Happy Things

Today Daryl and I begin our trek north to Wisconsin. Hooray! We are frantically packing and cleaning and showering and loading all of our clothing and Christmas presents into the car. But I thought I'd pause here for a list of happiness at the end of another long, hard season of finals. In no particular order, this is what I'm happy about today:

Happy Things

10. I have wonderful friends in Princeton who are watching our cats. This is huge. Eliot and Kenny will have fresh food, water, and litter, and someone to scratch them behind the ears now and then. This is the kind of thing I will really miss after I leave Princeton and move to some random Nashville neighborhood without 100 other seminary students...

9. I have finished my Christmas shopping! And it was really fun this year. When a budget is tight, and a person doesn't do much shopping, Christmas shopping is way fun. And I love giving presents. Love it.

8. Friend visits. We are on our way to see several good friends in Chicago on our drive up. While I'm always sad we can't see everyone (and we want to, all you Chicago peeps!), it's great to reconnect with those we love in our favorite city.

7. Chicago foods... Yes, we are hoping to stop at Los Burritos. Yes, that's the place where you can get a $4 burrito that's bigger than your head. Yes, Daryl can occasionally eat two of those. Yes, it's both disgusting and impressive.

6. Driving. I'm not a huge fan of driving, really. But when I've been a) separated from my husband for the past four months, and b) turned into a brain-dead zombie by my final exams, driving is great. We'll get a good chance to reconnect, listen to bad Christmas music on the radio (see my earlier post...), and eat gas-station candy. Love it.

5. I am DONE with finals. Praise God. Just... really. Praise God.

4. I am on my way to see my family! I haven't seen the whole family together in quite awhile. And my little niece Aleah is getting BIG and hilarious. And I miss my sisters. And my parents. And my grandparents. And home.

3. I am on my way to Wisconsin! I can't wait to be in Wisconsin. Can't wait. My soul can breathe better up there.

2. It's almost Christmas. 

1. It's almost CHRISTMAS!!! I'm super excited about this. I love Christmas. Love, love, love Christmas. Love it.

Merry early Christmas, friends! What are you happy about?

10 Books You Should Read (and can Borrow from Me!)

Now that I've put my textbooks on the shelf for the next few weeks (anyone interested in reading Hebrew commentaries? Anyone? I haaaave some for you!), my thoughts have turned to the place they usually do: NOW what do I read?

Daryl laughed at me yesterday when he found me on the couch with a new novel. I turned in my paper and, feeling a bit lost after all the pressure of finals, Rider, and prepping our apartment and cats for three weeks without me (don't worry, they have people checking in on them!), opened a book. Books have always been my comfort when I feel lost.

This morning, with nothing pressing, I'm in my pajamas, reading. Comedien Jim Gaffigan says that he would love to spend his life in bed. "I just had a bed day! Everyone wants one, but no one is quick to volunteer that information. 'Were you sick?' No, I was in heaven." Yeah, that's been my morning. And it's glorious.

So I got to thinking, what are the books that have really stuck with me during the past few years? What are ten books I would recommend to almost any friend, anytime, anywhere? Here are my current ten novels-I-love.

10. The Known World - Edward P. Jones

This one was a challenge, I'll admit. The "well, it won the Pulitzer, I might as well give it another page or two" kept me going. It's work to read, but it's worth it. Known is a really interesting account of a slave-owning African-American family in Virginia in the late 19th century. Did you know that there were African-Americans who owned slaves? Me neither. Jones's characters are rich and full, and his take on history is really interesting.

9. On Beauty - Zadie Smith

I love Zadie Smith. White Teeth is great, too, though I like this one a little bit more. I've heard she's completely cranky and ridiculous in interviews, which kind of makes me like her more. If I was a famous author, I would totally give myself permission to be eccentric and kooky (albeit brilliantly so) in public. It's a bit racy in places, so avoid it if that's not your thing.

8. The Life of Pi - Yann Martel

Every year I give my brother-in-law Jared my favorite novel of the year. Two years ago it was Gilead (see #2), and last year it was The Life of Pi. Once you get through the self-important first chapter (I am a highly educated man who thinks much of himself!), it becomes a fast-paced, exciting read with a surprising conclusion that will make you want to read the whole thing again right away. Kind of like Lost, but set in a boat with only a handful of characters.

7. A Prayer for Owen Meany - John Irving

Yes, John Irving kind of hates women. Yes, I have a problem with that. Yes, this is a fantastic book. No, it should never have been made into a movie.

6. The History of Love - Nicole Krauss

I just mailed this to my friend Inga (who is all the way over in Iraq right now - Hi, Inga!). I love this book. It's not as love-story-ish as the title makes it sound, yet it is about love. And life. And regret. And a really sweet old man who struggles with everyday life. Worth reading and keeping.

5. The Parable of the Sower - Octavia Butler

Octavia Butler is an African-American science fiction writer (one of the first of her kind). I normally hate sci-fi, but this novel is simply set in the future. There are no aliens and nothing goes into space. This book turns ideas of power and responsibility on their heads, describes a west-coast apocalypse, and is all told from the perspective of a 17-year old girl. Dr. Pierce assigned this class for her "American Religion/American Literature course, and to her I say a hearty thanks. I'm secretly hoping that I get the sequel (The Parable of the Talents) in my stocking this Christmas...

4. The Namesake - Jhumpa Laihiri

Daryl's step-mom, Deborah, is a member of a really great book club. Sometimes I get the books when she's done (which I love, love, love). This was her most recent gifting to me. The Namesake follows the story of a young Indian-American boy named Gogol, his family's difficulties in assimilating to American life, and his own search for identity. It's a beautiful story about family, history, and finding the courage to be yourself. Also, as someone who had the last name "Belcher" (which always does raise some eyebrows when meeting new folks) up until three years ago, I loved Gogol's name-related questioning even more.

3. Snow Flower and the Secret Fan - Lisa See

This is another book I gleaned from Deborah's kindness. Set in China, it follows a young girl's struggle with friendship, honesty, class, and identity. For anyone who has struggled with girl friendships (and really, who hasn't? fifth grade is rough), this is a great read. It also has a terrifying scene involving foot-binding, which I didn't know was so utterly horrific. It made me very, very thankful for my nice size-8's.

2. Gilead - Marilynne Robinson

This novel is glorious. Set in Iowa, it follows an aging minister (John Ames), as he seeks to leave a legacy for his seven-year old son. It's one of the best expressions of Christianity in popular literature, and the novel moves at a pace that is slow and reflective but never boring. Reading this novel is like taking a trip out to the countryside during a mild and sunny summer. You can almost feel the breeze and smell the trees. This one never fails to refresh my soul.

1. Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides

Daryl says that I just like to say "Eugenides." That's true. Say it! It's fun. But besides the fact that he has a super-fun Greek name, Eugenides is an incredible author. Don't let the Oprah sticker throw you off (and besides, I read this one before Oprah put her sticker on it, which makes me feel proud to be ahead of the masses AND proves that the book is good ,not just mass-market good). If you're interested in questions of gender-identity, or just up for a suck-you-in story that covers over three generations (reminiscent of Steinbeck's East of Eden), this is a fantastic read. Even Daryl's about halfway through, and he's not big on reading novels.

I loved Middlesex so much I read Eugenides first award-winner, The Virgin Suicides, last year. A word of advice? Don't. The books couldn't be more different, and Suicides is just flat-out creepy and sad.

Honorable mention: My Friend Leonard - James Frey

Yes, I know. James Frey got in big trouble. But as someone who writes creative nonfiction herself, I say: WHO CARES? The man can write. And whether or not he added bits and pieces to his personal story of recovery matters much less than the fact that A Million Little Pieces was an incredible work of literature. I reread it almost every year, and I cry every time.

My Friend Leonard is the sequel to Little Pieces. It follows up on the relationship between Frey and his friend, gangster-boss and recovering addict Leonard. It ends with a conclusion I never saw coming.

On my Wish List:
2. The Parable of the Talents - Octavia Butler
1. Peace Like a River - Leif Enger

Anyone have a book to add (or hated one of the ones I listed)? What are your favorite reads from the past few years? What helps you to relax at the end of a tough season?

Thursday Recipes - Stir Fry Sauce

Hello, friends!

It is Thursday. Today is happy for many, many reasons.

1. I am in Nashville, with the man I love (and happen to be married to!).
2. I turned in my final, final paper at 6pm yesterday. Thus, finals season have ended for me, and I am free to be sleepy, brain-dead, and full of Christmas spirit. I can also read novels for FUN now, which is a great gift.
3. I turned in my final grades for Rider, and I'm done being a teacher until mid-January. This is a break I always look forward to with great anticipation. No more quizzes to grade, lessons to plan, or lectures to give. Allllll done.
4. Daryl turns in his final paper at 5pm today. After that, I get my husband back. Hallelujah.
5. I have pumpkin bread baking in the oven. Mmmmm. If it turns out, it'll be next week's GF recipe.

Asian food is a great way to go if you're dining with someone who is gluten-free. However, soy sauce usually contains wheat, and many other good Asian sauces contain soy sauce (teriyaki, for one). You can buy gluten-free soy sauce, but it's also pretty easy to make your own tasty stir-fry sauce. Below are the two favorites I've come up with lately. I love making sauces because they're pretty difficult to mess up, as long as you taste them along the way. Do they need more salt? More oil? More seasoning? Add it in!

Sweet Lemon Ginger Stir-Fry Sauce

1/2 c. lemon juice
1/4 c. brown sugar
3 T. olive oil
1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. roasted red pepper
1 t. ground ginger
1 T. corn starch

This is great with chicken, stir-fry veggies (I love carrots, snow peas, baby corn, and water chestnuts) and jasmine rice.

Hot Pepper Stir-Fry Sauce

2 cloves minced garlic
1/2 c. beef broth
1 t. cider vinegar
1/4 t. ground ginger
1/4 t. black pepper
1/4 t. hot pepper sauce
1 T. olive oil
1 T. corn starch

This is tasty with beef, onions, and red & green peppers, served over brown rice. Mmmmm.

Piano Dancing

Hello friends,

Well, two papers down and two more to finish up. There's beginning to be a light at the end of the tunnel, though it's quite faint.

So, for today, a simple video from my sister Cait to put a smile on your face. Nothing like music and exercise at the same time!

Bach on the Big Piano.

Thursday Recipes - Beware Betty Crocker Gluten-Free Mixes

Hello, friendly friends.

So, no recipe today. I'm 40 pages into my 70 pages of research-paper writing (and no, that's not one long paper - it'd be easier if it was), so blogging is not high on the ol' priority list.

Instead, a word of advice:

I went to the grocery store a few weeks ago and was thrilled to find Gluten-Free Betty Crocker baking mixes! Right by the regular cake and cookie mixes! They're pricey ($3.99 apiece here in Jersey, for mixes that make 12 cupcakes, a small pan of brownies, or 18 cookies), but I thought it'd be worth it to try them for convenience sake (as well as sanity's sake, as I bake like a madwoman when as I get stressed during school).

Results? Blech. My basic criteria for gluten-free baking is: Does it taste better than a Snickers? Snickers and Butterfinger bars are gluten-free, cheap, tasty, and satisfy my sweet tooth. No sense in baking if I'd rather just gnaw on a fun-size candy bar...

As for Betty's new line, I've tried the following three mixes:

Yellow cake. Just tried this one tonight. Even bought chocolate frosting to go with it (all Pillsbury frostings except the German Chocolate one are gluten-free!). This was by FAR the worst of the bunch. I didn't even finish one cupcake before I threw out the whole lot. They taste chemical-y (despite containing no chemicals) and like potato starch gone bad. Ick. Ick, ick, ick.

Brownies. These were pretty good when warm, though they had kind of a weird aftertaste. Unfortunately, they quickly turned into cute little brownie-rocks after they cooled. I had to chip them out of the pan to throw them out a couple of days later. The taste wasn't awful, but the texture could ruin all your fillings... Pamela's Brownie mix makes the best GF brownies I've had so far. These didn't compare.

Chocolate chip cookies. I have yet to find a good chocolate chip cookie recipe where the cookies don't A) fall apart, or B) taste like bad potato starch. These held together pretty well, and were quite tasty when fresh from the oven (I think I ate about four right away... they turned me into the gluten-free cookie monster). But as soon as they cooled, they tasted stale. And icky. And like bad potato starch.

So if you're really desperate and don't want to buy all the crazy gluten-free flours needed for baking (white rice flour, brown rice flour, tapioca flour, potato starch, potato flour, xantham gum, etc., etc., etc.), the chocolate chip cookies will do, but eat them FAST. The brownies will do, too, but you have to eat the entire pan right away, which may not be a good use of resources (or waistline treatment...). Or make 1/4 of the batter at a time, and refrigerate or freeze the rest.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Joy

I've been thinking a lot about joy lately. During Daryl's first year of seminary he took a class taught by Ellen Charry on the theology of happiness. The course title brought smiles from a lot of people when it was mentioned, yet the course proved to be really rich and full.

During my time as a teaching assistant I spend many hours teaching seminary students how to read the Psalms aloud. There is such joy in the Psalms, and such honesty. I love that many of them turn from dark lament to the fullness of joy in only a verse or two. I love that they teach us that there is no emotion that is unacceptable to God, and that we can be honest before God in our pain, our frustration, our anger, and our joy.

Sometimes it takes students a long time before they're willing to read the Psalms with any emotion. They read "Praise the Lord in his sanctuary" the same as "I wish you would crush my enemies underfoot," quietly and blandly. Yet the Psalms are one important place in the Bible where we can put ourselves into the Psalmist's poetry. When have we wanted to praise? What does our joy sound like?

C. S. Lewis called joy a "very serious business," and I'll admit it's not always my deepest emotion. I can be quick to complain unless everything is going well.

I've had a nasty cold since last Friday, which makes me even quicker to complain. Yet yesterday was a great day, despite my cold. I gave a class presentation that (I think) went really well, I had some great classes, and at the end of the day, my friend Brandi brought over a warm loaf of gluten-free bread that she baked to help me feel better. My day was full of joy, yet my body was achy and sick. The incongruousness of my physical feeling with my emotional high made me stop and think. So often how much joy I feel is dependent upon external factors all working out for the best. Yet, I felt awful, but I felt good. Maybe this is what joy really is. Not external happiness because all is well, but a deep and abiding sense that God is God and we are loved and, as Julian of Norwich is famous for saying, "All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well." In this, there is joy.

My course on the interpretation of Job is coming to an end, and during today's lecture the professor was asked if there is any hint of a "happy ending" at the end of Job's difficult and dramatic book. He responded simply, "At the end there is no longer a simplistic faith, but a simple affirmation of God." After all Job has been through he has no easy answers, and God doesn't give him any easy ones. Yet God is God, and Job is able to rest after he learns this. Even Job finds a hint of joy.

For more ponderings on joy, here's a great editorial from Christianity Today.

I especially love their conclusion that "We do well to recall how the incarnate God began his ministry among us. He never relented from the message that, though life comes only by way of death, life really is the point." Discipline is important. Obedience is vital. Turning from sin can't be forgotten. But life is really the point. That's why the Gospel is good news.

Amen. And Merry Christmas.

 (Images borrowed from here and here.)

Sunday Poems - Shel Silverstein's "Where the Sidewalk Ends"

I've always loved this poem. It's great for kids, and I was a kid when I started to love it. Then I took a class during my first year of college called "The Performance of Literature." The professor - the eccentric and theatrical Dave Reifsnyder - had me read it to another student like that student was my dying husband. It gave the poem a whole new meaning.

This poem came to mind sometimes during my summer hospital chaplaincy, when I was standing at the bedside of a dying patient or in the waiting room with their grieving family.


Where the Sidewalk Ends
by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson-bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Princeton's First Snow

It snowed today! Just a little, and none of it stuck, but for a girl from Wisconsin, December 5 is quite a long time to wait for snow, and even a little bit was quite welcome.

I have picked up a nasty cold somewhere, so my day was spent on the couch watching several Harry Potter movies. Thanks, ABCFamily! I also brainstormed some Christmas present ideas. After planning to make people presents this year, and then falling far behind in my sewing and crafting (come to think of it, that whole idea was pretty overambitious...), I'm now planning my shopping trips instead. It's all for the best, I suppose.

Anyone have any good homemade present ideas? Has anyone received a homemade gift they really loved? Over the past few years I've gotten some really great earrings from my sisters and some adorable potholders from my friend Tonia. And then there are the yearly "shiny pants" pajamas my mom makes for all of us (even the sons-in-law! gotta love that!). I love handmade stuff.

There are some great ideas over at the DIY section of Design Sponge (the link is over there to the right), if you have the time and the inclination.


Okay, off to bed to try to kill off this cold...

It's not even a game!

There will be a lot of short posts with funny links this week. Finals, and their connected insanity, are upon me for the next two weeks, and that's about all I've got in me...

Today, in honor of Daryl and to make you laugh, take a moment to remember that it's not even a game, it's just practice.

God bless uninhibited athletes and their ability to just say whatever.

Thursday Recipes - Irish Potato Chowder

Happy Thursday! Today's recipe is a modified version of my all-time favorite soup. In the world. That my dad always made in a giant, silver soup pot, and served to my family on cold, snowy winter days. Sigh. Yes, I am feeling nostalgic about soup that I will probably be eating in two and a half weeks when I'm home...

Finals season makes me crazy. I stay up all night, eat odd things at odd hours, start cleaning things I normally don't clean ("Gosh, it's really dusty under the bed!"), and start developing a twitchy-eyed, glassy, thousand-yard stare. Luckily, Daryl finds this whole thing endearing, though this year he'll only get to hear about it from a distance. The only thing that helps me through is remembering that none of this is permanent, and that I'm two (count them! TWO!) finals seasons away from graduating. And never having to do this again. Woot.

Anyway, this is a modified, gluten-free version of the recipe from his Ovens of Brittany cookbook. Ovens of Brittany is a really popular restaurant in Madison, Wisconsin. If you like good wintry food, this cookbook is a winner. So good. So, so good. And if you're not anti-gluten, eat it with a giant loaf of warm bread. If you're not so much with the gluten, well... then just eat it. It's so good you may not miss the bread.

This soup has the added benefit of being meat-free, which makes it nice and affordable if you have some of the spices already on hand. Don't skip the hot pepper sauce - it makes a huge difference!

Irish Potato Chowder

To make roux:
5 1/2 Tbs butter
8 Tbs rice or potato flour (you can use 7 Tbs of regular flour if you're not gluten-intolerant)

Melt butter in a small saucepan. Mix in flour and cook over low heat for a 3-5 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and set aside.

For soup:
1 1/2 T. butter
1 chopped white onion
1 1/2 c. chopped carrots (I like bigger pieces, like half the size of a baby carrot)
1 1/2 c. chopped celery (same)
1 t. basil
1 t. parsley
1 t. dried chives
4-5 c. vegetable or chicken stock (make sure this is gluten-free - lots of broth brands contain gluten)
5 c. peeled, diced potatoes
3 c. milk (the higher the percentage, the creamier the soup - I use skim and it's still tasty)
1/2 c. sour cream
1/2 t. hot pepper sauce
salt and white pepper to taste

Melt butter in a large soup pot; add onions, carrots, celery, basil, parsley and chives; cook about 10 minutes.

Add stock and potatoes and simmer until potatoes are tender (15-20 minutes).

Stir in milk; return to simmer and whisk in roux until liquid is thickened and smooth. Simmer 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, then add sour cream, hot pepper sauce, and salt and white pepper.

Because it's Finals Season...

Three things to make you laugh:

1. The sneezing panda: here.

2. The Wagnerian lemur: here.

3. And, for you hockey fans...

Happy lose-your-mind season, fellow students!

Christmas on the Radio

Every December I become inordinately excited to listen to Christmas music again. I resist it all fall, but come December 1, it is on. I used to just turn on the radio and enjoy the abundance of Christmas-ness it provided. However, with the secularization of Christmas culture in America, this has turned out to be a huge bummer during the past few years.

Gone are the songs about any spiritual or Jesus-centered aspect of Christmas. The top ten songs on the Christmas-y radio stations around here seem to be:

1. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus (gross, if you think about it)
2. Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer (um... sure...)
3. Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree (woo hoo...)
4. Jingle Bell Rock (since when is Christmas about "rockin' the night away?" also - the movie "Mean Girls" has ruined this song for me forever)
5. White Christmas (probably the best of the bunch)
6. Santa Baby (ew. just... ew.)
7. That stupid Hawaiian Christmas song (I'm in NEW JERSEY for pete's sake!)
8. I'll be Home for Christmas (depressing)
9. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (all I can hear in my head are the little asides all youth group kids know to this song - "Like a light bulb!" "Like Pinnochio!" "Like Monopoly!")
10. Blue Christmas (what is the obsession with sexualizing Christmas? and Santa? good heavens...)

Lucky for all of us, there's Pandora. This has become the fuel for my Christmas music obsession. If you haven't heard of it, just click on this link.

Pandora lets you select a song or artist you like and plays you songs that fit within that theme. And it's free! As far as Christmas stations go, their "classical" Christmas is quite good (though heavy on the "Good King Wenceslas" for whatever reason). Lots of Silent Night and Holy Night and Joy to the World and all the  good stuff. For a better sing-a-long selection, I like Jar's of Clay's "Little Drummer Boy" station or Sufjan Stevens' Christmas.

Anyway, Merry early Christmas. And don't let your radio stations scam you out of singing to Jesus in celebration!

Because we all need a laugh on Monday...

Having a case of the Mondays?

This might help.

A college comedian takes on Pachelbel's Canon, playing the cello as a kid, and the musical sameness of modern pop and rock... And it's hilarious.

Sunday Poems - Billy Collins's "Marginalia"

I've decided to post a favorite, thought-provoking, or just plain fun poem here each Sunday. Today's inaugural poem is "Marginalia" by Billy Collins, a wonderful, wonderful poem that only gets better when read aloud. Enjoy!

Marginalia - Billy Collins

Sometimes the notes are ferocious,
skirmishes against the author
raging along the borders of every page
in tiny black script.
If I could just get my hands on you,
Kierkegaard, or Conor Cruise O'Brien,
they seem to say,
I would bolt the door and beat some logic into your head.

Other comments are more offhand, dismissive -
"Nonsense." "Please!" "HA!!" -
that kind of thing.
I remember once looking up from my reading,
my thumb as a bookmark,
trying to imagine what the person must look like
why wrote "Don't be a ninny"
alongside a paragraph in The Life of Emily Dickinson.

Students are more modest
needing to leave only their splayed footprints
along the shore of the page.
One scrawls "Metaphor" next to a stanza of Eliot's.
Another notes the presence of "Irony"
fifty times outside the paragraphs of A Modest Proposal.

Or they are fans who cheer from the empty bleachers,
Hands cupped around their mouths.
"Absolutely," they shout
to Duns Scotus and James Baldwin.
"Yes." "Bull's-eye." "My man!"
Check marks, asterisks, and exclamation points
rain down along the sidelines.

And if you have managed to graduate from college
without ever having written "Man vs. Nature"
in a margin, perhaps now
is the time to take one step forward.

We have all seized the white perimeter as our own
and reached for a pen if only to show
we did not just laze in an armchair turning pages;
we pressed a thought into the wayside,
planted an impression along the verge.

Even Irish monks in their cold scriptoria
jotted along the borders of the Gospels
brief asides about the pains of copying,
a bird signing near their window,
or the sunlight that illuminated their page-
anonymous men catching a ride into the future
on a vessel more lasting than themselves.

And you have not read Joshua Reynolds,
they say, until you have read him
enwreathed with Blake's furious scribbling.

Yet the one I think of most often,
the one that dangles from me like a locket,
was written in the copy of Catcher in the Rye
I borrowed from the local library
one slow, hot summer.
I was just beginning high school then,
reading books on a davenport in my parents' living room,
and I cannot tell you
how vastly my loneliness was deepened,
how poignant and amplified the world before me seemed,
when I found on one page

A few greasy looking smears
and next to them, written in soft pencil-
by a beautiful girl, I could tell,
whom I would never meet-
"Pardon the egg salad stains, but I'm in love."

Well Worth a Trip to NJ

Yesterday, my final full day with Daryl before (sniff, sniff) dropping him off at the Philly airport this afternoon, we decided to explore a landmark we've wanted to visit for months: Grounds for Sculpture. It was awesome. As Daryl said several times, "Why didn't we do this sooner?"

Grounds for Sculpture is located about 10 minutes from Princeton in the industrial part of Hamilton, NJ. It's $8 for students, $10 for adults, and it's an enormous 35-acre landscaped park full of sculptures. It's so cleverly laid out that you'll often be confronted with an enormous work of art when you climb over a hill or turn around.

There's a warming hut, a gazebo, a Wind in the Willows themed restaurant (with dinners starting at $35 we contentedly ate fruit snacks while checking it out from the bridge), and over 200 sculptures of all types, shapes, and sizes.

 

Some of the sculptures are modeled after impressionist paintings. Recognize the one above, with the red poppies?

 

This one made me walk around quoting lines from "So I Married an Axe Murderer" in a faux-Scottish accent, much to Daryl's annoyance.

"HEAD! Pants, NOW!"

"Honestly, that kid's head is like Sputnik! It's round, but quite pointed in places!"

There are also several indoor galleries that have rotating exhibits. For the next month they have these beautiful and intricate metal sculptures by Albert Paley, who I had never heard of before, but now love.

Daryl always hits on the 19th century women... I think it's the hats that really draw him in...

An 8-foot tall King Lear. It was windy and gusty all day, so I loved how this giant metal man actually looked like he was reacting to the elements.

I especially appreciated the fact that the whole place seemed to have a sense of humor. I love art, but the snobby parts of art culture get old pretty quickly. This place was the anti-snob version of every nose-in-the-air art museum I've been to (except for the ridiculous Princeton-esque father dragging around his four kids and making comments like, "Now you see the angle on this one signifies that the artist was commenting on the idea of light. It is meant to be viewed from this angle, here." The kids looked like they wanted to kill themselves).

But aside from the odd stage-father, it's a great place to enjoy art, enjoy nature, and just play. It's fun to see the sculptures change as the daylight does. There are no guards or ropes or security cameras. Just hundreds of sculptures spread out among trees and flowers and ponds. You're allowed to climb on many of the sculptures, for crying out loud. You don't have to stay on the trails. Any little alley that looks fun is open for exploration. And they seem to have thought of everything. It's open year-round, which seemed odd, as it gets pretty cold and snowy here by February or so. But by the time Daryl and I were getting chilly (he packed to come out so quickly that he only had a hoodie to keep him warm!) we stumbled upon a warming hut with a big fire place. Can't beat that.

Well worth a visit.

Why Being a Student is Actually a Good Thing

I am a student.

For the past 22 years of my life (with the exception of one year off to work) I have been a student. My job is to read and study, to write papers and to do research. I've known I've had a nerdy streak all my life. This streak really started growing in high school. It was not very normal to like learning at Northland Pines High. We had a period called "resource," which was intended to be a 35-minute study hall each day. I remember sitting in resource as a sophomore and reading some novel or other for fun. It was probably Robert Louis Stevenson - I got on quite a kick of his for awhile. Anyway, I was quietly reading this novel when the girl who sat behind me (who was, in ways I was not and will never be, cool), tapped me on the shoulder. She rarely deigned to speak to me, a nerdy nerd, so I quickly turned around.

"Is that for a class?" she asked.

"No," I replied. "I'm just reading it on my own."

"Huh," she said, her thickly eye-lined eyes studying my own, quiet confused. "Well... do you want to borrow my Cosmo?"

Nice of her to ask. Surely anyone reading a book that wasn't for a class must be fresh out of magazines.

That was twelve years ago, and I'm still the one reading the books for fun, even if they're textbooks. At this point, it looks like I'm about six months from the end of my formal education. In the coming months I will begin to look for a ministerial job and end my official time as "student." I've been reflecting a lot lately on what it has meant to be a student, how students are treated in our culture, and on how I will continue to be a student even after the end of this degree.

This summer I interned as a hospital chaplain at a hospital in north Jersey. My supervisors were always quick to point out that if I got stuck in an awkward or difficult situation, it was always okay to proclaim my student status. The "I'm a student" or "I'm still in training" line would hopefully give people more compassion and understanding if I made a misstep. Yet, I often found the opposite.

The "I'm just a student" line was often greeted with raised eyebrows and a brush off. "Oh," people would say. "Can you get me the nurse?" In a teaching hospital where nine out of ten doctors were still "students" in the sense of being interns or in residency, a student chaplain seemed unprofessional. I quickly learned to keep that information to myself as much as possible. After all, who really wants someone to "practice" ministry on them?

Then I realized how I was introducing myself. "Just a student." I was demeaning my position on my own, leading them to believe I really was just. I had decided that being a student chaplain was far, far less than being an actual chaplain, and projecting my fear of inadequacy all over my patients and their families. With prayer and some wise instruction from my supervisors, I soon I changed the wording, and the confidence with which I presented myself. And suddenly I began doing ministry, not just playing at it.

These tricky moments helped me to reflect on what it means to be a student. Often we think of being a student as not knowing it all yet, or in the process of formation. If that is the definition, then I hope to always be a student. Both Goethe and Nietzsche agreed that those who "cease to change are not my friends." There is something about Christianity that necessitates discipleship and formation. We don't know it all yet. In fact, we never will.

The best pastors I know are all, by their own admission, still students. My CPE supervisors admitted to learning from us even as they taught. These role models of mine study the Scriptures, the tradition, our culture, their congregations. Many of them have returned or are currently working on advanced degrees to keep sharp and broaden their knowledge bases. There are different types of learning, of course. Some of us aren't the bookish types, and gravitate more toward the study of art or music, relationships or culture. That's fine - learning comes from all over, the key is to keep being open to it, and to seek it out. There's a whole crazy, interesting, wonderful world out there.

One of my favorite things about my parents is that they love to learn. My mom is always delving into some new craft or art project, and back when my sisters and I were homeschooled, she read dozens of books on the subject in order to help us succeed. My dad picks up things from baking bread to using Facebook to writing nonfiction. They are both eager to explore the world, and in part because of them, I am, too.

The moment we all decide that the student status is a lowly one, rather than the highest one, we stop growing ourselves. So be kind to the students in your life, or to yourself if you are one. Give your favorite student a hug - holing up with books and papers is often lonely. Admit to not knowing something this week, and ask to learn from someone who knows. There's no such thing as "just a student."

Thursday Recipes - Pumpkin Pie with GF Crust

I've gone gluten-free. Yes, I know... For those of you who know me, this must be a shock. I've always been bread-girl. I was such a fussy eater as a kid that I would often find myself eating just the bread portions of a meal (rolls, tortillas, pizza crust) and turning my nose up at the other parts. I was that kid who often had a ball of white bread wadded up in her fist at the lunch table. I didn't just like bread, I liked squishy, white bread.

I also normally bake glutinous foods like a crazy person, especially when I'm stressed. There's an episode of Grey's Anatomy where Izzie, one of the main characters, has a breakdown. Her roommates know she's losing it because every inch of counter space is covered with muffins, and she's still making more. That's not far from how I usually act during finals week... There are brownies and cupcakes and cookies and breads on every available inch of kitchen space. Daryl finally made me promise to start giving the stuff away so we didn't turn into human blimps.

Anyway, when I visited Daryl in Nashville back in August, I decided to go gluten-free for a couple of weeks. The point in this was more practical than experimental - one of the friends he is living with has celiac, and gets really sick if she eats gluten. Since she and her husband are being incredibly kind and gracious in giving Daryl a place to crash for the year (hi, Ted and Heather!), the last thing I wanted to do was accidentally poison her with stray cookie crumbs. So I just avoided it entirely. It's amazing the amount of fresh fruits and veggies I found myself eating when cinnamon rolls were no longer an option...

And something crazy happened. I felt great. I've always had minor stomach troubles. Nothing truly terrible, but bad enough that I have always felt lethargic and crampy after eating. Enough to send me to a couple of doctors over the past three years, both of whom proclaimed it stress. I got a lot of fairly worthless advice, from "do yoga" to "eat more whole wheat" to "try to cut stress out of your life" to solve the digestive troubles. Um... okay... when I'm a full-time graduate student who needs to hold down a couple of part-time jobs to put food on the table, how exactly should I eliminate stress? Also, eating whole wheat made me feel terrible. So nyet to that.

But being a bit obtuse, I thought I felt better because I finally had time to rest for the first time in months, not because I had given up gluten for a time. My ordination exams were over, I was sleeping in most days, and I had little work to do for the first time in over a year. So when I got back to Jersey, I went back to my usual diet (bagels for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch, pizza for dinner, etc., etc., etc.). And again, I felt terrible. "Hmmm..." I thought.

So I went back to being totally gluten-free in early September, and I've avoided it since (except for a few meals at friends houses where I indulged... and then immediately regretted it). I'm going to get myself tested for celiac and other complications in the coming months. I'm praying I just have gluten sensitivity and not anything more serious.

In the meantime, I've discovered the fun of gluten-free cooking. There are loads of good products and recipes out there, and for those of you who are interested in giving it a try, I thought I'd post a recipe I've tried and liked each week on Thursday. Today's is a new one - the finished product is currently cooling on a wire rack in our tiny kitchen. It looks delicious, and I'm hopeful that it will be. If not, expect this post to disappear tomorrow...

For today, in honor of Thanksgiving, I give you: Pumpkin Pie with GF Crust

GF Crust:

• 1-1/2 cups Pamela's Baking & Pancake Mix (This stuff is pricey but great - it eliminates all the random types of flours and xantham gum you have to mix to get a normal-ish gluten-free flour mixture, and it can be used to make everything from pancakes to cornbread to brownies. Most bigger grocery stores have started to stock it, but you can also find it here.)
• 2 teaspoons sugar
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 
• 2 tablespoons oil
• 1/4 cup ice water

Yield: one, 9-inch pie crust

1. Combine the baking mix and sugar in a bowl.

2. Cut butter into flour mixture with two knives until butter is in very small pieces.

3. Add oil, then ice water, slowly until dough comes together, not sticky. You may not need all of the water.

4. Press dough into pan with fingers, the thinner the better. (Rolling it out is much too tricky, as it doesn't stick together like normal crust will.)

Pumpkin pie filling (naturally gluten-free!):

• 3/4 cup white sugar
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon*
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 2 eggs
• 1 (15 oz) can pumpkin
• 1 (12 oz) can evaporated milk

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.
2. Combine sugar, salt, cinnamon, ginger and cloves in small bowl. Beat eggs lightly in large bowl. Stir in pumpkin and sugar-spice mixture. Gradually stir in evaporated milk. Pour into pie shell.
3. Bake for 15 minutes. If you're using the crust above, cover the edges of the crust with tinfoil or it will burn.
   
4. Reduce temperature to 350 degrees F.; bake for 40 to 50 minutes or until knife inserted near center comes out clean. Cool on wire rack for 2 hours. Serve immediately or refrigerate. 

* You can also substitute 1 Tablespoon pumpkin pie spice for all of the spices in the pie filling (especially if you are a financially strapped student who doesn't want to buy several $6 jars of spices... ).

Yum. Pie. And no tummy aches, to boot!

 

On the Joys and Difficulties of a Long-Distance Marriage

Last year around this time Daryl was neck-deep in PhD applications. Some seminary friends of ours refer to difficult academic periods as when a diligent student's "face is turned toward Mordor."

That was definitely true for round one of applications (back in 2006). But this time, round two, was easier. Not easy, mind you, but easier. Daryl knew the ropes much better, he had some great connections with other PhD folk at our seminary, and he was admittedly a stronger scholar and thinker the second go-round. And so we sent them off. And waited. And while Daryl was technically the only one applying, I felt as though I was applying, too. After all - the fate, location, and job possibilities for our next 4-7 years of life were hanging in the balance. Where I would look for my first pastoring job depended on which program accepted him. And so we waited. And prayed. A lot.

Daryl ended up earning a great spot in two very well-respected programs, and we had a tough decision to make. I'll let him post about all of those factors someday, if he wants. But to make a long story short, he (and we) chose Vanderbilt University in Nashville. With my program unfinished in New Jersey, we made the additionally difficult decision to spend the year apart. He would begin his program and I would finish mine. This took some explaining.

But now we're three months in to the long-distance marriage, and despite the occasional raised eyebrows, we are managing quite well with a situation that's less than ideal. So for today's post, I'd like to share the three main things I've learned about being married to someone who is doing a PhD in a different state.

1. It stinks.

Daryl and I did the long-distance dating thing on a few occasions. One summer I worked in Carbondale, Colorado while he studied in Boston. For six months I lived in downtown Chicago while he lived out in Wheaton. Both of these were inconvenient and annoying, but not downright lousy. We traveled to see each other often, had memorable visits and vacations, and made the best of things.

A long-distance marriage, however, feels different. I'm not waiting to visit my boyfriend, someone of whom I am very fond. Now I'm waiting to visit my husband, the person who falls asleep with me at night, the one who knows me better than anyone else, the one who finishes my sentences and knows exactly how I like my eggs cooked. I believe now more than ever what Scripture says about a man leaving his father and mother and becoming united to his wife. We really do feel like a unit, not two separate people. And part of my unit is all the way over in middle America for 9/10ths of this year. It not only stinks, it aches. Boo.

To those who've asked if we drive back and forth, we could... if it wasn't for West Virginia. West Virginia adds a good 7 hours to what would be a 6-hour drive.

I've also found myself reverting to many of my bad habits of singleness. I keep odd hours, staying awake until 2am nearly every night. I am ridiculously disorganized with everything but the essentials (work papers, school papers, and plane tickets). I will actually go out and buy more cheap clothing to avoid doing laundry in our icky, flooded basement... I know, right? It's bad. The habits of discipline and diligence that Daryl naturally has (he eats vegetables, regularly! he exercises, regularly! he starts his papers weeks before they are due, regularly!) rub off on me when he's here, but when he's gone it's up to me, and I'm not always great at them.

2. It isn't quite as awful as I expected in many ways.

Yet, I am not in despair. I find myself much less lonely than I had anticipated. With work and school and other activities that fill my days, I don't mind coming home to a quiet house. In fact, I've begun to look forward to a few hours in the evening (or half a dozen, depending on if I do indeed stay up past 2 am...) to read, play my piano or guitar, or catch up on emails.

I've enjoyed the extra time I have to cultivate new and old friendships and to host family. For the first two weekends I was alone my parents and sister visited. I've been able to reach out to some new Princeton folks, when I probably wouldn't have had the time if Daryl was here. I've been able to volunteer a bit back at my CPE hospital, doing an overnight on-call and signing up for more. One of the random clichés I threw around back when I was single and trying to make myself feel better about being single was that single people have more time to love on other people and to serve the Lord. In a lot of ways, I'm discovering, this is actually true.

Also, Daryl is so happy with his program. It's hard for me to be grumpy about the geographical distance when I call him and he can't wait to share the new ideas he's come across and the conversations he's had and the books he's reading. And the decision been confirmed in a thousand ways that it was the right one. And doing a hard thing is always easier if you know that the hard thing is also the right thing.

3. It is much more awful than I expected in some ways.

What I really wasn't prepared for about this year was how difficult it is to go from a household of two to a household of one. All of a sudden weekly chores that once were once halved were all mine. The car (which I usually don't pay any attention to) needed its oil changed. The kitty litter needed refreshing. The closet door was broken. The trash needed to be taken out. I invited friends over for a party and didn't have the food ready when everyone arrived because I had forgotten how long it takes to prepare for a party alone! Where was my guacamole-making, bathroom-cleaning partner?

All of this was just minorly annoying and mostly manageable until last week. Last week, my beloved cat Eliot got sick. Not just sniffly-kitty sick, but death's-door sick. This is him in a healthier moment:

He suddenly went from eating like a horse to eating nothing. And drinking nothing. And not moving. And not using his litter box. And then he developed a really painful bump on his back leg. And he started turning yellow. So off to the vet we went.

Long story short, he was so sick he could have died. The vet's solution (after running very expensive tests and never figuring out exactly what was wrong) was to have me force-feed him and give him antibiotics. He's a hefty cat, so I asked why a week of malnutrition was such a big deal. Well, apparently when cats stop eating even for a couple of days, they can go into liver failure. Which (as I learned during CPE this summer) is pretty ugly and almost always fatal. The early sign of liver failure in cats? They turn yellow. Yikes.

So, according to the vet, if I force-fed him enough, he would live. If I didn't, he would die. No pressure, right? I launched into nurse mode.

Four to five times a day I would hold Eliot down and feed him watered-down prescription food through a feeding syringe. He hated this. It was like splatter painting. There was food everywhere. I eventually designated some old clothes as my "feeding clothes" so that I wouldn't have to do laundry every two days. I tried to tempt him with every cat-related snack I could think of or cook up: yogurt, wet food, dry food, chicken, salmon, meat-flavored baby food, scrambled eggs, fish sticks, you name it. No dice. He wouldn't sit anywhere but on my bed, and then he started randomly peeing all over it. The force-feedings continued. This went on and on and on.

At 4:45am on Wednesday, I was at the end of my rope. I could hardly get any food in Eliot, and he was going downhill. I was afraid to go to sleep and wake up to a dead cat. I had just worked and gone to school for a 12-hour day while running home to do cat feedings. I was exhausted. So I did something I have a really, really, really hard time doing. I asked for help.

Daryl got a desperate email around 5am saying, in essence, "Please come home. I need you." He had a paper due and three more classes to attend before Thanksgiving break. I assumed I'd see him by Friday or Saturday at the earliest, but even that would be able to keep me going. I finally fell asleep at 5:30am for a couple of fitful hours. When I woke up, I checked my email.

"I'm sorry it's been so hard," said a 6am email from Daryl. "I'll come today."

And this is why our long-distance marriage is working. Not because a PhD program trumps everything. Not because we can just barrel through this year, ignoring its difficulty. Not because we both value our schooling above each other. But because I married a man who loves me enough to drop everything and get on a plane to help me force-feed a sick cat because he knows how important that silly cat is to me.

So the distance is difficult. And not our first choice. But we're making it work, because we have to, because the Lord is gracious, and because it's worth it. And Eliot even miraculously pulled through, and is now happily eating everything in sight and acting like nothing happened. And my graduation is coming, immediately after which I will once again move in with my husband. And the long-distance portion of our lives will end. And I can't wait.

The Best TV Show of All Time

I like good TV. This is not something I'm entirely proud to admit (according to Stuff White People Like not having a TV is a point of pride for most middle-class, highly-educated white folks), but there it is. Television shouldn't be a crutch, a babysitter, or an excuse for not really living life, but it has its place in modern life and it isn't going away anytime soon, so we might as well all admit that we like something about it.

Part of my love of a good TV show is being without Daryl for the year. The house is quiet and still, and I've found myself studying with the TV on sometimes because it's just so darned silent in here. Another part of it is my literature background and love of a good story. When I don't have time to read for fun (and who does in grad. school, really?), an hour long drama can fill that place in my heart, albeit only partially.

I have some current favorites (Lost, Survivor, The Office), some past favorites (Arrested Development, The Cosby Show), and some guilty favorites (What Not to Wear), but one surpasses them all. This is the only TV show that I own, in its entirety, on DVD. It's the only one I'll occasionally leave on in the background when I'm studying because it feels like I know these characters so well they may really exist somewhere in D.C. What show, you ask?

The West Wing.

The West Wing's seven seasons aired from 1999-2006, and I didn't even discover it until some of my husband's roommates (hi, Joel and Evan!) became completely sucked in by it in 2005. Nerds as they were, they even developed their own riffed title: The Occidental Flying Appendage. Yup, those are my peeps.

Anyway, the West Wing is smart, witty, funny, clever, and creative. It helped that I discovered it so late, so we ended up renting it from the Wheaton library (how I miss you, Wheaton library!) and buying seasons online to  catch up. It's a good show to watch sans commercials, and it's great to watch two or more in a row on a snowy afternoon when I'm grading speeches or quizzes. The characters are all quirky, realistic, and well-developed. Its politics are generally pretty good, though obviously quite far from reality as we know it. A friend of mine says that the West Wing's government is "the one we think we deserve." It's about a democratic president and White House, but it shows both sides of issues fairly often. There are some awful Republican straw men, but there are also some complex and intelligent ones.

I think I must love the West Wing as much as I do in part because I want to be one of the characters: The press secretary CJ Cregg.

 

Played by Allison Janney (who I love - she's great in Juno, too), she's spunky, brilliant, and insightful. She also wears business suits but doesn't look frumpy. I have yet to master this. A wardrobe staff would probably help this... In my best moments, I think I show a little flash of CJ. Doesn't this even look like there's a possible sermon in progress here? She's in a suit, in front of a lecturn, with a distinctly Presbyterian-esque window to her right. This is what I'm going for. Mostly, though, I'm Donna, the secretary.

 

Yeah... working on that one. It's good for a college student, or a graduate student, or even a starting-out adjunct professor, not so much for an actual pastor who needs to be a bit more professional and a bit less...Donna. I mean, would you take ministerial advice from her?

Daryl is a mix of these three:

Grumpy but brilliant Toby...

 

Suave and brilliant (albeit slightly "pretty-boy") Sam...

 

And ridiculous-but-wonderful Josh, the Deputy Chief of Staff who just defies all adjectives. Except maybe punchy. And hilarious.

Anyway, for those of you who haven't yet been converted to the cult of the West Wing (and perhaps have 200 or so free hours to kill, are having major surgery and/or a baby in the upcoming months,  or need something to get you through the winter - if so, this is for you!), I thought I'd list the top 10 West Wing episodes of all time. If you want to get a taste and see if you'll like the show, the starred ones are the ones I'd try first. Granted, they will spoil some storylines, so if you're thinking of watching the show all the way through, stop reading now and just go out and get some WW for yourself. They go for $15-17 per season at Costco! Can't beat that.

Anyway, here they are, in descending order of my love for them:

10. "Liftoff" (Season 6, episode 4)

CJ gets a huge promotion and isn't sure how to handle it. This episode has some great gags (classic West Wing) as well as some interesting political questions. It's a transition episode, but it's handled quite well. And I just love CJ and I love watching how she handles herself when she's upset or worried. These are things I want to learn, even if she's just an actor.

"Liftoff" also has some fascinating scenes with Josh - how do you handle the promotion of someone over you when it should have been you?

* 9. "The U.S. Poet Laureate" (Season 3, episode 16)

The interplay between art, literature, and government here is fascinating. It also made me think about who I want to meet in my lifetime, and what type of obligation artists have to work for change.

 

8. "Commencement" (Season 4, episode 22)

The President's daughter is graduating, which sets in motion what will eventually be the finale of Season 4. Lots of action, excitement, and great father-daughter dynamics. I've always thought that if my dad were president, and I was going out on a date, the instructions Jed Bartlett gives to his daughter's secret service captain would be exactly what my dad would say:

President Bartlett: "...if something comes up and you're faced with the choice of killing the boyfriend or not killing the boyfriend, kill the boyfriend."

 

Also, Taye Diggs as the secret service captain. Nice.

7. "King Corn" (Season 6, episode 13)

During the start of the primary season, all presidential candidates travel to Iowa to speak at the Corn Grower's Association. The decision before them is simple: Do they praise ethanol and pledge to use it, even though it will drive up food prices? Or do they tell the truth about ethanol and risk coming in last in the Iowa caucuses? The political dilemma is explained clearly, and the choices the candidates choose to make are interesting as well.

* 6. "Privateers" (Season 4, episode 18)

This episode has the best-delivered line of any West Wing episode. Ever. And it isn't delivered by any of the main characters. And it gives CJ a fit of the giggles, which cracks me up every time.

* 5. "The Crackpots and These Women" (Season 1, episode 5)

This episode features the recurring theme of the "Big Block of Cheese Day" where all kooky fringe organizations that want 10 minutes at the White House are granted their due. I doubt this actually exists, but it's a great idea and definitely entertaining. It also offers Leo the chance for a speech, and John Spencer is worth watching every minute.

4. "Tomorrow" (Season 7, episode 22)

The West Wing finale. Sad, but good closure. It manages to sum up the show without feeling trite or rushed. It also made me wish it had been renewed for seven more seasons. I'd sure watch.

* 3. "Noel" (Season 2, episode 10)

This is Daryl's all-time favorite episode. It's Christmas in the White House (which is really beautiful), and dour Toby drags some professional bands in because he has been accused of "not being in the proper Christmas spirit." Josh deals with the stress of prior a violent encounter and struggles both to admit how much the tragedy affected him and to heal. The best interchange? Josh: "Am I always going to hear the sirens?" Counselor: "No." Josh: "Why not?" Counselor: "Because we get better."

If that doesn't make you want to watch this episode right now, what if I told you it ended with Yo-Yo Ma playing a solo? Because it does.

 

* 2. "The Supremes" (Season 5, episode 17)

Glenn Close plays a potential Supreme Court nominee. This episode shows several sides of the affirmative action debate, and the merit in free debate of ideas. It is one of the most idealistic of all WW episodes (there's no way the real government works anything like this), yet it's brilliantly written and acted.

1. "Two Cathedrals" (Season 2, episode 22)

The best WW episode of all time. I won't even spoil it with a description. It's incredible, but you have to watch all of Season 2 (in order) first to earn it.

All West Wing photos borrowed from here, which is a great West Wing resource for those of you who already love it.

So... I'm back!

This blog has lain dormant for far too long. I miss keeping it, and I miss keeping up with all of you!

So... in honor of another autumn, my final year of seminary, and the fact that I still live quite far from most of my dear friends and family, I'm back. Autumn All Year will have regular posts, updates, sermons, ideas, lists, links, and theological and literary musings once again.

Welcome back, friends!

cbe