something would happen to drag it out longer. These stories come from the same line as Romeo and Juliet: they’re a bit, if not completely, tragic. They are the epitome of reminders that life isn’t fair.

You have been officially forewarned. My guess is that it will be four episodes max until something happens with Pam and Jim that causes one of them to question the relationship. Either this questioning will continue or there will be a huge miscommunication and things won’t be ending happily by the end of the season. Don’t get me wrong, there could be a hilarious hour-long wedding episode, but it won’t be until season 8.

Snapshots

Life, lately, has been categorized by moments that I will never forget. Snapshots of life, if you will. Moments frozen in time-a Polaroid photograph that can be held in my hand to revisit the scene that is captured before me. The interesting thing is, I don’t control when the picture is taken; it just happens. So my life seems to be categorized by the random Polaroids that are tacked or taped to my wall, skewed ever so slightly. Memories I know I will never forget.

Brian Hartley telling our Foundations class that theologians are poets and singers. Captured in this one statement is the truth that theologians don’t just capture the words of the faith, but they’re caught up in the ‘doing’ of the faith as well-they’re singing, they’re speaking those words. This has great meaning for me because I fit into the category of theology poets. But it’s one thing just to write, and another to speak forth those words, to sing them to other people.

President Mannoia telling us at the Cor 401 retreat that he feels like he has half a heart and half a brain without Ellen. They truly did become one person, one flesh. Then he read the vows she wrote for him. In a gruff, deliberative voice he said “….and she kept her word.”

Sitting in Snyder 104 with all the freshman for Environmental Science, listening to them talk about the things I talked about three years ago-things I wanted to talk about because I was worried about them. How hard would those drawings in Western Civ be graded?
I’m in a group for that class and it’s so evident that it takes time not only for freshman to be ‘greenville-ized’ (and I mean that in the best way), but it also takes time for them to adjust to the college work load. I didn’t realize that working in groups and writing papers had become so commonplace until I sat with people who had not done that on the college level yet.

Walking back up to Tower as the sun sets and the orange light streams across campus. Being really excited to go to St. Meinrad’s in October. In anticipation for the colors of fall. Realizing in a second that the familiarity of Greenville wasn’t always there and it’s not always going to be, and in that next second realizing it was my last year as I walked across campus.

These snapshots will, inevitably, continue to accumulate on my wall as my mind continues to realize that it’s my last year as a student at Greenville College. I can only hope that I will be present enough not to miss them.

Head Girl-ship

The other day I was running around town (literally running) and it was funny to me how many smells I ‘ran’ through. As I was running by the side of campus I passed a freshman guy and girl and ran through the cloud of cologne/perfume that made me open and close my eyes again because it was so strong. I was running by a house on College Avenue that was obviously doing laundry because the smell made me think of home: laundry detergent plus hot air, with a hint of a bounce sheet mixed in their somewhere. Running back on College Avenue the other way was the smell of Mario’s. It was funny to me how long it lingered. The best smell, though, by far, was the trees. And there’s only certain places you can truly smell them. True smell=with the smell of soil and grass mixed in. Walking down into the cemetery or the road by the hospital is good for that. You have to be around enough trees and away from everything else for the smell to envelope you….and it’s good when it does.

It’s safe to say that I love my job. Being the SRC is pretty great. Aside from doing the normal things like checking in students and planning for programs, I get to do things like hang out with Kelcey and Pedro. What other students get that opportunity? I was thinking today that it’s great that I’m the little person on Senior Staff and then I turn around and I’m the leader of my Upper Division RC’s. It’s really a perfect place to be in: being shown how to lead and then leading in my own area of campus. Not to mention the fact that my UD staff is amazing. All in all, things are starting to take shape in the area of Rez life on the North end of campus.

Classes start on Wednesday. Oh required reading, how I love thee. No, but seriously, think about it: What do you love? Basketball? Cooking? Skydiving? What if you were required to do it for class all of the time? Yeah, that’s how I feel about reading. World Religions and Foundations of Christian Doctrine here I come!

Walkabout the Third

Don’t expect. That seemed to be the theme for most of Walkabout. The umbrella under which we voiced prayers every morning for our hikes, listened to people tell their stories, and generally got to know people that we wouldn’t have known in everyday life at GC. We prayed. “Little” prayers-like ‘God protect us.’ We trusted. We didn’t expect (maybe the term ‘striving’ for a specific answer or a specific way for God to do something would fit better here). And we were incredibly blessed.

Community. I know that I function better inside of community. Somehow the combination of lots of trees, sleeping outside, cooking meals together, pumping water, and listening makes for a recipe of ‘insta-community.’ And my insta-community on the mountain this year was pretty spectacular: Neil, Catherine, Phu, Brett, Carrie, Rod.

This year marked the end of actually going on Walkabout for me. I was a leader this year, which not only meant that I was looked to as an authority on bear bags and blisters, but I was expected to actually facilitate that community that happened on the mountain. Translation: I’m beginning to learn what it means to be an agent of God in leadership. Emphasis on beginning.

Every night we were by a stream. Beautiful, clear water, cascading mossy rock streams. I stood out on the rocks and tried to memorize what they all looked like because I knew I would be back in my apartment, trying to put the pieces together in my mind of what each place looked like on Walkabout. It was so different from my last two years: being up high on the Appalachian Trail. Now included in my Walkabout memories, mixed in with the high points of looking around at the surrounding green mountains that begin to get fuzzy from fog or distance as my eyes and memory strain to remember, are the thoughts of the rushing waters and the large trees overhead that I viewed from the middle of the streams. Creation is restorative.

Included in that restoration process were the words of my team and the relaxation that comes from not having cell phones and loosing track of time to the point of trying to remember what day it is. It was perfect that after this crazy time lapse happened, my team put together a skit for the celebration at Cosby campground that consisted of them playing Walkabout equipment ala Stomp! The definition of our team: different personalities coming together to create one crazy sound…..without words. Perfect.
Now I’m back at GC. Back to clear cut days with cell phones and dorm keys, but I’m trying to go without expectation for as long as possible. I just want to get up in the morning, pray, and remember that this is the day the Lord has made and I do, indeed, want to rejoice in the way that He has constructed it. And at the end of it, I want to look back and thank Him for all that He did…..just in one day. Remembering to function in community.

Tall and Skinny

Sunset walks sans the sunset (due to the tree line virtually circling the town) leads to noticing different things in this bell ringing, mom and pop town. The best part of the walk is the block of houses directly north of Dairy Queen. Who decided to put all of the prettiest houses on one block? Well, prettiest in my opinion. Tall tall skinny houses with three floors, lots of rooms, turrets, lilac gardens. The block sits up high from the sidewalk, the houses’ front yards ending in a concrete wall that holds the block sort of like the wrapper on a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup. The best part about this are the steps cut into the concrete wall, some turning up to the house that sits high above the street. I want to explore these houses-to see the tall, skinny, cramped rooms, the steep stair cases, the oldness. I want to climb the stairs and notice the doors and be inside the houses that make me feel the most like I am in Greenville.

Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott

My first encounter with Anne Lamott was during my sophomore year at GC in a Fiction and Poetry class: 20 seniors, Brad Shaw, and myself. Lamott came at a good time (I was asked to actually write and share poetry---in the grand scheme of things, I would live in cute, Fiction land where the things in your mind actually sprung to life and you went to talk about them at the local ice cream shop that looked like a 50’s diner with lots of colors for inspiration, while those Poets would spend all their time at Walden Pond being transcendental like and looking a lot like Thoreau-just looking for the right word that, as everyone knows, is actually worth fifteen sentences in prose writing, because it’s that fitting and perfect.) Needless to say, I was a little intimidated. Bird by Bird, written by Lamott about the actual task of writing, helped a lot. And I fell in love with her style of writing-sort of a more liberal and outspoken Lauren F. Winner of the 90’s.

I really appreciate that laced throughout Lamott’s story of coming to God and then Jesus is her emphasis on prayer. Prayer for Lamott means stopping what she is doing, writing out her request to God, or kneeling and putting her face in her hands, and knowing that she will have an answer even if it is weeks later in some form she may not recognize at first. She also describes her need for prayer as her ‘inner little child reminding her to pray about something that seems trivial or outlandish to her.’ For Lamott, keeping the communication open between us and God is the most important thing. Today, as I was expounding on this thought on my walk, I was getting myself into an unproductive mindset, to say the least, and then I talked to God about it, and it wasn’t that hard to change my mindset when I wanted to. Which is encouraging because I spend a lot of time thinking about things (intellection) and not actually doing them—putting faith into action, the pedal to the metal, and all that jazz-type metaphors. So I moved past appreciating what Lamott had to say to actually experiencing it.

Lamott’s comparisons are perfect. She tells us that her son couldn’t possibly understand the concept of having a bad self image because he is a cross between God and Cindy Crawford. She described baby’s rolling around in the sand next to her as ‘breaded veal cutlets.’ She personifies grace as a person (Grace Paley) and when things don’t go the way that Lamott wants them to go, Grace says “It was what it was.” But there’s always another (better) chance waiting for the next time.

Lamott would definitely be out at Walden Pond, waiving her left wing banners as her dread locks bounced up and down while she thought of a perfect comparison of the entire thing in her mind. Her books are also laced with poetry, showing her love and appreciation of just one or so many thoughts being captured in so few words. If we ever met, I’d bring a milk shake from the diner as an icebreaker and we’d sit out by Walden Pond and we’d be able to enjoy its beauty together. In other words, I’d want to talk to her about stuff that she’s written in her books, but I’d probably come off as a blond fan that says something like “wow, your hair is Super cool.” But there’s always the hope that we’d be able to look past our exteriors (and my intimidation of someone who has made it in the writing world) and just talk.

I opened up Plan B right after I was done with Traveling Mercies and a book mark for Book Man Book Woman flew out. I didn’t even see the lady put it in there in Nashville! It says that their books range from $4.95 to $75,000….but mostly in between $10 and $14. What costs $75,000 there??

The Blessed Day Has Arrived

Nashville, Tennessee will always hold a special place in my heart because it was there that the culmination of the Harry Potter series and eight years of my life occurred. Anna and I were the first to Borders to receive color coded wristbands corresponding to when we could stand in line that night to receive our books. At 8 a.m., with a Starbucks right down the block, people kept walking by the store, wondering why we were waiting outside so early. More and more people started to gather and more and more people started to wonder what was going on. We were the wizarding community to those outside muggles who didn’t know what day it was.

Anna and I went back to Borders that night for the Grand Ball, Anna with her roaring lion witch’s hat and me with my pink hair. People greeted us as Luna and Tonks. It was more fun than I’ve had in a long time.

As for the book, can I quote the Goo Goo Dolls song that says “I went to fiction to look for the truth?” Because that’s what I feel like when I read Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling is a master story teller who underlies her stories with the fact that we have a choice in our actions in this life, that doing the right thing is always better than the easy or responsible thing, that relationships with people are one of the highest priorities in our lives, and so much more.
Reading her books is an aesthetic experience. You open that hard binding, you see that familiar font, you quickly dive into her style of telling the story from Harry’s point of view. The Harry Potter series are the only books that I have a preference on hardback or paperback.

And it is here that you need to stop reading if you haven’t read the 7th one yet.

There are several scenes that I just want to read over and over so I can have them engrained in my memory so I can think of them later, verbatim, with perfect clarity.

1. Hermione and Ron’s kiss. “Hang on a moment!” said Ron sharply. “We’ve forgotten someone!” “Who?” asked Hermione. “The house-elves, they’ll all be down in the kitchen, won’t they?” “You mean we ought to get them fighting?” asked Harry. “No,” said Ron seriously, “I mean we should tell them to get out. We don’t want any more Dobbies, do we? We can’t order them to die for us…” There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet. “Is this the moment?” Harry asked weakly, and when nothing happened except that Ron and Hermione gripped each other still more firmly and swayed on the spot, he raised his voice, “OI! There’s a war going on here!”

2. Snape’s memories of Lily. “Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?” Snape hesitated. His black eyes, eager in the greenish gloom, moved over the pale face, the dark red hair. “No,” he said. “It doesn’t make any difference.”

His voice trailed away; she was not listening, but had stretched out on the leafy ground and was looking up at the canopy of leaves overhead. He watched her as greedily as he had watched her in the playground. “How are things at your house?” Lily asked. A little crease appeared between his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “They’re not arguing anymore?” “Oh yes, they’re arguing,” said Snape. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart, apparently unaware of what he was doing. “but it won’t be that long and I’ll be gone.” “Doesn’t your dad like magic?” “He doesn’t like anything much,” said Snape. “Severus?” A little smile twisted Snape’s mouth when she said his name.

“He fancies you, James Potter fancies you!” The words seemed wrenched from him against his will. “And he’s not…everyone thinks…big Quidditch hero…” Snape’s bitterness and dislike were rendering him incoherent, and Lily’s eyebrows were traveling farther and farther up her forehead. “I know James Potter’s an arrogant toerag,” she said, cutting across Snape. “I don’t need you to tell me that. But Mulciber’s and Avery’s idea of humor is just evil. Evil, Sev. I don’t understand how you can be friends with them.” Harry doubted that Snape had even heard her strictures on Mulciber and Avery. The moment she had insulted James Potter, his whole body had relaxed, and as they walked away there was a new spring in Snape’s step…

These scenes mean the most to me and I have no idea why. Probably some combination of girlish hope for Ron and Hermione and some much needed understanding for Snape.

All in all, the book was a brilliant way to end a brilliant series. No commentary of mine could add to what she has already done, and the need for you to read it!

Well Played, Paul

Anna and I just walked out of Book Man/Book Woman (a.k.a Nashville’s Greatest Used Book Store) with five pounds of books. Anna set the mood for the day by wearing her shirt that says ‘Calvinism: This Shirt Chose Me.’ Therefore, this was the attitude we had with buying books….they chose us.

If you want the truth, that’s how it goes with me normally. I’m a book wanter, not a book buyer. Normally I have a list of books that I want to add to my collection-most of them I haven’t read. All of the items on this list have answered one specific question in my mind: not only will they be special to me at this moment in my life, but they have the potential to grow on me and speak to me in different ways as time goes on. I don’t know why I pretentiously know that they will, but I can’t just look around a book store and pick something up that I’ve never heard of before—there has to be some background knowledge, and some reason why I’m reading it.

This list has been growing in my mind since my Freshman year at GC. I’ve had books on that list that I’ve wanted to read for two years. This is where the Calvinism part comes in: I always see specific books on the list at specific times and they always mean so much to me for that specific time period. And if they’re on the list, I know they’re ‘good enough’ to speak to me later. As we walked around the bookstore that made use of twenty wall alcoves besides shelves that seemed to go up forever, doubly stacked with books (books behind books, books on top of books), I perused the fiction section, the religion section, the mystery section…before settling back into the fiction section. And who do I see starting back at me right across from the beautifully bound Jane Austen books? Anne Lamott!
She chose me…and I’m excited to read Traveling Mercies and Further Thoughts on Faith.

Anna kept coming around the corners of the shelves with books containing Mark Twain and L. M. Montgomery. Perfect.

All of this made me think of scripture, and my slight obsession with Paul after taking Pauline Epistles in the spring. I’m currently reading Paul: A Novel….basically a strung together account of his life right before and then after his conversion and calling to the Gentiles. I really like this book because it encompasses the theology of Paul in areas such as the Torah, the status of people, Jews and Gentiles….even though the whereabouts of Paul are so heavily debated. Each chapter is written by a different person that was around him at a different part of his life: Luke, Titus, Prisca.

I thought of Paul because, after rereading Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell, I started thinking about our repainting of the Christian faith. So much of Paul’s ministry was the ‘casting in a new light’ of parts of the Torah and repainting snippets of truth Paul found that was held by non-Jews: telling people that they knew of God because they saw what was outside them in creation. In Paul’s opinion, these people had experienced the God of Israel and they were completely non-Jewish (sacrificing to the god of the games and the god of this and that) just because they could see creation!

This repainting of the Christian faith includes reading books by Anne Lamott and what she thinks about grace, something I’ve asked God to help me wrap my mind around. Grace, for me, is God calling us out again, even though we screwed up the first time. Being called out to be pure, to live life abundantly, to choose God….every day

It's All Just Really Chutes and Ladders

Last night I had the privilege of hanging out with three guys that are close to my heart. They might as well be my brothers, considering one of them is. On the outside, the evening looked normal-the drive in, Denny’s…some may even consider that Litchfield tradition. But, as the storm swept in as the credits started to role for the last movie, we all cloistered around a booth at the blessed 24 hour restaurant that has come to be the home of many beautiful late night conversations.

For the record, this conversation came up because Andy and Tim ordered milk shakes, and as any good Denny’s going customer knows, not only do you receive a milk shake in a glass, but you also receive the goodness in the silver glass used to make and pour the milk shake, commonly known as ‘the extra.’ The boys got off on a kick trying to compare ‘the extra’ to things in life. “It’s like getting a bag of 40 pizza rolls and getting 42.” “It’s like wow.” And then it was said: “It’s like winning at chutes and ladders.”

My brother’s analogy of the summer.

That every boy seems to agree with…..wholeheartedly. Imagine boys laughing and going crazy before other guys finish sentences because they agree so much with what is being said—this is the magnitude of how much this metaphor resounds with all boys.

Chutes and Ladders: the game of life….more specifically, the game of life as dictated by women. According to the boys, you can’t avoid the game and it all just basically boils down to the fact that men are ruled by the basics and women are ‘anti-basic.’

The Basics: food, sleep, the opposite sex, and pride. Men have accepted the fact that their lives are ruled by the basics. They have to have these things in their lives. They are also willing to forgo one of the basics in order for another one of the basics to be fulfilled: for example, I guess I can stay up and talk to this girl because I’ve had enough food and sleep lately.
But it seems that whatever is most pressing, whatever is ‘next’ in the logical progression of things, like breakfast, for instance, takes precedent.

Women: the rule writers of Chutes and Ladders.

A relationship with a girl is like playing chutes and ladders. Sometimes a guy does something and he gets a ladder, aka a good thing happens. A ladder may be something as small as reaching for her hand and she holds yours and smiles. That’s definitely a step up.
But with every ladder, there is, inevitably, a chute.
The next time that you may reach for her hand, she may pull away. But wait, this worked last time? What the heck? The definition of a chute….or any reason for a guy’s pride to deflate.

Crazy things happen in the game of Chutes and Ladders, mostly because all women are different and write different rules pertaining to the chutes and the ladders. Also, sometimes women change up the rules completely from what they were before, just to do so…and apparently this is the epitome of all evil in this metaphorical game (if you’re still following me by this point. My sources say that if you’re a guy, you are getting this completely, but if you’re a girl you may be trailing off a bit. I’m working on being a liaison.)

At the end of this conversation, I came to the conclusion that I’m basically the giver of chutes and ladders, and that it’s good for guys and girls to be together because a ‘symbiotic relationship’ happens between basic and complex.

And this is all very good, like the extra of a milk shake.

Sunset Walks

In preparation for Walkabout the Third, I have been quite disciplined, if I do say so myself, to walk/run a couple miles everyday. What better time to do this then right before, during, and after sunset? Besides the obvious reasons being the painted sky and the temperature actually dropping, I have found others at the high school track (yes, I know, I’m not actually athletic enough to run on a road or sidewalk.)

The track is hopping during sunset.

And what’s great is it’s the same people everyday. Like we have an unspoken agreement to all be there at the same time, because believe me, we don’t actually talk to one another. Here’s the breakdown:

Citizen Cane: This older man walks in the outside lanes of the track and he carries a cane with him as if he’s carrying it for balance-right out in front with both hands, swinging back and forth. About every third step his hip gives in and his leg bends in unnaturally, but all I can think of is how much I admire this man: he obviously wants to improve his walking, and he’s not out for a stroll-he does a couple miles right along with me.

The Ya Ya Sisterhood: This group of women spans three generations, with the youngest being, oh, I’d say 48. They take up six lanes of the track, (each walking a lane apart from one another) just stroll along, and talk very loudly about who’s suffering from what addiction and how that’s the worst one to possibly have. It’s always awkward passing them because I have to use a lane right next to one of them. Courtesy track passing either means you acknowledge the person behind you and move two lanes over or, as the passer, you move a couple lanes over, pass, and then retake the inner lane. These rules are strict and rigid and everyone follows them….except the Ya Ya’s.

The Married Couple: They start off walking at the same time, but he naturally speeds up and leaves her in the dust. We’re talking ¾’s of the track ahead of her…he’s practically caught up to her again by the time they are done. If I were the wife, I’d be ticked! Walk next to me! But for some reason, I have this thing that I can’t let the husband pass me. I’m always there when they start out and we always start out half the track apart and he always almost catches up to me…but then they leave and I win the silent war.

The Woman with Different Children: This is the woman who brings her children (that happen to be different everyday) to the track to “play”-which, of course, means running up and down the bleachers, running the opposite way on the track, riding bikes around campus-while she walks 2 or 3 laps. There’s a lot of ‘get down from there!’ and ‘be careful!’

After three miles, the sun has set at the high school, leaving the sky pink, orange, or purple. I get in my car, drive home, and after I pass that certain cornfield, the sky is completely ablaze because the sun hasn’t quite set at my house yet…and the best thing about my house is the panoramic view-no buildings to get in the way, just fields and sky and me. It’s one of the best parts of my day. I never thought the sunset would be so important to me.
Ok, Rob Bell, I’m trying to interact with nature/creation here!

I’m thinking about implementing the sunset walks at Greenville…now to find a place where I can actually see the sun set.

The Difference Between Shooting Stars and Satellites?

Harry Potter mania has officially begun.
Anna saw the new movie last night at midnight....I'm pathetically making it to the 4:30 matinee today, you know, on the actual relase date when the sun is shining. But I'm going with three people who will think the special affects are awesome, who will get goosebumps when the music crescendos at the climax of the movie, and who will want to talk about what just happened on screen. Yes, I'm going with my brother and two younger cousins---a family of nerds! I'm so glad they're in my life!
I read a quote on J.K. Rowling's website about how she would take time off after she finished each book, but then her hand would start itching for a pen and she automatically wanted to be back in a cafe, scratching words across a page. Sigh...what a life! After a summer of being home and having nothing to do but read and write, I almost said amen to those words when I read them. Oh to live a life of blank pages in binding with ink blotches on my hand.
And then I'm also happy to be back at Greenville soon, because when people hear me say stuff like that their immediate response will be, "Em, you need to be around people more often."
J.K. also said she knew she wanted to be a writer from a young age because she was perfectly happy sitting in her room all day, just making stuff up.

My dad tells me about once a week that I can do what she has done. Isn't that sweet? : )
Maybe not a crazy series that gets translated into every language, but a book.....yes, a book.

Transition

I started thinking a lot about this year, to be more specific this year that starts in three weeks for me. And summer was over like that. I started thinking about what we’re going to do during training and how we’re going to work together as a team and what boxes I’m going to pack my stuff in and that antsy feeling I get every year before I go back that is only a slice of what I felt before my freshman year-a combination of being excited and not knowing what is going to happen and knowing I will be crazy busy but will remember random things from the whole RC/Walkabout/Moving In process-yeah, that was there today. So the transition of being back in school has begun….a lot earlier than some, but I do need to start thinking about it.

I talked to Laura on the phone today, actually Mele ( pronounced May-Lay) on the phone. Mele is the new Laura. The Laura that doesn’t write anything down in her planner book. The Laura that surfs. The Laura that GIVES guys her PHONE NUMBER without them asking. Laura went to Hawaii and Super Confident Mele is returning to the mainland in a week. And I’m stoked because she’s so full of life and we’re going to take walks during the school year and she’s going to tell me to be more confident.

I’m going to see Anna in a week in the little red truck. We’re going to single-handedly be responsible for reversing the mainstream culture by waiting in line for a midnight release of a book. Ok, so, we’ll be doing it with a billion other people across the world, but it is kind of noble and purist reader-like, isn’t it?

And yes, it is for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

And yes, I’m really excited.

Hello, I'm Johnny Cash

For an avid movie fan, you would think that I would get around to seeing movies that are thought of as particularly good by everyone and have won several awards.

Somehow, that doesn’t always happen and I see a movie a year or two late.

Tonight I saw Walk the Line for the first time.

I loved the poetic retelling of Johnny Cash’s life-the writer fully encompassing the pain and sorrow that comes from addiction and life on the road.

I absolutely adored June Carter as a character and Reese Witherspoon as an actress all at the same time. And I did like watching them fall in love—granted it was after failed marriages, infidelity, and lots of issues, but it was a true story that included forgiveness and redemption. Plus, who can say no to a completely non-cheesy ‘here I’m going to teach you how to do this and touch you at the same time’ classic love story scene? Yeah,
best one that I’ve seen in a while.

I love when screenplay writers start off the movie with a scene towards the end and successfully progress through the movie to that scene. The writing, needless to say, was awesome: enough background of Cash’s life, just the right scenes to show the emotion that was going on, and just enough to develop June as well.

My dad’s favorite scene is when June’s family chases the drug dealer off Cash’s property with a gun. We laughed. “Sometimes that’s the way it has to be done.” –Dad
And you know, I would have to agree with that. Sometimes we have to vehemently chase things away.

My favorite scene happens to be when June and Johnny first meet and she gets her dress stuck on his guitar strap. She rushes on stage and inadvertently leaves a piece torn from her dress on Johnny’s guitar. Where was the deleted scene showing that he still had that piece of dress with him years later?? : ) But really, the way that they looked at each other…..(insert low whistle here). You should read about how a couple looks at each other in Sex God by Rob Bell…; ).

My mom’s favorite scene is when Johnny and the boys are first auditioning and the label guy comes out with this monologue that book ends the rest of the movie-“if you had to choose one song to sing before you died.” Again, incredibly, not cheesy! June has some zingers too which I especially enjoyed.

I’ll probably watch it again tomorrow.

Sex God: Exploring the Endless Connections Between Sexuality and Spirituality by Rob Bell

I loved this book. You should go out and read it right now.
If you don’t recognize the author, Rob Bell also wrote Velvet Elvis which you should read right now as well. This book was good because it opened up a scriptural view of marriage as I had never experienced before. This also included expounding on the marriage language that God uses in scripture to refer to the Body of Christ.
Read it!

Favorite Quotes/Ideas:

-Bell expands on the idea when Jesus talks about gouging out your eye before your whole self ends up in hell from lusting. He points out that the main purpose of this teaching is that something hellish happens when we treat people as objects, as something less than human. And that something hellish happens to us; it happens to our hearts, souls, and mindsets about other people. He provides a great example of appreciating people: this woman, named Lil, has devoted herself to taking care of another woman that will be developmentally six months old for the rest of her life. Lil says that her family can’t imagine life without the disabled woman. This is appreciating life.

-We need to be connected to the Earth-to look at trees and hike to see a view and to plant things, because this reminds us of God. We also need to be connected to people of all ages and socioeconomic statuses because we are connected-and to be connected has a sexual dimension.

-Bell’s definition of sexuality with connection in mind: “If we take this understanding of our natural state seriously, we have to rethink what sexuality is. For many, sexuality is simply what happens between two people involving physical pleasure. But that’s only a small percentage of what sexuality is. Our sexuality is all of the ways we strive to reconnect with our world, with each other, and with God.”

-“When I meet someone who has been burned by an institution, my first question is, “What was the person’s name?”

-“There are these two extremes, denying our sexuality or being driven by it, and then there’s the vast space in between.” In the thought that we can’t be angels or animals, we have to live in the tension of being human. “When we deny the spiritual dimension to our existence we end up feeling like animals. And when we deny the physical, sexual dimension to our existence, we end up living like angels. And both ways are destructive, because God made us human.”

-“He (Paul) insists that everything God created is good, and we come to see this through what he calls “the word of God and prayer,” which is the hard work of study and reflection and meditation and discussion and debate. The temptation is always to avoid things that are difficult and complex. To go around them rather than through them.”

-“The problem for Adam and Eve isn’t the food. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the food. The food is good. This is what Eve notices about it, that it’s “good for food.” It’s created by God for the enjoyment of people. The same goes for most of the things and people we lust for. In most cases, there’s nothing wrong with them inherently-her body, that product, this food. The problem for Adam and Eve is what the fruit has come to represent. Rebelion against God. Rejection of the good, the true, and the beautiful. Another way.

-“Adam and Eve fixate on this one piece of fruit from this one tree when God has given them endless trees with infinite varieties of fruit to enjoy. Which is often our problem. There’s so much to enjoy, and yet we fixate on something we don’t have.” Favorite quote, hands down. We need to get in the groove of thanking God for what He has given us. What are you fixating on? One pomegranate doesn’t compare to the rest that He’s given you…..ok you get the picture.

-“God made us to appreciate aesthetics: taste, smell, touch, hearing, sight. Shape, texture, consistency, color. It all flows from the endless creativity at the center of the universe, and we were created to enjoy it. But when lust has us in its grip, one of the first things to suffer is our appreciation for whatever it is we’re fixated on.”

-“Whatever it is that has its hooks in you, you will never be free from it until you find something you want more. It’s not about getting rid of desire. It’s about giving ourselves to bigger and better and more powerful desires. What are you channeling your energies into?”

-Bell talks about love as a risk. He uses the Song of Solomon-talking about the lover coming home to the beloved and asking to come into their bedroom. She does not respond favorably and then he leaves. And God takes a risk with us.

-“Love is a giving away. When we love, we put ourselves out there, we expose ourselves, we allow ourselves to be vulnerable.”

-“If you’re God and you want to express ultimate love to your creation, if you want to move toward them in a definitive way, you have a problem, because just showing up overwhelms people. You wouldn’t come as you are. You wouldn’t come in strength. You wouldn’t come in your pure, raw essence. You’d scare everybody away. The last thing people would perceive is love. So how would you express your love in an ultimate way? How do you connect with people in a manner that wouldn’t scare them off but would compel them to want to come closer, to draw near? You would need to strip yourself of all of the trappings that come with ultimate power and authority.”

-“For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior.”-Ephesians, v 23 somewhere. “The word head is the word kephale in the Greek language. We could spend hours analyzing exactly what it means, but the larger point is that the husband is supposed to be like Christ. And what does that look like? Notice how the text continues. Verse 24 repeats the submit command, and then verse 25 reads, “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” Christ’s “headship” comes from his giving himself up for the church. His sacrifice. His surrender. His willingness to give himself away for her. His death. Whatever authority the word head carries with it is rooted in the sacrifice of Christ, and therefore the sacrifice of the husband.” Or to quote Corrie’s pastor: “This is not the ‘headship’ that we think of in corporate America-to be the ‘head’ of a company, or the likes.”

-“Agape doesn’t love somebody because they’re worthy. Agape makes them worthy by the strength and power of its love. Agape doesn’t love somebody because they’re beautiful. Agape loves in such a way that it makes them beautiful. There is a love because, love in order to, love for the purpose of, and then there is love, period. Agape doesn’t need a reason.”

-“Now often the Ten Commandments are seen as the harsh rules of a God who is looking for ways to judge and control people. Just follow the rules and no one will get hurt. As if the best that God can come up with is a list of things people shouldn’t do. Often religion with this understanding of God has very little to say to people beyond “don’t do this and don’t do that.” But the Ten Commandments are about something else. In a Jewish wedding ceremony, a legal document called the ketubah must be agreed upon and signed by both parties. Essentially it’s a list of what they are entering into. Both the bride and groom must be clear with each other on what they are committing to, what they both affirm it will take for this relationship to work. The Ten Commandments are the ketubah. They’re the agreement between the people and God about how they’re going to live together, which is why the first one deals with having other gods. It’s essentially an agreement that this relationship won’t work if they have other lovers.”

God continues to bring Jewish thought processes to my mind. I’ve been voluntarily reading Lauren F. Winner, but here it is again in Sex God. I’m excited about my Judaism classes at Greenville this coming year.
Another exciting thing that has come with my premature understanding of Judaism this summer is a newfound appreciation for tradition, more specifically the fact that we can acknowledge God through everything as aided by the liturgy, remembering why we do things like celebrate Easter, and, of course, our own specific rituals like taking a walk every night to ‘notice nature’ and see God through that.
I’ve been reading Nehemiah. He gets Israel on track to rebuild the wall and the chapter I read today had to do with the leaders reading the law and the people crying. Nehemiah quickly said ‘the joy of the Lord is your strength’ verse, but was more important for me is that they reinstated the Feast of Tabernacles, or Sukkot. And my devotional talked about having a healthy balance of celebrating what God has down in our lives concerning grace, and contrition, repentance, and sorrow. My love for putting a material quality to scripture was enflamed as I read about the ‘booths’ that Jews reconstruct to symbolize the booths that the Israelites dwelt in during the 40 days in the desert.
This all makes me want to celebrate something. I’m thinking about celebrating purity….seriously. And a couple of things came to mind. I need to get scripture on purity-a sort of packet that I can read from and have floating around in my mind as I research these next couple of weeks under the umbrella of: what is purity? I need a community to celebrate with. And I need concrete ways to celebrate—like the booths that are made during Sukkot. Of course, the mindset would be that we are celebrating purity, and therefore celebrating God. And the point would be celebrating the fact that we are a new creation, that sexuality is about being connected (ala Rob Bell), and that God gives us the grace to live pure lives.
Of course this would have to be balanced by the repentance that would occur for the ways we haven’t lived pure lives.

Just a few ideas….

And then all of this thought about celebration made me think about the way the Christian year is ordered, and then, more specifically, the way that we gather every Sunday with a community to partake in both a celebration, a remembrance, and an offering of repentance. Church : ).

Today I was looking at a magazine my mom bought that had to do with weddings. There was a page with a featured cake from each state. I asked her if she could pick out my favorite one. She picked it out in 30 seconds. My dad picked it out in a minute. Out of 50 states! I guess I'm predictable....or they just know me well.

A is for Arizona

Last night Shan and I drove to AZ. I read her the last part of C is for Corpse by Sue Grafton. As we drove farther and farther away from civiliation, the murder mystery became darker and darker. I was officially freaked out....but it's definitely something I will never forget. We might as well have been in a covered wagon reading by candlelight by the way we were talking about this book.
Ah memories.

The Rendezvous State

I feel like I've had an idyllic California experience.
Corrie met us at the produce stand at Underwood farms where her mom works when we got here. As we were picking out vegetables to eat in an open air, completely wooden produce stand, I actually felt like I was in a California I had pictured. It was so refreshing to be in the state that I had once considered to be totally fake because it didn't have any buildings that were 60 years old or the fact that I could access Gucci, Starbucks, or water because it was pumped into the desert...but this time I was surrounded by agriculture: lemon trees, orange trees, vineyards.
That same night we went to the beach. I've never been to the beach at night when the moon and stars were reflecting off the waves. We took our sandals off at the edge of the beach and walked through the cold sand to the waterfront. As we stood with our feet in the sand looking at the waves, I realized how awesome it would be to own property on the beach front, even though it would cost several million dollars. Maybe someday in a far off land....
The next day we went to Santa Barbara and went shopping downtown, went to the Santa Barbara Mission and rose garden (gorgeous), and went out on the pier. I took a lot of pictures of the sailboats. It was at this point that I realized that California would seriously hinder my judgement in any romantic endeavour, because the surroundings are so beautiful and amiable.....which means it's perfect for a good thought process in writing form.
Then we went to Corrie's friend's reaffirmation of her baptismal vows. As we prayed for her, I was reminded why we have community--to show that God is real-the cloud of witnesses. That was definitely stressed that night and I felt it through the small community that was around that night, even if it was just to play the Wii and to stand around and talk.
We went to a Jars of Clay concert tonight in a small venue. The sound quality and closeness factor made the whole experience amazing. They played for about two hours and it was a great concert musically. On the way home, we drove past Disney Land as they were shooting off fireworks for their evening parade. We were on the freeway, so we were almost at the same height where the fireworks exploded....it was beautiful.
Through all of this we have been listening to the new Lifehouse CD, which makes it sort of movie soundtrack like as I'm looking at all of my surroundings.
I love being here...we're going to the beach and then heading back to Arizona tomorrow, maybe in hopes of catching a Diamondback game and going to some favorite AZ places. Back to the arid desert after the cool ocean breeze....and then eventually back to humidity.

My High School Library

Today I sifted through my books and gave my 16 and 14 year old cousins these titles:
God’s Words on Life for Teens (verse book)
This is the Air I Breathe by Louie Giglio
My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers
In the Name of Jesus by Henry Nouwen
Wait for Me by Rebecca St. James
I Kissed Dating Goodbye by Joshua Harris
Say Hello to Courtship by Joshua Harris
When God Writes Your Love Story by Eric and Leslie Ludy
When Dreams Come True by Eric and Leslie Ludy
Authentic Beauty by Leslie Ludy
Jesus Freaks by DC Talk
Captivating by Stasi Eldredge

I find solace in the fact that I at least read Oswald Chambers as a teenager, but all the rest of the titles are from a normal evangelical teenager’s library.
It’s funny how much you grow up in a few years. My high school friends and I have since had the conversation about how much we were concerned with God’s will in high school relationships and, rightly so, purity. I look at highschoolers now and the first words that come to mind are “You’re just babies.”—Especially in the area of relationships.
I was more concerned with the practice of things instead of the principle behind them….emotion instead of tradition: the definition of a highschooler. For instance, I swore off dating in high school simply because of the Josh Harris books and the attitude of my friends around me. I worshipped to feel God, not to praise Him as a part of the Body of Christ, as a part of the community.

Even though I was just a baby seeking out God, He used those youth group years just like He did those Sunday School years-to eventually form my heart and mind toward Him through scripture, people, crazy books about dating, and rock star like worship events.

If you would have told me in high school that I would come to love tradition in college, I would not have believed you. I would have never guessed that the baptismal promises the community made for me when I was a baby would come to mean so much to me. The years that I spent loving, hating, and growing up in the Catholic church taught me the rhythm of the liturgy, the importance of the Eucharist, and the faith of my family. The sacraments I have been a part of, like the anointing of the Holy Spirit in confirmation, are really special.

We all have crazy back stories. Now I feel all grown up reading things like Lauren F. Winner.

To Quote The Princess Bride: Maaaawwwiiiidge!

Standing next to Missy and Matt as they said their vows was one of the most special things I’ve done in this new adult life of mine. As I watched them promise to serve each other and put Christ at the center of their marriage, I couldn’t help but think about the promises we/the community makes for us at baptism. And it’s so fitting that baptism and marriage are communal events. We make promises even though we have no idea what the life ahead entails, but we can trust in God’s grace and the community to help us with those promises. It’s also powerful because we are acknowledging the fact that there will be days when we don’t feel like serving God or serving our spouse, but the community and God’s grace will be there. It's the whole idea of words and actions meaning more than feelings.
I’m thinking about ordering a picture of some part of the wedding and putting it up on my wall as sort of a start to a collection: the weddings that I’ve been a part of; remembering to be a community member to those that I’ve stood with as they promised their lives to each other. It makes me think ahead to those that I will inevitably be a part of in the future.

It’s safe to say that my love and hope for community was renewed.

I caught the bouquet….yeah, that’s right!

No More Octobers

Our first lady of Greenville College passed away last night. Like most students, I didn't have a lot of interaction with her personally-we all just knew her as the beautiful lady with great spiky hair that lived in the big white house at the end of campus. It was just this beauty that got me the closest to Ellen Mannoia-for Valentines Day the Papyrus did a section on The Fifteen Most Beautiful People of GC. I met with the President, told him my idea, and before I even got to express why I was there, he said, "And you want to feature Ellen, of course." Why yes, I did.
Being a student at GC for the last three years meant that Ellen updates had become a part of life. For a while she'd be doing good and would show up in chapel, or we'd hear about how they were doing on their sabatacle in Italy. She was always at graduation sitting in the exact same chair-I know because I observed her from the band for three years, including this year when she couldn't stand when she was recognized, so we stood for her. They announced that College Avenue-the building that I lived in this past year-was to be renamed after her. I've never been part of a longer or more meaningfull standing ovation in my entire life.
When we heard that Ellen had weeks left, two thoughts struck my mind: 1. I was a freshman at GC in chapel. She was speaking. She joked about how she and God had conversations every so often about her life-how she wanted to be there for her children's weddings and how her next conversation with God was going to be about grandchildren. 2. There would be no more Octobers for Ellen Mannoia.
Why had I thought this? Was it because the mere thought of having weeks to live was so impacting? Or was it because, as anyone who lives in Greenville knows, fall on campus and around town rivals any other beautiful place in the world. For a few short weeks, gold and orange and red hang in the air against the brick buildings and outside classroom windows and literally blankets campus. I looked forward to every morning I got up during fall this past year and walked from College Avenue to chapel. That is truly the best walk: trees lining the street, the GC sign, Hogue Hall in the background....and Joy house.
Ellen Mannoia was always subtlely a part of students' lives as she added to the beauty of Greenville College. I will remember her most in the fall this year, when the beauty outside contains a twinge of pain because it is so breathtaking.

Hedged In: The Beginning of Renewal

I am undone. Like twine being untwisted string by string.

The reason I’m supposed to be home: a lot of undoing for stuff that happened this past school year. Why do I feel like I’m on holiday at my house? Why am I just spending hours upon hours journaling, reading, praying? At the beginning of the summer I was determined to figure out what I was supposed to do. Now I feel like I’m just swept up in what is supposed to be rest and relaxation.
Why did I feel, all semester, that I would put my effort into things and it would feel as if I was getting nowhere? I’m coming back to joy. I’ve tried happiness for a long time, but it never lasts.

I’m seeking forgiveness in a lot of areas.

I’m seeing that God’s timing really does exist. This hedging in process shows that He really does care.

Some of the undoing (people that I need forgiveness from, ways that I need to say I’m sorry) flows freely from my heart because it just happened this semester: ways that I was stubborn, hurtful words, not being there for certain people, not loving the people who loved me. Other parts of the undoing come from a long time ago—areas that I don’t want to look at, areas that I just want to forget.

What’s exciting is that I know, after being undone, that God will rebuild me—especially to be an SRC in the fall.

Thank You, Lord, for Your powerful forgiveness.

Welcome to My Little Country House

Did anyone see the cheesy movie The Holiday? Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet traded houses for a week. John Krasinski made an appearance.

Well, I feel like I’m on a holiday…in my own house. I’ve been spending a lot of time here and for some reason this has made me appreciate my house so much more. I started to notice all the little country knick knacks my mom has around and I started thinking how much I would really enjoy it if I just got to stay here for the week as a stranger.
I look out the window and the corn and beans are growing. The sun has been shining brightly for the last couple of days. I drank about five glasses of tea, wrote a letter, and went to the post office. Tonight, I have a movie date with myself, the great work that is the Lord of the Rings, and a pizza sub.
I officially love summer in the Midwest.

Mini-Golf, Missy Sands, and The Mystery Caller

Last night was magical.
We mini-golfed while the sun set, the characterized fountains splashed around us, and the temperature brought out all the families with small children. It’s truly the summer.

Afterwards, Missy and I stood around in her apartment and talked about how, in six months time, Missy Sands is going to be a term that’s commonplace. Somewhere in the midst of looking at her in her apartment and realizing that, in a week’s time, I’m going to be standing next to her in a pink dress, I saw Missy for what she really was: a grown up. Never mind the fact that she has been engaged for a year and in a relationship for more than that. Never mind the fact that I’ve spent time with her and Matt together. It didn’t matter-she was still a single friend. She was still there to laugh at all of my stupid jokes, get all of the inside jokes, and understand when I talked to her about yet another boy. Yes, she’s been there since the first day of freshman year. Engaged, fiancé, wedding-none of those terms mattered.

And then I realized how different we were. She’s getting married-called to love Matt and to be a wife and to be one flesh. And I’m called to be in Tower, to be surrounded by girls in the apartment that I need to be around, and to be single.

Then the realization faded and she was just Missy again. No longer Missy Weatherby to me, but not yet Missy Sands.

In the middle of mini-golfing, I received a call on my cell phone from a private number. Without even thinking about it, I thought it was my brother. When I heard the male voice when I answered, I convinced myself it was him, calling because he was driving to Oklahoma and bored. Never mind that his cell phone would have registered on my caller id. I called Ryan after I got home and told him I was sorry that I couldn’t talk earlier….but he hadn’t called me.

The Phone Conversation:
Me: Hello?
Mystery Caller: Hey.
Me (in a happy to hear from you, but I’m doing something else voice): Hey, I’m mini-golfing right now!
MC: Oh really! With who?
Me (annoyed because I told Ryan about this earlier): The bride! Missy!
MC: Cool.
Me: Are you driving right now?
MC: Yes.
Me: Okay, well I’ll talk to you later.
MC: Ok

So my dad’s thinking that somebody tried to prank me. If so, I guess I got him! Especially the part at the end when I asked him if he was driving! I can only imagine how confused he was.

Are you the Mystery Caller?

Giving My Thoughts to Shia

I’m always jealous of people who say things like their worst fear is dying alone or wasting their life. I feel like that’s legitimate.

There is only one thing I’ve been afraid of my entire life: storms, tornadoes, anything that can be conjured up out of the sky that has the ability to wipe out everything that I know.
When I was little I used to go in my parents’ room or make my brother come sleep in my room.
I prayed for a solid month after my freshman year of college that it would not storm on solo during Walkabout like it had the past year.
Last night, we were supposed to get this crazy storm and, without even thinking about it, I grabbed my pillow and slept downstairs.

Reasons Why I Can Justify My Fear:
-My grandparents’ house was struck by lightning and it burnt to the ground when I was four. I remember digging through the ashes and the only things that were left over were coins that had melted together.
-My aunt and uncle’s house was struck by lightning and it left a hole in their ceiling.
-The transformer outside of my house was struck by lightning one summer and it melted all of our electronic devices.
-All of these places are within a two mile radius each other. So that saying that lighting never strikes the same place twice-wrong. It’s been scientifically proven that certain places attract lightning, and I’m convinced that I’m living in one of them.

When I was little, I used to cry to the point of being irrational because I was scared. My mom would tell me to think about something else. You know, think happy thoughts. So I would try desperately to think of stuff that I had to do at school the next day instead of thinking about all of the necessary precautions I would have to go through if I were the only one to hear the tornado sirens. I eventually started to imagine myself somewhere else.

The other night my brother and I were talking about the meanings of crazy dreams. For instance, what does it mean when you dream about a rabid horse? Or aliens? Or blacktop? He was on this website that talked about the importance of our daydreams-that it was important to pay attention to what our thoughts wandered to in the middle of the day.

I’ve become quite good at imagining myself somewhere else. The point is always to stop freaking out so I can relax and fall asleep and not have to go downstairs because I’m afraid. Well, last night I was with Shia LeBeouf.
And you have to understand-I don’t know if I perfected it as a child-but when I imagine myself somewhere else, it occupies my mind so much that I forget what is going on around me. It’s horrible for class, my eyes glaze over and I become catatonic and I completely miss what happened in the last five minutes.
So I closed my eyes and the first thing that popped into my head was Shia. We were in California and he lived right across the street from me. I called him on my cell phone, told him my fear, and ran over to his house in the rain. We sat on his couch and talked as it rained outside.

Let me just point out that it had never started raining outside in real life. I’m always anticipating so as to never be caught by surprise.
I ended up going downstairs and sleeping. Shia was not enough.
Right before I went to sleep, I thought about two things:
1. I was inside a house in a basement. Much better than being under a plastic tarp in the Smokey Mountains.
2. If there really was a tornado, I wouldn’t want Shia to come, I’d want God to. Then a thought popped into my head of someone reaching out to take my hand, and I was comforted.

I woke up this morning and my devotional was about “The God Who Calms Fears.”
I’m rereading Winner’s Girl Meets God and the part I read today talked about Winner giving up reading for Lent. Reading is her life. So she gives it up for 40 days in effort to give God something that means the world to her. She realized that she doesn’t just read for pleasure, but for escape. Lent reminds her, then, that she can’t just take her fears, sadness, and mistakes to the Mitford series, she has to take them to God.
It’s a simple truth, right? Cast your cares and fears upon the Lord?

Hedged In

This sentence from the end of the Winner book I just read is haunting me. She was talking about a man struggling with premarital sex and the fact that he thought he was ‘damaged goods’ because he kept struggling with it. Winner put a new paradigm around his struggle and said that he was just trying to be a faithful Christian; in other words: don’t give up because you aren’t perfect in an area, keep struggling to find balance even though you’re struggling with something negative—as most struggles are.

I’ve become okay with certain things that I struggle with instead of being the Restorative freak that I am and jumping on any chance to reconstruct an area of my life. This is why, when I was journaling the other day with sleep in my eyes and my feet getting cold from being out of the blankets on my bed, it was so important when this thought entered my head-I started thinking about the book of Hosea and how God ‘hedged in’ the woman Israel and told her that He would renew her and that the Valley of Achor (trouble) would become the Door of Hope. (This is why I want to be faithful to scripture-so God can bring it to my memory because there actually IS a memory.)
Certain thought processes, like this one, mean God. I just know that they are. And this certain one meant everything from renewal to it being okay that I was just in my house for the summer reading and journaling and praying because God was ‘hedging me in.’ He has me where He wants me and I can trust that it’s good.

Reading Winner also makes me want to run back to Greenville in hopes of lots of syllabi that tell me to buy wonderful books concerning theology and religion, much akin to the book lists received with the Hogwarts end of summer letter. I remember when I found my place at Greenville by becoming an English major. I would jog up the stairs of Hogue hall, turn right on the second floor and immediately see the Platform 9 and ¾ sign above Dr. Martin’s door on the left side of the hall. I knew I was in the right place. Old books sitting out in boxes because the book cases inside of the offices simply could not hold anymore books and professors just resorted to giving them away to the avid readers. I remember sitting in classes with people that loved books-people who, just like me, read the most in their high school classes and dreamed of being English teachers just like the ones they had that inspired them so much.
As much as I loved fitting so well in my English major for two years, I never dreamed I would find my home on the right side of the hall of second Hogue: the Religion department. Pretty much the English department with a specific focus. I can’t wait to learn about the evolution of worship with Brian Hartley, or the History of Judaism with Christina Smerick. These people are the combination of the loves of reading, researching, seeking answers and coming to conclusions: the successful marriage between English and Religion, the essence of Emily Bishop.
If Lauren F. Winner was a professor at Greenville, her office would be on the second floor. Whether it would be on the left or right side would be a matter of opinion. Her talent for writing would place her on the left, her subject matter would place her on the right.

I want to be her.

Winner also has the gift of showing how God has moved in her life without actually saying that He has. For me, I know that I found God when I get up for class at ten thirty in the morning and listened to Hartley talk about the Pauline Epistles. I found God when Smerick was talking about faith and Kierkegaard. And what was great about this was that it was a process. Now I can look back and see what it all meant at the time and what it means for now.

So it’s okay, that right at this moment, I have no idea about a lot of stuff: this summer, next year as an SRC (when my thought process just leads to-holy mother, what am I getting myself into?), AFTER COLLEGE (gasp). Because God’s more of a big picture, process, journey type omniscient being. And He’s always faithful to be found when I open those religion books, or my journal, or when I talk to any of my close friends.

Faithful is a good word for Him.

Real Sex by Lauren F. Winner

I didn’t think I would get into this book as much as I did with Girl Meets God simply because GMG was so good, but as I kept reading I was pleasantly surprised. The subtitle to this book is ‘the naked truth about chastity.’ Winner uses the book as a platform to talk about the role of the Body of Christ in the area of sex, marriage, and singleness. She also uses a great portion of the book to discuss the view of our individual physical bodies. I really took a lot away from it.

Some favorite quotes: (Concerning the idea of couples being exclusive even in marriage): “The history of dance, Berry says, is illustrative: in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, “the old ring dances, in which all couples danced together,” were gradually replaced by “social ballroom dancing, in which each couple dances alone.” For many people today, of course, social ballroom dancing is a thing of the past. It has been replaced by the rave, in which a crowd of people dance not so much as a community, but as a group of individuals, boogying in the same room, alone.”

(Concerning the lie that sex always has to be exciting): “Our task is not to cultivate moments when eros can whisk us away from our ordinary routines, but rather to love each other as eros becomes embedded in, and transformed by, the daily warp and woof of married life. For in household sexuality, we see the ways of our daily human struggles offer the only language we have to call ourselves to God’s grace.”

“What fasting is slowly teaching me is the simple lesson that I am not utterly subject to my bodily desires.”

“Perhaps we ought not fixate on the call of lifelong singleness. Some people, of course, are called to lifelong singleness, but more of us are called to singleness for a spell, if even a very long spell. Often, our task is to discern a call to singleness for right now, and that’s not so difficult. If you are single right now, you are called, right now, to be single-called to live single life as robustly, and gospel-conformingly, as you possibly can.”

“Singleness tells us, for starters, of a radical dependence on God. In marriage, it is tempting to look to one’s spouse to meet all one’s needs. But those who live alone, without the companionship and rigor of marriage and sex, are offered an opportunity to realize that it is God who sustains them.”

“Too often, the church seems to suggest that sexual sin cannot be forgiven. Martin has every reason to wonder if he should bother with sexual discipline. We hear from the pulpit and read in the pages of magazines and books that “sexual sin doesn’t ever go away totally. They live on, like ghosts, in all future relationships, and can do real damage there.” We learn that premarital sex “can scar a marriage for a lifetime.” We read that if we have premarital sex, then, come our wedding day, the specters of the other men or women we slept with will hover around our betrothed.” This language of scars and ghosts that sexual sin is wholly different from any other sort of sin. That its consequences last forever. That somehow, Jesus’ saving work on the cross does not cover this. All of those suggestions, of course, are patently false.”

I especially identify with the last one. I think any kid that has gone to youth group or read a book on sex or done that experiment where you chew up Doritos and spit it into water and mix the water with other kids’ cups have a distorted view on sexual sin. Winner talks about the last experiment in her book and it is quite comical.
This is not to say that you should go out and have sex. Read the book and find out what Winner has to say : ).

Today I was driving home from Greenville and the sun was shining, there were white puffy clouds in the sky, and everything was green. My radio landed on a hit country station (where I may or may not have known all of the lyrics) and for a brief moment in hillsboro I was behind a normal looking guy on a harley (not the harley type) with his daughter riding behind him on the bike. She was probably eight, had a harley do-rag and pink crocks. It made my heart smile.