Autumn All Year

2010: A Summary

2010-12-31T11:36:00.000-05:00

What a year... Whew... I'm happily exhausted just thinking about it. Let's review, shall we?

January
Daryl flies back to Nashville to resume coursework. This marks our 5th month of living apart since September. Boo.

I fly back to New Jersey to start my final semester of classes at Princeton Seminary.

I start rehearsals for "A Caucasian Chalk Circle," the spring seminary play where I am cast as (yay!) Grusha, the resourceful peasant mother. One of my best friends is cast as Natella, the evil villainess, and we enjoy verbal sparring on our rides to and from practice.

February
I watch my friend Jinelle skate to Olympic silver with the U.S. Women's Hockey Team. Since the seminary doesn't get the channel, we watch from a nearby Mexican restaurant...

Daryl and I celebrate Valentine's Day apart by cooking the same meal and having a Skype dinner date. Not the real in-person thing, but still pretty good.

After noticing that there are few church jobs in the Nashville area, I apply to the Nashville CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) partnership as a chaplain. I anxiously await word back.

March
We welcomed our new niece, Sophia Joy, into the family! She was, and still remains, the cutest baby EVER. (Besides our other niece, Aleah, of course!)

I have my final review at the Presbytery of Chicago where they officially certify me as ready for ordination in the PC(USA)!

Daryl and I travel (together!) to California for spring break where we visit his family and lots of friends. We also eat at In n' Out Burger about nine times. In one week. Yum.

I hear back that the Nashville CPE partnership would like to interview me. I interview, and a couple of weeks later in...

April
...I hear back that I've been accepted as a chaplain resident at Alive Hospice in Nashville. Daryl and I both breathe a sigh of vocational and financial relief.

I performed in "A Caucasian Chalk Circle" at the seminary. After performance #1 I lost my voice for several anxious hours. Lots of tea with lemon (prescribed by the director), lots of prayer (my addition), and it came back by showtime the following night. Phew.

May
Daryl and I slogged through finals and were rewarded at the end... with one another. The long-distance marriage was over! Hooray!

My parents treated us to a cruise to Mexico. All the gluten free food I could eat, delicious sun, and lots of napping. It was A-MAZ-ING.

We returned to Princeton for my graduation! All done, seminary!

We packed up all of our belongings, and with the help of my parents, loaded them into a storage POD that was sent to await our arrival in Nashville.

June
We headed north to Wisconsin to spend much of the summer with my family resting, reading, and relaxing. A wonderful reward after nine months living apart from one another, three years of seminary, three part-time jobs, and a whole lot else...

July
We trekked to Nashville to pick out a new home and found the townhouse of our dreams. Less than two miles from Vanderbilt for Daryl, less than two miles from the hospital where I'd be working, and within our price range. We signed the lease the very next day.

August
We travel to Michigan for a week-long family reunion with my dad's side of the family. There are games. There is food. It is awesome.

We move in to our new home in Nashville, after waving goodbye to our wonderful family in Wisconsin. After hauling in box after box in 105 degree heat, we both agree: this is the LAST move we are ever doing ourselves. Next time (which we think will be years and years down the road), we're hiring movers.

I begin work at Alive Hospice on my birthday, August 30th. Lots of orientation, lots of preparation, lots of great people.

September
Daryl begins his second and final year of coursework at Vanderbilt.

We travel to Asheville, NC with some dear friends to visit Posana's Cafe, an all-gluten free restaurant. It is worth every mile.

We head back to Wisconsin to watch two other dear friends tie the knot in an outdoor ceremony on a beautiful lake. Then we dance all night.

Daryl travels to Oxford to deliver a paper at a conference. He visits all of our old haunts, even eating one of "Ben's Cookies" for me at the covered market.

I receive a semi-cryptic email from a church in Wisconsin asking me if I'd be willing to move to Wisconsin... I respond in the affirmative... They interview me over Skype and we immediately hit it off.

October
The church flies me up for a weekend interview. It goes wonderfully, and at the end of the weekend they extend the call to me! Daryl and I take a week to pray about it and feel nothing but confirmation. I call them back with the news - it's official (though not yet Facebook-public, as I still need to be examined by the Presbytery)!

Daryl's dad and step-mom visit, and we hit up the Frist Museum and the best Predator's game of the year.

My mom and dad visit and we visit an outdoor Chihuly exhibit and explore Nashville and Dad teaches me to make the best gluten free cookies ever.

November
I meet with the PC(USA)'s Company of New Pastors at their conference in Nashville. We spend hours talking and learning about prayer and how to incorporate Scripture into worship in different ways.

We eat the world's best Thanksgiving dinner with some dear (and gluten free!) friends in Nashville. I can still taste that cornbread stuffing.

Friends from Michigan come to visit us and we play board games for hours and hours.

I finish my final day of CPE and say goodbye to some wonderful patients, staff, and fellow chaplains.

Daryl surprises me with tickets to a Ben Folds concert after my last day of work. I sit, enraptured, listening to one of my favorites perform.

I fly up to the Wisconsin for the congregational vote and Presbytery examination. Both go well and now it is officially official - in January I will start my tenure as pastor of 1st Presbyterian!

December
Daryl finishes his coursework after a grueling two weeks of final exams. Cough drops, coffee, and meals I cook and set in front of him get him through.

Back to Eagle River, Wisconsin for a white Christmas at home with my family. Restful, fun, and full of delicious food.

Down to Nashville to pack up a few suitcases and await the arrival of movers who will take all of our worldly goods north to Wisconsin where we will move into the church's historic and very beautiful manse (parsonage).

Which brings us to New Year's Eve, where we'll say goodbye to Nashville and ring in the new year with some dear friends and a pile of gluten free goodies.

Whew... What a 2010! What will 2011 bring? I can hardly wait to find out... New Year's plans coming soon!

My Sister, the Photographer

2010-12-29T10:19:00.001-05:00

My little sister is ridiculously talented. She makes wedding cakes that look like they're straight out of TLC's Cake Boss (see an example here). She gave us a framed abstract block print for Christmas that is so gorgeous I cannot wait to hang it in my office ("Is that Mondrian?" "No, it's an authentic Caroline!"). And the girl takes amazing photos.

As part of our Christmas present she gave Daryl and I a photo shoot and then touched up the pictures, adding color, changing the effects, and just generally making us look way better than we do in real life. Knowing that we'll be apart (again! baahhh....) for the next several months, she wanted each of us to have a picture to put on our desks.

The really crazy thing? This photo shoot took maybe twenty minutes. We bundled up, drove half a mile from my parents' house to a frozen lake, and she shot away. The result? Awesomeness. I wish I had one iota of her artistic skill, but I'm happy to just have her in the family. What a Christmas present!

She's one January-term course away from being a college grad, so if you need some photos, you know who to call... I'm sure I can get you a discount. ;)

Update

2010-12-28T18:20:00.000-05:00

It has been too long.

I'm sorry, friends. This past month has been an absolute whirlwind, and there were things I couldn't post about on here until they were sure things, which now they are.

I'll write more in depth later, and post some great photos, but for now, the summary is this:

I've accepted a call as a Presbyterian minister at a church in southern Wisconsin! I start January 9th, and my ordination service will be January 30th.

Daryl and I will be moving our belongings from Nashville next week, and he will return here to finish his coursework for the final semester of his PhD. He'll join me up north in May.

Wonderful blessings. I'm moving back to Wisconsin, my home state, to a beautiful, vibrant church. I'll be close to family once again. I'll live in a landscape that feeds my soul, full of trees and prairies and snow and summer grasses. I'll have the chance to pursue the vocation I've been training for over the past several years, and the one I've felt called to since college. I'll be close to dozens of friends and family in Illinois, Minnesota, Michigan, Iowa, and Wisconsin.

All changes come with a tinge of sadness too, of course. This means more time away from Daryl. It meant I had to end my CPE program early. It means leaving Nashville--a city I love--and my Nashville friends who have become like family.

More to come about the job, Christmas, the death-flu that my whole family came down with over the holidays (eeesh...), our favorite new holiday board game, the best book I've read in quite awhile, and just general Christmas joy.

I'm back. Updates to come.

The Impressionists

2010-11-16T12:41:00.001-05:00

My mom loves the impressionists. We grew up with prints of Degas and Monet on our walls. She is partial to ballerinas and haystacks.

I've never really liked the impressionists. I have a pretty eclectic taste in art, but the impressionists have never been high on my list. They're too sunny. Too full of flowers and haystacks (sorry, Mom). Too blurry and pastel. I like photographs, bright colors, abstract art, modern art, and sculpture. I love paintings with a Christian story, provided they're not Thomas Kinkade. I will drive miles out of my way to see a Rembrandt, Chagall, El Greco, or Mondrian.

Anyway, this weekend Daryl's dad and step-mom were in town, and they treated us to a variety of wonderful activities. On our Saturdays alone in town (all three of them since August...) we tend to do exactly nothing. We're exhausted. Daryl watches a little college football. I bake some bread for the week ahead. We putter around the house, do some laundry, harass the cats.

When people are in town we do things. This is a good thing for us. We get out and about, we explore Nashville, we find new things and are inspired by old ones. This Saturday Tad and Deborah took us to see the impressionist exhibit at the Frist Museum.

I was excited to go. I like museums, even if I don't love impressionist art. At least, I didn't love it. This exhibit taught me to fall in love, and I wanted to share some of the awesomeness with you.

Edgar Degas:

It was that ballerina in the bottom-right corner that I really fell in love with. She is exhausted. But she isn't giving up. The shoes are still on.

Gustave Dore:

The riddle of war - the woman of France questioning the Sphinx about the French Revolution with an epic landscape in the background. Independence Day has nothing on this disaster. Daryl loved this one, too, though we both agreed it's a little bit dark and death-y to put on the wall...

Edouard Manet:

Paul Cezanne:

Photos borrowed from: www2.bc.edu, http://media-2.web.britannica.com/eb-media/26/8926-004-CA37FB0D.jpg, http://christophervolpe.blogspot.com/, http://www.rebeccanemser.com/wp-content/uploads/1991/07/BERTHE-MORISTON-1872-BY-Manet.jpg, http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/manet/fifre/manet.fifre-2.jpg, http://madamepickwickartblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/Cezanne1.jpg. Also, if you're in Nashville, you should really go see these in person. The Internet hardly does them any justice. Fo' real.

Sunday Poems - W.H. Auden

2010-11-16T11:05:00.000-05:00

No, it's not Sunday. Yes, life is a little bit crazy right now with on-call shifts, final CPE evaluations to write, and a whole bunch of other good but busy-making stuff. So here's a poem. Because it is dear to my heart, and so are you.

"As I Walked Out One Evening"

As I walked out one evening,
    Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
    Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
    I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
    "Love has no ending.

"I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
    Till China and Afica meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
    And the salmon sing in the street.

"I'll love you till the ocean
    Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
    Like geese about the sky.

"The years shall run like rabbits,
    For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
    And the first love of the world."

But all the clocks in the city
    Began to whirr and chime:
"O let not Time deceive you
    You cannot conquer Time.

"In the burrows of the Nightmare
    Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
    And coughs when you would kiss.

"In headaches and in worry
    Vaguely life leaks away,
And time will have his fancy
    To-morrow or to-day.

"Into many a green valley
    Drifts the appalling snow
Time breaks the threaded dances
    And the diver's brilliant bow.

"O plunge your hands in water
    Plunge them up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
    And wonder what you've missed."

"The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
    The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
    A lane to the land of the dead.

"Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
    And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer
    And Jill goes down on her back."

"O look, look in the mirror,
    O look in your distress;
Life remains a blessing
    Although you cannot bless."

"O stand, stand at the window
    As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbor
    With your crooked heart."

It was late, late in the evening
    The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
    And the deep river ran on.

--W.H. Auden

Ten on Tuesday: Hospice Edition

2010-11-09T13:34:00.000-05:00

Changes are afoot in my life, but for the next few weeks, I'm still working as a hospice chaplain. It's important work, work I both believe in and enjoy. It's also exhausting work. It's sad watching people's bodies shut down, their families grieve. Death isn't a pretty thing.

I've had to learn what helps me pick myself back up after a difficult day. This isn't just a list of happy things, it's a list of ten things that help me process, grieve, and let go of patients I've lost, families I've cried with, and pain I've witnessed. It all has to go somewhere, and it's best if that somewhere isn't permanently on my shoulders.

I think knowing these things about myself will bode well for a life of ministry, and using them for a "Ten on Tuesday" gives me the opportunity to ask: what picks you up after a difficult day? Share!

10. Phone calls with friends.
My good friend Katie called me during my lunch break a couple of weeks ago. "Courtney!" she chirped in that exceedingly extroverted way she has. "I need to talk to you!" What freedom to be able to call a friend mid-day, after work, on the weekend, to say, "Gosh, this was hard for me. What should I do? Will you pray for me?"

9. Puzzles.
I process while doing puzzles. It gives me a way to decompress that isn't just plopping myself in front of House. Though, admittedly, sometimes I do puzzles while plopped in front of House. Doing a puzzle gives me that think-but-not-think state of mind where I can say goodbye to a difficult day while beginning to transition to the rest of life.

(This is the one I'm working on now. I am loving it.)

8. Good, good music.
I have the most utterly absurd CD in my car right now. It contains songs by the most random assortment of artists known to humanity. Journey, James Blunt, Black Eyed Peas, Jeff Buckley, Dar Williams... it's pretty ridiculous. But somehow, after I've witnessed a patient's death or cried with a patient's loved one, there always seems to be the perfect song for the moment. Sometimes it's "Hallelujah." Sometimes it's "Don't Stop Believin'." Sometimes it's "It's Gonna Be a Good Night." Some days I'm singing along at the top of my lungs with the windows down in traffic to "Viva Las Vegas." I don't know why, but it really helps.

7. Baking.
When the world seems crazy, it gives me incredible comfort to mix up some eggs, sugar, flour (gluten-free, of course!), butter, and cinnamon, roll it out, and come up with cinnamon rolls. It's like, "Glory be, at least something in this world has gone right today."

6. Surprises.
I had a hard weekend. I finally had enough time and space to process through the past couple of weeks which have been crazy. Just plain crazy. Chaplaincy has easy weeks and hard ones, and these past have been really tough. Daryl and I sat in a parking lot on our way to a date and I just cried. I cried because of patients I've loved who have died. I cried for the grief of their families who now have to go on living without them. I cried over the dysfunction of families who try to love each other and just can't sometimes. I cried because it's just plain hard to listen to people's stories all day every day when those stories involve cancer and Alzheimer's and strokes and heart attacks and suffering of every shape and kind.

Daryl listened patiently, as he is incredibly amazing at doing. He prayed with me. He held my hand. Then, after I'd dried my tears and said, "Okay, I think I'm good now," he asked if he could tell me a secret.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Well..." he said quietly. "You mentioned that you wanted to go see Ben Folds with the Nashville Symphony..." (I had mentioned this once, briefly, and completely forgotten to follow up and look for tickets. When I thought to look, they were already sold out.)

I was shocked. I wasn't even sure he was listening when I mentioned it weeks earlier. I definitely wasn't sure we had the money to spend.

What a sweet surprise.

5. Organizing.
This is like baking. When the world seems like it's in shambles (read: lots of people are dying of lots of terrible things), I come home and organize a cabinet. I fold laundry. I rearrange some furniture. Then I stand back and say, "Ah. That's better." It helps.

4. Prayer.
Anne Lamott says that her two most often-used prayers are "Help me help me help me" and Thank you thank you thank you." I find myself praying these more often than I imagined before hospice. Pulling up to a patient's house: "Help me." Leaving after a visit: "Thank you." Sitting with a dying patient: "Help me." Witnessing the power of God in the life of a family: "Thank you."

There are many other prayers, but often this one rings in my mind.

3. More prayer.
Then there are days where "Help me" and "Thank you" don't seem to cut it. A friend of mine said recently that he finds himself praying certain lines from the Lord's prayer over and over again. Worried about money? "Give us today our daily bread." Struck by the tragedies of this world? "Deliver us from evil." Jesus gave us this prayer for a reason: it really does cover just about anything we might encounter in this crazy world. Forgive us. Thy kingdom come.

In the face of death and disaster within families' lives, often I can only reach for these words from Jesus. My own words fail me, and I am so grateful for his on my behalf.

2. Daryl.
Daryl is a source of deep and abiding joy for me. No matter what the day holds, at the end of the day, there he is.

1. Jesus.
Would this be a good list if it didn't end this way? Well, yes, but not very truthful to what really helps me (or better yet: who).

In hospice, sometimes the only thing I know is true is that Jesus is with me. We serve a God who suffered and died on our behalf, a God who is no stranger to suffering, brokenness, disease, and even death. When I sit with a suffering patient and feel like I can't do it a moment longer because their pain is too much, too hard, too excruciating, I remember that I am not alone in that room, in that house, in that hospital. I go with Jesus. Jesus goes with me. And Jesus loves that patient more than I ever could.

This is what helps me this Tuesday.

What helps you?

Surprises

2010-11-07T22:05:00.000-05:00

I love surprises.

No, that's not right.

I love, love, love, love, LOVE surprises. Yup. That about covers it.

I had a hard day at hospice last week. I came home exhausted and discouraged. Then I checked the mailbox. Not one, but TWO unexpected surprises!

A note from my dear, dear, dear friend Inga, along with a CD. On that CD were three songs from one of my favorite artists--Jake Armerding--who has a new album out that I hadn't even heard about. It was like musical manna from heaven.

A small package from my grandmother who lives in Michigan, containing two really good make-up brushes! The kind I would never, ever splurge on for myself! She had read my previous blog post and put them in the mail as a gesture of love.

After such a crummy, difficult day, I found myself sitting at the dining room table with these two beautiful gifts from two people I love so much, tearing up a little. "You knew I needed this today, didn't you, God?" I asked.

While I love surprises, I hate them, too. I love gifts, letters, concert tickets (thank you, Daryl!!!), unexpected trips. But I hate the unexpected turns life sometimes takes. As a child I once threw a screaming fit outside my preschool when Miss Cindy, my teacher, was absent. There was a substitute teacher in there and I was bound and determined not to have any part of that. Dad used to say that I'm not "good at hitting the curve ball." He's a sports metaphor kind of guy.

My life has been full of surprises lately, both the kind I love and the kind I hate.

I am leaving Nashville. I have moved nine times in ten years, and this will be my tenth move.

I am moving somewhere closer to home, and to do something new and exciting and joyful and challenging.

That's all I can say for now, but more news will be forthcoming.

I love the new possibilities of what is to come, but I hate that I'm leaving Nashville. I hate that this new turn of events means I'll be living apart from Daryl for a few months (again... I know...). I hate that I have to move again.

But I love the excitement of a life spent following Jesus. I love that I'll soon be doing what I feel called and gifted to do. I love that my life will soon be marked by some real stability and that Daryl and I will have the chance to put down some roots.

I'm headed north.

More soon...

Beauty Tips for... Me

2010-10-24T20:46:00.001-04:00

Beauty Tips for Ministers became one of my favorite blogs after my friend and fellow chaplain Marie pointed it out to me over a year ago. It helps me answer many of questions I have because, prior to seminary, I've had very few female role models in ministry, and really none that were in their 20s or 30s.

It's amazing the amount of questions about physical appearance that come up as I think about myself in ministry.

What type of jewelry is appropriate? When do fun accessories cross over into the realm of distraction?

What can I do with my hair on a bad hair day? Ponytail? Updo? Cute hat? Scarf?

What says, "Young professional pastor" and not "Frumpy weird pastor," "Creepy spiritual person," or "Waaayyy too trendy to be a pastor"?

How do I tread the line between approachable and professional? I sat across from a friend over coffee awhile back and saw that she had a gorgeous French manicure and perfectly applied eye makeup. My first thought was, "Wow, I feel disheveled and unpolished. I should definitely get a manicure." My second thought was, "No, I should not, because I don't want the people to whom I'm ministering to feel like I'm feeling right now."

It's a tough call, and audience plays a big part. When I sit in people's living rooms and pray beside the bedside of their dying family members, I want to communicate that I'm a professional, but also that I'm a safe person. A person who doesn't take notice of dust on the mantle, dirty dishes in the sink, or people in their pajamas because it's just been an awful day for them.

This is all on my mind because I bought *gasp* some new makeup today. I spent almost $30. It almost killed me. $30?!? On MAKEUP?!?!? Couldn't I have used that money to do something much better, like feed the poor/care for the homeless/buy Daryl some new slippers so his feet aren't so darned cold in the morning when he gets up to make me a breakfast smoothie?

Sigh. This is how my mind works.

Yet, as dear PeaceBang (as she calls herself) reminds those of us in ministry: Appearance isn't everything. Your heart and soul are what matter. But you should still look appropriate for your age and your job. Clothing and makeup and skin care and hairstyle matter. Not as much as the inside, but they are necessary to help you present a professional appearance.

When you're officiating a funeral, standing by a dying patient's bedside, celebrating a wedding, or preaching a sermon, you want to project an image that says, in essence, "I love Jesus, and I'm here to be the minister." Loving, professional, polished, human. What a balance! I'm certainly still learning.

These are the products that graced my Target shopping basket today:

Rimmel's Kohl eyeliner pencil in "Jungle Green."

Maybelline's Volum' Express mascara. I'm super excited to try this, as I usually go for the boring standard mascara. Also, this version is waterproof, which I desperately need. I tear up probably once a day with my hospice patients and families, and I don't want to continue fearing the dreaded "Tammy Faye Baker" moment...

L'Oreal's eyeshadow in Desert Sunrise. It has numbers, for folks like me who are a bit makeup challenged... I think my youngest sister got all the artistic makeup genes. I fall into a rut all too easily. I usually don't gravitate towards browns, but I like how subdued and polished the colors are, without being too juvenile. Also, I bought jungle green eyeliner... so clearly I know how to have some fun.

Finding lipstick that is gluten-free is tricky. I've worn Clinique for years, but they can't give a definitive statement on whether their products are gluten-free. This has forced me to do the dreaded trial-and-error with some Clinique products I'd already purchased. I love their lipsticks, but last time I put one on the tummy gurglings began. Boo. Enter Burt's Bees, a company that does disclose gluten. Since nude lips are in, I purchased their lip shimmer in Peony. More glossy than lipstick-y. Totally my style.

I suffer from the dreaded shiny-face. My skin hasn't yet heard that I'm no longer a teenager, so I get shiiiiiiny with lovely afternoon oil by around 1pm. Yuck. Enter: blotting sheets. Cheap, simple, and they soak up oil without smudging makeup. Hooray, hooray.

And my impulse purchase... Gunmetal gray nail polish, which went straight onto both my fingers and toes. It looks rad. Does it look appropriate for chaplaincy? I'm not sure. I may take it off my fingernails before tomorrow morning. Or I may dress super-professionally (hellloooo, blazer and heels!) and just let my nails be a spark of excitement. I wouldn't wear this in the pulpit, but chaplaincy is a bit more informal. We shall see...

What are your favorite products for looking polished, in life or in ministry? Does anyone know of a good matte powder that helps eliminate shine? I usually use Bare Minerals, but I haven't been too happy with it lately. Perhaps I just need a new applicator brush... But that would mean $15 more dollars. And that's certainly not in the cards for me in the near future. A girl can only go so far.

Gather 'Round, for I Have News!

2010-10-23T15:38:00.001-04:00

Whatcha Readin'?

2010-10-18T20:59:00.000-04:00

Daryl knows when I'm healthy and happy because I'll have two or three novels going at one time. One will be at the head of our bed, another in the back of the car for waits at the DMV or the dentist's office. A third will be sitting on the coffee table, or in the dining room where I eat my breakfast.

I devour books. Love them. Live off of them. Nom. Nom. Nom.

Sadly, right now I find myself in a bit of a novel dry spell. I'm just not that inspired by anything new I've seen out there (Jonathan Franzen and I are not good author-reader buddies, for one), and I have not yet hunted down our local library to check out what they have in store.

I've just started Jeanette Walls' Half Broke Horses, which is beginning to be wonderful, but I want more. I am the Cookie Book Monster.

So I'm asking you: what's a good book you've read lately? Why did you like it?

Thanks to: http://scientopia.org/blogs/childsplay/2010/08/08/blind-item-cookie-monster/ for the Cookie Monster pic!

Achoo.

2010-10-17T10:08:00.001-04:00

So it turns out I'm allergic to Nashville.

After dragging through work all week up until Thursday, feeling like I was carrying a 50-pound backpack full of sand (thanks, Biggest Loser, for that image), I finally gave in and went to the doctor. It's always a tough call when to stay home sick as a health-care worker. Granted, I'm a chaplain, so I'm not changing bandages or administering medication. Yet I do spend my days in close quarters with people who are very, very ill, and I'm supposed to stay home when I'm sick to avoid spreading germs to those with suppressed immune systems. But how sick is sick?

Health care workers are historically terrible at gauging this. When I worked at a hospital in New Jersey I actually overheard this conversation at the hospital library:

Nurse 1: Yeah, so I'm supposed to stay home today until the test results are back.
Nurse 2: Really? They're being that dumb?
Nurse 1: Yeah, they think I probably have a mild case of the swine flu.
Me: (quickly standing up and running out of library)

So my problem always is: what constitutes sick? The sniffles? I get these every few days. The flu? I get this probably once a year, but since I'm contagious the day before, should I stay home for sniffles, just in case?

Add to all of this the fact that at my place of work sick days = vacation days. That's right, for every day I'm out sick, I subtract one vacation day. This is the WORST plan ever for health care workers, who are bad at staying home even when they're SUPER sick. This policy definitely contributes to sick doctors/nurses/techs coming in declaring themselves "not that sick." And come on, if going into work with the sniffles means we can still take Christmas off to be with our families, most of us will probably do this, right? How sick is sick?

By Thursday evening, I decided I needed to get checked out. I wasn't dying. I didn't have the flu. But I certainly felt crummy. Sore throat, plugged sinuses, general malaise. My energy level was at about 24%. Walking from the office to my car felt like a mile and a half. Blech.

So I stayed home, went to bed at 8pm, and slept until 10am the next morning. Then I went in to get checked out.

The verdict, according to a very kind Nashville doctor?

I'm very allergic to Nashville.

Not uncommon, from what he said. It usually takes people a few weeks of living here before their bodies get really angry at all of the pollen/pollutants/tree offal/etc. I didn't think it was allergies because my eyes weren't itchy and my nose wasn't running. According to the doctor, my "ears were full of fluid that is draining down [my] throat." EW.

So now, doped up on antihistamines, with cough drops and nasal spray in tow, I'm doing a bit better. And the good news is that I was never in danger of getting anyone else sick, because for as miserable as an allergy attack is, at least I get to keep it to myself.

Ah, Nashville. Why so allergen-laden?

Wedding Bells and Belles

2010-09-21T18:00:00.000-04:00

My good friend Tonia got married this weekend.

You can check out her awesome blog on greenin' up your life here.

She was pretty much my third sister growing up, so both of my sisters and I got to be in her wedding! It was so fun to be bridesmaids together, though we couldn't help continually cracking this joke:

"Oh my gosh! I can't believe we showed up in the same dress! How embarrassing!"

And then laughing like ninnies.

It was an amazing, beautiful wedding, and one we'll never forget. Here are some of the photos from the big shindig:

My awesome cake-making sister Caroline made them a Packers vs. Vikings cake. Tonia (the Packers fan) fed Mike a Packers piece and Mike (the Vikings fan) fed Tonia a Vikings piece. That's true love, that is.

Almost all of the decorations were handmade, green, and gorgeous.

Aleah was adorable and hilarious, as usual...

We danced and danced, but stopped long enough for a few photos. We don't look this good that often!

I hear that this is called "photo diving." I call it super fun!

Thanks for the party, Tonia and Mike! Many, many, many blessings on your marriage as you begin this wonderful journey together.

To Make You Laugh

2010-09-14T17:43:00.000-04:00

I discovered this hilarious website a few days ago, and haven't been able to get enough:

Not Always Right.

It's folks in customer service who deal with customers who are... well... not always right. Occasionally there's a crass one, so my apologies if it's a little too much. It makes me giggle, so I thought I'd share.

The "no pancakes" one is my current favorite.

Sunday poems - A Song for Simeon

2010-09-07T19:26:00.000-04:00

I'm working as a hospice chaplain these days.

It can be very, very sad.

It can also be joyful in some strange ways, helping to usher people from life to death, from this world to the next; trying to help people find comfort and peace in the living as they prepare to die.

I came across this T.S. Eliot poem the other day that speaks to the end of life in a way nothing else I've come across does. It's a reference to Simeon, the old man at the temple who spoke to Mary and Joseph and their brand-new baby, Jesus. He had waited all his life to see the Messiah, and the Messiah had come.

I know it's not Sunday, but here's the poem.

"A Song for Simeon"
by T.S. Eliot

Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and
The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;
The stubborn season has made stand.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind,
Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Wait for the wind that chills toward the dead land.

Grant us thy peace.
I have walked many years in this city,
Kept faith and fast, provided for the poor,
Have given and taken honour and ease.
There went never any rejected from my door.

Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children's children
When the time of sorrow is come?
They will take to the goat's path, and the fox's home,
Fleeing from foreign faces and the foreign swords.

Before the time of cords and scourges and lamentation
Grant us thy peace.
Before the stations of the mountain of desolation,
Before the certain hour of maternal sorrow,
Now at this birth season of decease,
Let the Infant, the still unspeaking and unspoken Word,
Grant Israel's consolation
To one who has eighty years and no to-morrow.

According to thy word.
They shall praise Thee and suffer in every generation
With glory and derision,
Light upon light, mounting the saints' stair.
Not for me the martyrdom, the ecstasy of thought and prayer,
Not for me the ultimate vision.
Grant me thy peace.
(And a sword shall pierce thy heart,
Thine also.)
I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me,
I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me.
Let thy servant depart,
Having seen thy salvation.

Oh Tennessee...

2010-09-02T20:56:00.000-04:00

During the past week, I've seen/heard/witnessed the following two things:

1. People crying on the nightly news. Why? Were they broken up about another flood? An accident? An approaching hurricane? Nope. They were crying because tonight is the final Brooks & Dunn concert EVER.

2. A grown man, professionally dressed, use the phrase: "Oh me oh my!"

Tennessee makes me smile. Sometimes it makes me laugh. People here don't seem to take themselves overly seriously. All of this is good. Very good.

Sunday poems - "Another Reason I Don't Keep a Gun in the House"

2010-08-29T08:07:00.000-04:00

I do love Billy Collins.

I posted on Facebook over a week ago about how the barking dog in our neighborhood is driving me insane. He barks from 5:30am to 9:30am, nonstop, at about one-second intervals. Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark. Like a doggy metronome. Then, at 9:30am exactly, he stops. It's a mystery to me what he's on about and why he stops, but I would just love for him to knock it the heck off.

Of course, as of tomorrow I'll be getting up at 6am to go to work, so the dog will only cost me half an hour of sleep instead of the two or three he's been costing me lately.

My friend Melody reminded me of this poem to help me cope with the woofing madness.

I do so love Billy Collins.

"Another Reason Why I Don't Keep a Gun in the House"
Billy Collins

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark

that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking

and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

Thanks to www.sunyulster.edu for the picture of Billy Collins.

Where AM I?

2010-08-28T13:29:00.000-04:00

Daryl and I ran all of those annoying new-to-the-area errands yesterday. He changed our insurance from NJ to TN. We got new driver's licenses. We sat in some traffic (yeah, still figuring out when and where rush hour occurs in these here parts).

We were surprised to find out that the place where you get your new driver's license (the "Department of Safety," which, from the name, I would assume is where they inspect restaurants for health violations, but apparently is not) is not where you can also get new license plates for your car. So we headed out with our new DLs in hand to get our plates changed.

This particular office closed at 5pm. We arrived at 4:54pm and the line was halfway down the hall. This wasn't going to happen, but we decided to wait in line anyway. Just in case.

At 5pm a woman came out from behind the desk with a stack of labels in her hand. She handed each of us in the line one label and said, "We'll take all of you, but you're the last ones. If anyone comes after you, tell them to come back on Monday."

Daryl and I were flabbergasted. They were staying open late... for us? It was 5:03 on a FRIDAY. Why...?

We happily waited in line, and made it to the front around 5:20. The woman behind the desk filled out the necessary forms while chatting pleasantly with us both.

"Why do you stay open late?" we asked.

"What do you mean?" she said.

"Well... we were halfway down the hall, and it's after five."

"We wouldn't want you to have to come back on Monday!" she said, surprised.

"This wouldn't happen in New Jersey," I said.

"Really? Well whyever not?" she asked.

Just then there was a knock on the office door. The woman went to it, ready to explain to the would-be customer that they were now closed. It turned out to be the first customer of the day, who had returned at the day's end holding a box of cheesecake.

"This is for you," she said to the woman. "I work at the Cheesecake Factory around the corner, and you mentioned that strawberry is your favorite."

By now my jaw was hanging open and Daryl's eyes were wide. The woman said goodbye, took her cheesecake, and returned to help us.

"That was so nice," she said. "I mentioned that I like cheesecake, so she brought me some! Isn't that sweet?"

Where am I living? Places stay open a few moments just to "be nice," and customers at the DMV return with large boxes of cheesecake just to "be nice." I'm 98% sure that if we had looked longingly enough at that cheesecake the woman would have sent us home with half of it.

Gosh, this place is nice.

Observations on Tennessee

2010-08-24T12:07:00.001-04:00

Since I've now lived in Tennessee for eight days, I am an expert on Tennessee. No, really.

Actually I just wanted to share some observations from my first week here (much of which has been spent unpacking and running move-in errands to Target and Home Depot...). After I've been here months or years, they will surely change. There's nothing quite like the culture shock of the first week in a new place.

This list is not meant to communicate anything snide (such as: Tennessee is silly) or stereotypical (such as: people in the south are all ____), it's merely a list of observations gleaned from the past eight days.

1. People seem much more polite in Tennessee than in any state I've ever lived in.
This is, frankly, kind of unnerving after living in New Jersey. I'm torn between wanting to hug them ("Thank you for being NICE to me!") and wanting to check to make sure my wallet's still there.

2. The culture is more explicitly Christian than in the northeast or midwest.
There were Bible verses on the artwork on the walls of the hospital in town (don't worry - I was there for a meeting, not because I caught something terrible). There are about six decent Christian radio stations in town (SIX?!?!). Businesses often play these stations. It's just assumed that you go to church. We do go to church, but it's still odd when it's assumed.

3. It's legal to talk on the phone/text while driving. This is a terrible idea.
Many of the good folks of NJ are bad drivers. Very aggressive, very angry, very much in an utter hurry all the time. The folks in TN seem to be better drivers when they aren't on the phone. They seem to be on the phone a lot. I almost got mowed down in the Kroger parking lot by a soccer mom twenty minutes ago.

The Jersey girl in me muttered, not very charitably, "Thanks for almost killing me! Hope that phone call was REALLY IMPORTANT!" I'm going to need to stop doing that here.

4. The spirit of Tennessee seems to be, "It's really hot, but we'll do everything we would normally do even if it's 100 degrees outside."
People are washing the windows of a skyscraper in town today. It's 89 degrees out (with 217% humidity), and it isn't even noon. An elderly gentleman came by last week to mow our lawn - apparently he's contracted with our landlady - and we were utterly appalled. It was about 98 outside. We brought him a bottle of cold water and he kindly waved us off.

"I'm fine," he said. "This is normal." On the surface of the sun, maybe.

5. People talk about church like it's the weather.
Daryl and I went out to dinner a couple of days ago, and the waiter (who was a hipster British guy with messed up hair and an air of utter cool about him) found out we were new to the area and asked us if we'd found a church yet. Um... what? We appreciated his input, but it was so odd to have someone in the service industry just assume that we went to church. It was his third question after "where are you from" and "do you like Nashville." Odd indeed.

6. Sundresses are the thing to wear if you're a 20-something woman.
Seriously. When I wear shorts or pants out I feel very out of place. It's one way to beat the heat, I guess!

7. People in the service industry expect a greeting and a little bit of conversation before engaging in a business transaction.
I went into a meeting today all businesslike (as I've been trained in the northeast), and the receptionist responded with, "Good morning."

Taken aback, I responded in kind.

"How are you this morning?" she asked.

"Um, good?" I responded. "Can I--"

"It's a beautiful day," she said. By this point I was starting to understand the drill.

"Yes it is!" I said. "And how are you?"

After another thirty seconds of banter she helped me with what I was after. It reminds me of when my family traveled to France a decade ago and my dad kept getting reprimanded by salesclerks for his brusque, American manner.

"I'd like a--" he'd begin.

"Bonjour," they'd say, firmly.

"Right," he'd say. "I'd like a--"

"BONJOUR," they'd say again.

"Oh," he'd say, finally understanding. "Bonjour."

"What would you like?" they'd respond.

I'm going to have to relearn some social cues around these parts.

8. It's freaking hot here.
Oh my goodness. Daryl and I tried to be brave and go to the Nashville zoo (the zoo is one of my favorite, favorite things to do), and we only lasted an hour. We each drank a full water bottle and a soda, and we only lasted an hour. We melted into puddles of sweat and both came home with headaches. This will take some getting used to... Or else I'll stay inside until November. Either way.

9. It's the south. There will be bugs.
My word are there bugs. We live in the city, so we have it better than most country folks in this regard, but STILL... God bless the swallows and mourning doves that have built nests around our garage. They spend most of the day hopping around our front yard swallowing things. I want to truck in about fifty more of them.

10. I like it here.
I really do.

I Loved this Summer: Part 2

2010-08-23T10:22:00.000-04:00

Part two of a wonderful summer begins in July. We celebrated Daryl's birthday in Wisconsin with gf German chocolate cake... Yum, yum, yum... I'm thankful to have a husband who was more than willing to let me bake him a gf cake so that I could share in the gluttony. He proclaimed it, "Just as good as a glutenous cake, and maybe even better. The frosting was definitely better!"

I discovered that making German chocolate cake frosting from scratch is pretty easy, but it's a bit horrifying what is in it. It is not good for you. But, birthdays are birthdays, and it was well worth all the butter and egg yolks for the amazing taste.

Aleah helped me do P90X. She was pretty awesome at it. She actually figured out the yoga positions and would do downward dog and upward dog before the fitness guy told her to do them. She's going to be quite the athlete!

Caitlyn was convinced that the water reserve tray for Daryl's coffee-maker birthday present was actually a giant remote control...

Daryl decided that we are probably not ready to have kids for awhile... (This is my favorite photo of the whole summer. You just can't beat these two facial expressions and matching outfits!)

We went to St. Joseph, Michigan, to visit our wonderful friends, and rode a bicycle surrey with a fringe on top. During our visit, Daniel (backseat) proposed to Megan (pink shirt) and she said YES! It's the first proposal I've ever been a part of (besides saying yes when Daryl asked, of course), and it was a wonderful and joyful day.

We had a great family reunion in Michigan (notice how many girls are in our family!). People came from as far as Pennsylvania for the annual event.

Sophie discovered her feet.

Aleah curled her... eyelashes?

We played about eight hundred games of mafia with the cousin crew (and I actually won one!)...

We saw the Cubs lose to the Cardinals on one of the windiest, hottest, rainiest days of the year. My knee-length skirt kept blowing up around my waist, so I actually had to change into some shorts I had in my backpack from staying at a friends' house the night before... I was never so grateful to have a backpack full of trip stuff. Came in verrrry handy.

We moved in to Nashville! This is a perfect picture of how randomly we packed some of the boxes. On top of those two boxes are the following: a three-hole punch, lavender soap from Trader Joe's, a makeup bag, one white heeled sandal, a small box of checkers, a handmade table runner (thanks, Caitlyn!), and six Christmas candle holders. What do these things have in common? Absolutely nothing.

And dear Eliot helped us unpack.

It was a good, good summer indeed. I'm sad to see it go!

Sunday poems - "Infirmity"

2010-08-22T15:23:00.001-04:00

Sandi, a longtime friend of my family and an incredible woman of faith, passed away from cancer last week. Yesterday my mom went to her funeral, and spent part of the day with Sandi's husband and three school-aged kids.

Her death has made me reflective about many things. As her husband Brian wrote in an email sent to all of her friends and family - "cancer was the little 'c' in Sandi's life; Christ was the big 'C'." She had cancer for eight years, and was hopeful, loving, and active throughout those years, despite her diagnosis.

I miss her. My family will miss her. Many people around the country and the world will miss her. The first time I got an email signed just "Brian," and not "Brian and Sandi," it hit me that she is really gone.

I won't belabor things here - for those of you who didn't know her, this is abstract. For those of you who did, there are better and more beautiful tributes on her CaringBridge website. But I did want to post a Sunday poem here, in her memory, and in the spirit of faith in Jesus in which she lived her life.

"Infirmity" - Theodore Roethke

In purest song one plays the constant fool
As changes shimmer in the inner eye.
I stare and stare into a deepening pool
And tell myself my image cannot die.
I love myself: that’s my one constancy.
Oh, to be something else, yet still to be!

Sweet Christ, rejoice in my infirmity;
There’s little left I care to call my own.
Today they drained the fluid from a knee
And pumped a shoulder full of cortisone;
Thus I conform to my divinity
By dying inward, like an aging tree.

The instant ages on the living eye;
Light on its rounds, a pure extreme of light
Breaks on me as my meager flesh breaks down—
The soul delights in that extremity.
Blessed the meek; they shall inherit wrath;
I’m son and father of my only death.

A mind too active is no mind at all;
The deep eye sees the shimmer on the stone;
The eternal seeks, and finds, the temporal,
The change from dark to light of the slow moon,
Dead to myself, and all I hold most dear,
I move beyond the reach of wind and fire.

Deep in the greens of summer sing the lives
I’ve come to love. A vireo whets its bill.
The great day balances upon the leaves;
My ears still hear the bird when all is still;
My soul is still my soul, and still the Son,
And knowing this, I am not yet undone.

Things without hands take hands: there is no choice,—
Eternity’s not easily come by.
When opposites come suddenly in place,
I teach my eyes to hear, my ears to see
How body from spirit slowly does unwind
Until we are pure spirit at the end.

I Loved this Summer: Part 1

2010-08-21T12:04:00.000-04:00

Well, the new academic year is upon us. Daryl heads back to school on Monday. I start work the following Monday. I'm grieving the end of an incredible summer. Does it really have to end? Below are some of the promised pictures from a really wonderful and blessed time with family and friends in states across the country. I wish it never had to end...

We hung out at my parents' lake in Wisconsin and swam, swam, swam.

We visited Bayfield, Wisconsin, on wild Lake Superior with all its natural beauty.

We celebrated our friends Daniel and Emily's wedding with a post-wedding reception in northern Wisconsin. This is a photo of our old homeschooled group of friends. Sigh... Everyone's so grown up now!

I read books to my four-month old (and ridiculously adorable) niece, Sophie.

The girls had days out on the town.

My niece Aleah helped me put on some makeup for date night.

Sophie bonded with her great-grandpa.

Aleah wanted more brownies...

We visited the soon-to-be-married Mike and Tonia up in Duluth.

We saw Split Rock lighthouse on Lake Superior.

I wore my Chacos pretty much every day (and now have a rockin' sandal tan).

Daryl and Dad grilled in a downpour. That's dedication!

Mom and I did some great flea market shopping.

The rest? To be continued (including my very favorite photo of the whole summer!)...

Spider Update

2010-08-20T10:00:00.000-04:00

Well, it happened.

I was sitting on the living room floor, assembling a shoe rack, when it happened.

A giant, massive, disgusting, spider crawled across the floor.

I had bare feet. What to do?

I didn't panic. I just calmly picked up part of the shoe rack and whapped the spider with it. One whap. Dead spider.

Then, I called Daryl and had a little mini-meltdown in his arms while babbling things like, "I would be such a terrible missionary! I could only be a missionary to Siberia, or to the reindeer herders! I would be a really good missionary to the reindeer herders!"

Sigh.

I also made him examine the spider (I'd do it, but then I'd wake him up every night for a week with my weird spider-phobic nightmares) and then look online to see if it was, in fact, venomous.

Was it a brown recluse? Results are inconclusive. It did have the telltale brown violin shape on its abdomen, but we couldn't count its eyes (I squished them), and the violin shape is also found on "the cellar spider, and the pirate spider." YUCK. Thanks, wikipedia.

I'm pretty sure it crawled out of our fireplace, so our next step is to have a massive fire in there and stomp on everything that crawls out. Ewwwww...

In the meantime, I'm doing my best to be really brave. And I'm wearing shoes now, for better stomping. Ah, Tennessee... You will certainly take me awhile to settle in.

Ten on Moving-In Day

2010-08-18T11:40:00.001-04:00

As soon as I can find my camera cord (ah, the joys of moving), there will be many, many photos to share, both from the summer and from our new home city.

For now, with our home in fairly serious disarray (Daryl and I walk around going, "Where's my... Where's my...") and with small mountains of boxes still to unpack, we'll all have to settle for a "Ten on Tuesday"-style post. Bear with me, friends. I'm still looking for my socks...

1. What's your favorite thing about your new home?

Everything. No, really... I love, love, love, love, LOVE our new home. It's cute and charming and affordable and in a great location. By great location, I mean both not-in-New-Jersey and in a wonderful part of town that's within walking distance of half a dozen great locations.

I love the setup of the townhome - bedrooms upstairs, living/dining/kitchen downstairs.

I love all the sunlight we get, and that we can see the sunset from our front windows.

I love that Daryl and I live here together, like normal married folks are supposed to do.

I LOVE that we have a washer and dryer, and that said washer and dryer are not located in a moldy, spider-infested, continually-flooded basement. I don't have to save quarters, nor do I have to wear my hiking boots to avoid stepping in ankle-deep puddles. Glory be.

God has really blessed us in finding this new place, and I'm super grateful. After looking online for nearly a month, we had a list of "these-might-be-okay" places. My friend Megan (thank you, Megan!!!) gave me the advice to just drive around close to Daryl's school to see what we found. We sat in the car, prayed for guidance and wisdom, and drove straight to this place. I love it when God answers prayers in under a minute. It's rare, but I love it!

2. What has surprised you most about this move?

How much easier unloading is than loading. It took us two days to load up, and about three hours to unload. When we loaded our POD we had to carry everything around the building and up a hill in the backyard. Yuck. The bigger furniture had to go over the balcony railing. It was not fun for anyone, particularly Daryl and my Dad who did about 99% of the work, poor guys.

Loading up:

Unloading:

Yes, I'm kidding. It wasn't quite as easy as a beach vacation. But... it was pretty easy. A million thanks to our Nashville-area friends Jacob, Ted, and Sean for helping with the heavy stuff. You guys rock.

3. What's your least favorite thing about your new home?

As I was unloading our dishes, I suddenly realized that there is not a single drawer in the kitchen. No drawers! I hadn't thought to look at this when we toured the house, because I've never been in a house without kitchen drawers. Where are we going to put the silverware? In mason jars? In some sort of caddy? In the pantry? To be determined...

4. What is the funniest fight you and your spouse have gotten into regarding this move?

We needed a little corner cabinet or shelving unit in the dining room (probably to hold the silverware, of all things...). We looked online and went back and forth about how much we could afford and whether we should buy something, etc., etc., etc. Daryl wanted something dark wood that would match the other furniture. I wanted a cute cottage-y white cabinet. We both got grumpy. Then we looked over to a pile of boxes on the other side of the room.

"Hey," I said. "What about that shelf we have right there?"

We had forgotten that we had a corner shelf, in our three months of moving madness.

"Well, that would work," he said.

Problem solved. Husband and wife = sheepishly friends again.

5. How do you like your new home town?

I LOVE Nashville. Love it. Love it.

I wish it was a little bit less hot... Maybe 90 instead of 98? But other than that I adore it. And I suppose the greenhouse-like heat and humidity are what cause all of these gorgeous flowers to thrive over on the university campus.

6. What are you most worried about in your new home?

Spiders. I know, that's kind of pathetic, and I haven't seen a single one yet, though I've poked around in all the closets and under all of the cabinets. But I know it's just a matter of time, since we live in the buggy south and all.

I woke Daryl up two nights ago yelling, "Get it off of me! Get it off!" and flipping back the covers of our bed.

He turned on the light switch and said, "Get WHAT off?"

"The spider... centipede... bug... thing..." I said, sleepily. That's when he knew I was dreaming.

"Great," he thought. "Now my wife is wanting me to kill imaginary bugs even in her sleep. Fantastic."

I'm not afraid of much. Tornadoes? No problem. Living in poverty? Come on, I went to graduate school twice. Grizzly bears? Leave them alone and they'll leave you alone. Tiny spiders? No problem. BIG spiders? Kill me now.

My northwoods mother is SO disappointed that she raised such a spider-phobic daughter. This summer I watched her grab big spiders by a leg and fling them off our deck railing. Um, YUCK! I don't have that level of poise and control. Sorry, mom. But you are pretty awesome.

This sums up my spider fear pretty perfectly.

(Thanks, hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com!)

7. When are you going back to work, again?

August 30. My birthday will also be my first day of work. Have I mentioned that I'll be working as a hospital/hospice chaplain this year? I'll be doing a CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) residency year (a year of advanced chaplaincy training) through a Nashville hospital and hospice program.

I'm looking forward to getting back to all the challenges, joys, and difficulties of chaplaincy. It's an incredible privilege to spend the final months/weeks/days of a person's life with them and with their family. There's really nothing quite like it.

It's also a field where I get to use all my ministerial skills, and one that continues to push me to grow as a minister and as a person. CPE has an educational component as well, which I love. It'd be hard for me to go from full-time student status to full-time-work-with-no-educational-component status.

Two weeks until Chaplain Courtney returns!

8. Why did you choose this new spot to live?

Daryl goes to school here. We moved to Princeton for me (though it ended up being a great move for him, as he eventually decided to do an M.Div. there as well), and now we've moved to Nashville for him. Also, have I mentioned that Nashville is awesome? It's awesome.

9. What has surprised you most about your new home?

How many friends and family are coming to visit! We had some great visitors in Princeton, but the most surprising thing to me was that as soon as we mentioned we were moving to Nashville, we were deluged with requests to visit. Apparently visiting in New Jersey is just not quite as fun/cool/convenient/friendly as visiting in Nashville.

I'm 1,000% excited about having more visitors and being closer and more convenient to those we love. Come visit us, friends!

10. Who are you most looking forward to having visit your new home?

Um, everyone. Seriously. My family, Daryl's family, my friends from seminary, my friends from home, Daryl's friends from home, our friends from Nashville. Come! Come for dinner or games or just to hang out. If you're from out of town, we (for the first time in our married life!) have a guest room! In two weeks we'll even have a guest bed! So you should probably wait two weeks. But then come!

Also, have I mentioned that Nashville is awesome? We have all the music you can stand, pro sports teams, great hiking trails, and all the gluten-free options a person could want (though this probably appeals more to me than to most of you). We also have two fat and happy cats who like to sleep on visitors faces. They'd be happy to sleep on yours.

I Guess I'm Cool Now

2010-08-15T23:47:00.000-04:00

I live in Nashville now.

Me.

I live in Nashville.

So does Taylor Swift, Tim McGraw, Amy Grant, and the Kings of Leon.

The Avett Brothers concert here sold out in about nine minutes.

People run into Carrie Underwood and the guys from Switchfoot at the dry cleaners.

It's pretty neat.

Am I Ready for This?

2010-08-11T11:17:00.000-04:00

There are many updates to be made on this wonderful summer I've had. Daryl and I have traveled to Duluth, Minnesota; Bayfield, Wisconsin, Chicago; and various parts of Michigan. We've visited with friends and hung out for a week with my entire extended family on my dad's side. More than all of that, we've been at my childhood home with my parents, sisters, brother-in-law, and niece for enough time that none of us were counting down the days we had left.

It's been wonderful.

There will be many pictures to come, but until I get those loaded, I have some other news to share...

We move to Nashville in just three days! For the first time in our lives (minus the year Daryl had in Nashville, but we're counting this year as our first "official" stay) we will be southerners. We will be Nashville-ites. We will brave the crazy humidity and the boisterous thunderstorms (and the occasional giant spider) and move into our first real grown-up home. Prior to this we've been either in an apartment or in college/seminary housing. This is the first place we've really chosen as adults. It has a WASHER and DRYER. We are going to get some patio furniture! It's going to be wonderful.

I checked the weather for the next ten days, just to see what our move-in would look like:

Friday: 96 degrees, thunderstorms

Saturday: 93 degrees, thunderstorms

Sunday: 90, thunderstorms

Monday: 90, thunderstorms

Tuesday: 89, thunderstorms

Wednesday: 89, thunderstorms

Thursday: 87, thunderstorms

Friday: 89, thunderstorms

On the upside, it does look to be cooling off a bit...

I am 100% excited, but I'm also wondering, am I ready for this part of the country? That's some weather there, folks! Eep...

Ouch. My ____ Hurts!

2010-08-04T14:31:00.002-04:00

I have been seriously out of shape for the past three years.

That's not a sentence I thought I'd ever write. Growing up I played ice hockey and soccer and ran track. I was always in shape.

In college I rock climbed four or five days a week. I had shoulder muscles on my shoulder muscles. I had triceps on my triceps. I could do (wait for it... wait for it...) NINE pull-ups in a row. It was rad.

But then I went to graduate school and spent all my time hunched over my laptop writing papers. The time I had where I wasn't hunched over my laptop writing papers I was either working dozens of hours at an internship, teaching classes at a local university, working as a teaching assistant at the seminary, or (most often) all three. After days like those I would be lucky if I could cook dinner before I collapse onto the couch to do the next day's reading.

I learned a heckuvalot, but I sure didn't exercise.

By this point in the post, if you don't know me personally, you're probably picturing a giant, flabby person. That's the thing, though - I haven't really gained any weight. This is good and bad. Good because I still fit in my clothes, but bad because I had no real incentive to get back in shape. Why bother?

Well, now is the time. This summer I've spent time with family in northern Wisconsin and I have decided - nay, vowed - to get back in shape. No matter what. At any cost. My rationale is this: if I can't exercise now, with no real time commitments, I will never exercise again.

Fifteen days ago, I began ninety days of insanity.

I began P90X.

P90X is basically a 90-day boot camp to get in great shape. It's a big infomercial seller, but my parents had the good fortune to find it at a local thrift store for $20.00, so I'm doing it for free right now. You exercise for between an hour and an hour and a half six days a week at intense levels. You work out your arms, legs, abs, and cardio. You push yourself to the point of wanting to throw up. It's insanity, I tell you!

After two weeks, my everything hurts. On the upside, I am beginning to see a bit of toning in my arms, legs, and abs. And I'm sleeping better than I have in years. I mean, like the dead, sleeping. It's glorious.

Daryl's doing it with me. It's hard. It's glorious. It's necessary. It's time.

We'll keep you posted.

Money and Jesus: Part 1

2010-07-28T09:32:00.000-04:00

"I hate money," proclaims Jo March, heroine of Little Women (and of bookish young girls everywhere).

Her sister is sick, her father is away fighting the Civil War, and her mother needs an expensive train ticket to fetch the doctor. Admirable, spontaneous Jo does what many a Civil War-era heroine did when faced with an expense too great to pay out of pocket: she sells her hair.

This leads to the best line in the whole movie (Little sister Amy, upon seeing the shorn Jo: "But Jo, your one beauty!"), but it is Jo's first proclamation that makes my point today. Oh, money. How difficult you are.

My husband and I have been graduate students, on and off, for the past five years. One of my favorite Wheaton professors was fond of saying, "The nice thing about staying in graduate school is that you get really good at being poor."

This is true. We're almost rocket-scientists when it comes to finding deals (there's a $4 movie theater on the other side of town!) or saving money (cooking without meat 4-5 days a week can save a bundle). We get tips from other grad-school friends and family who are also quite adept (and often even MORE adept) at making ends meet when those ends are quite short to begin with.

We certainly haven't suffered during our graduate school years - family and friends been exceedingly (almost ridiculously) generous and we've budgeted carefully and thoughtfully. We also aren't grumpy about our state of affairs. We love learning and ideas, and this is the path we've chosen for a reason. Investment banking just doesn't have the same siren call, to us!

Still, having less money usually means being inconvenienced. We won't starve, certainly. But we'll wait at the airport three hours for a ride instead of paying for a cab ($60!!!). We'll wait until Monday to go to the Urgent Care clinic with a bad sore throat instead of going to the Emergency Department on a Saturday ($$$$$!!!). We take walks together for dates and get our books from the library. A real splurge is a night at Maggiano's or Outback. Concerts are largely a thing of the past. We stay with friends whenever we can while traveling (which has the added bonus of fun visits on top of staying in our budget).

Our premarital counselors told us that God usually gives every couple one person who is the "gas pedal" and one who is the "brake" when it comes to spending money. This can (obviously) cause some conflict.

I'll admit that I am the gas pedal in our relationship. Yet, my ability to spend money really quickly is not always because I'm generous. Usually it's because I don't handle much of the budgeting, so I don't know what we'll be sacrificing if I splurge on an item. I don't usually want to spend tons of money on myself (though cute clothes can be tempting, to say the least...), but I do want to give it away. I want to buy the BEST wedding gift. I want to put a thousand dollars in the offering plate. I want to buy out Baby Gap for my cute little nieces. When friends come for dinner I want to cook steak, darn it, and not the cheap kind.

Daryl (luckily) is a bit wiser. He is our brake pedal. He's the one who asks if we really need something, or if we just want it. He helps weigh price and convenience against budget and savings. Though sometimes (as he'll readily admit), he can brake too much. We're learning to balance. We're learning to give. We're learning to save. We're learning to be wise.

I've been challenged in my thinking about money this summer. For one thing, I'm staying with my parents up in Wisconsin (read: no rent payments for a few months and lots and lots of meals for which we don't pay). It's an incredible gift. It's amazing. It's restful. And it's given me some space to relax and think about money in a way other than, "Oh goodness, we MUST STICK TO THE BUDGET OR WE WILL HAVE NO SHOES AND NO FOOD!!!"

I don't want my relationship with money to be one of fear. I don't want to hate it, like Jo. I also don't want to love it, as that can obviously lead to all sorts of problems. What I really want is to treat it as another aspect of living life under the power and grace of Jesus. The Lord of the universe is Lord over my wallet, my bank account, and my desire for a new pair of shoes, too.

Some good friends of our family teach at churches and conferences about stewardship. Recently they've started keeping a log of all the ways God has blessed them financially through family, friends, gifts, and surprises. This is admirable, and it's something Daryl and I have started to do. It's so easy in the middle of a financial drain (a crazy vet bill, a dental crown, graduate school) to feel suffocated. How will we make it through this? Now we have something tangible to look at, to see where God has cared for us in the past, and will certainly care for us in the future.

But here's the crazy thing about these friends: Not only do they keep a record of these bountiful gifts; they tithe off of them.

That means if their church sends them on a camping trip that would have costed, oh, $400 for their family of five, they put $40 in the offering plate. If someone were to donate a car worth $5,000, then $500 would go in. This is so incredibly brave and full of faith that it almost scares me to think about, especially coming from a graduate school budget.

I don't think that this is the solution for everyone when learning to be a good steward of what God has given, but it does give me pause.

For this family, tithing is worship. For Daryl and I it is often either blind giving (Daryl does most of our budgeting, so when I'm tempted to be crazily-generous in the offering plate, it's often because I don't count the cost, which isn't really generosity as much as it is randomness) or fearful giving. I want our tithing to be an act of worship. I want to give to God because of what God has bountifully given to us, even if our piggy banks feel light.

*Image borrowed from: http://ingridgraceandaudrey.blogspot.com/2008/09/re-let-it-be-love3.html

Ten on Tuesday (Take Nine)

2010-07-27T12:50:00.000-04:00

It's been awhile since I've ventured into one of these, but hey, a girl's got to get back on the horse again sometime. So here we go... Summer-themed!

1. What's the best summer job you ever had?
My favorite was probably working as a high school staffer at a camp out in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I was out there for over a month helping to lead trips to Yellowstone with campers, cook and clean up in the kitchen, and clean the cabins. Between all of those things, I hiked dozens of trails in the Tetons, learned to rock climb, and developed a massive crush on a guy from their Bible College. I also discovered my love of blueberry-pineapple smoothies and cut all my hair off. It was a great summer.

2. What's the worst?
I don't think I've had a worst, necessarily, but it is tough to be stuck inside on a beautiful, sunny day. Those days are meant for being outside, at least for a lunch break!

3. What's your favorite summer activity?
I love summer walks. Walking down the road, walking to get dinner, walking around the zoo, walking through a flea market. I love not feeling freezing or rushing from one place to another because it's cold. Most of my summers have been spent in places far north of the Mason-Dixon line (Wisconsin, Chicago, New Jersey, Wyoming, Colorado), so summer is in the 70s and it's glorious. Though I haven't lived in the deep south yet, so maybe walking in the winter will be my favorite activity while I'm there...

4. What's one summer smell that brings back a summer memory?
The smell of cut grass reminds me of my dad mowing the lawn in the summer. No matter where I am across the country, that summer smell brings back a picture of my dad pushing our elderly lawnmower up the steep hill on the side of the house. It was dedication, that's for sure.

5. What's the best summer dinner of all time?
Anything on the grill. Chicken. Corn on the cob. Kabobs. Mixed veggies. Steak. Burgers. I would eat pretty much anything grilled. Pineapple. Asparagus. With watermelon on the side, of course.

I also love how gluten-free friendly summer is. It's pretty easy to make things gluten-free if you grill them. Peppers with olive oil? Great. Burgers with garlic and mozzarella? Perfect. Baked potatoes? Hard to mess those up!

6. What summer activity don't you like (and why)?
Tubing. I don't know why, but being pulled fast behind a boat makes me want to crawl under a seat with a towel over my head. It's scary. There are no lanes and tons of people drinking and driving boats (my family-of course-does not drink and drive boats, but thousands of tourists who visit the northwoods definitely, definitely do) in erratic fashions. I don't want to lose a leg to a boat motor. Nope. Don't want to do it. It's almost a phobia.

7. When does summer begin where you live?
In New Jersey? April. But they don't turn on the air conditioning until May, making for some very cranky Princeton students.

In Wisconsin? It depends on the year. Sometimes June. Sometimes July. Sometimes only for a day or two before fall begins.

In Tennessee? I'm not sure yet, but probably sooner rather than later... My real question will be when WINTER begins (if at all...).

8. When does it end?
In New Jersey? October.

In Wisconsin? August. Or September, if it's a lucky year.

In Tennessee? Hmm... November? December? Ever?

9. What was the craziest thing you ever did during a summer?
When I was in high school I went bridge jumping with a bunch of friends from the youth group. Not that smart, and not that safe, but loads of fun. Definitely in the years before whatever that brain piece that tells you "Stop! That isn't safe!" kicks in...

Another summer some friends and I traveled up the Black River, jumped off cliffs into the river, and swam in the rapids. Again, not safe, but loads of fun.

This past summer I worked as a chaplain in an ICU unit. It was exhausting, exhilarating, enlightening, and occasionally even entertaining. I mostly loved it and sometimes hated it, but I always loved what I learned and how different things were each day. As for crazy, when any machine in the ICU starts beeping, things get really crazy really quickly...

10. What's one thing you don't like about summer?
Some days I don't like the pressure to be outside. Some days I want to curl up with a book and not feel guilty for not making the most of the sunshine. But only some days.

Fluffy

2010-07-23T10:46:00.001-04:00

During my time (9+ years!) away from the northwoods of Wisconsin, I'd forgotten how much it is Animal Planet-esque up here. There are raccoons and foxes, fish and ducks, salamanders, toads, and even the occasional black bear. It's entertaining and exciting, to say the least. Sometimes it's even a little bit crazy.

Case in point: Two weeks ago there was a nest of tiny baby sparrows in a hanging plant on my parents' front porch. We peeked in on them almost every day and watched them go from tiny, featherless pink babies to slightly larger, featherless pink babies. Their mom fed them and watched over them, and we felt privileged to have a peek into their cute little world.

Then my parents' cat, Roxy, a former stray who my father refers to as a "cold-blooded killer" (you see where this is going?) found the nest and ate the babies. Lovely.

Deer wander through our front yard every day. Yesterday they went all the way up to the front porch and ate all of the flowers out of my mom's flower pots.

Twice last week raccoons were in the compost bin.

See what I mean?

Meet Fluffy:

While my sisters, mom, and niece were on the front porch a few days ago, they saw a bluejay get in a fight with some nuthatches and then steal a nuthatch baby and bite its head off. It was pretty traumatizing. Honestly, whoever thinks that nature is just cute and cuddly is out of his or her mind...

After the bluejay cannibalism, there was one little fledgling nuthatch left on the ground, shaken and scared. What to do? We waited a bit for the parents, but they didn't come back.

He was so pitiful and cute and helpless, so we tried to put him back in his tree. He jumped out. We put him back. He jumped out again. Not wanting him to hurt himself, we put him in a nest my brother-in-law found in the woods awhile ago, and put that nest in a box to keep him safe.

Seriously, how cute is he?

After doing some research, we learned that fledglings hang out on the ground as they learn to fly (hence, why putting him back in a tree resulted in him catapulting himself out of the tree...). Usually their parents stick around to care for them, but in this case we didn't see them.

We fed Fluffy some soggy cat food and hamburger, and watched him for a few hours. My mom figured out that if we tapped on the front of the nest, he would open his mouth and search for food. If we didn't tap on it, he would clamp his little beak shut and we couldn't get any food in at all. There was much tapping. I squashed over a dozen ants, which he loved.

My two-year old niece, Aleah, fell in love with him.

"Fuffy birdie! Fuffy birdy! Poor birdy." She has trouble with her l's.

Since Roxy is a proven cold-blooded killer, we fed Fluffy some bedtime hamburger and put him in his nest in a box in the closet for the night.

It might sound silly, but I found myself praying for this little tiny bird that night. That he'd be okay. That we'd find his parents. After all the animal drama we've had this summer, it's incredible to me that God cares for every sparrow and knows what is happening to each tiny bird. In our front yard alone there must be three dozen birds with nests and eggs and little bird lives. God knows every one. And God knows Fluffy.

I need to remember this when I'm in the midst of a crisis (read: job search). It's so easy to be anxious about things in life, particularly in such a transitory phase as that which my husband and I find ourselves in these days. Where will we we end up? Will my calling to the church result in an official position, and if so, when? Will there be a teaching job for Daryl, a pastoring job, or both? Or (gulp) neither?

Then I remember: how much more will God care for me than for a tiny bird?

I woke up at dawn, fed Fluffy breakfast, and then put him back under the tree where his parents had last taken care of him.

Then I waited. It was a misty, foggy, chilly morning. I didn't want him to be cold or to starve, but I also knew that we couldn't feed a bird twenty times a day for long, especially with Roxy in the house. His parents had to come through.

I waited some more.

Then, praise be, the mommy bird came back. Then, the daddy bird came back. They preened Fluffy's feathers. He chirped with happiness. They fed him a caterpillar. He spread his tiny fledgling feathers with joy.

My family made one more trip out to say goodbye.

"Bye, fuffy birdie!" said Aleah.

Who knew a nature channel story could end so well?

Bring your Asbestos Suit

2010-07-16T13:13:00.002-04:00

You forget, when you live in a big city (or even a big-ish town like Princeton, NJ) that small-towns don't follow the same rules as cities. Take safety, for example.

On July 3 we trekked up to Land O' Lakes to see the annual fireworks. These are a northwoods institution. People come from hundreds of miles around to watch the biggest fireworks show in the north every year. Walking around the parking lot, Daryl and I counted license plates from as far away as Texas and Arizona, not to mention many from Michigan, Minnesota, Illinois, and Iowa.

This is a show.

And I'm not just talking about the fireworks.

Between the school bus full of exceedingly drunk people (hey, at least they aren't driving! wait... aren't those my parents' tax dollars at work?) that arrives by bouncing across the airport runways (did I mention that this takes place at the airport and that we all get to DRIVE on the runways?) to the tailgating to the gangsta rock playing out of several sketchy pickup trucks, this was an experience to be remembered.

We gathered with some great family friends to eat and laugh as dusk fell. Then, the show began.

Several people had commented that it was really windy. As in: REALLY. WINDY.

Someone else commented offhandedly that the wind was blowing toward us from where the fireworks would be set off. Hmmm. Interesting.

As the first firework set off in the sky, I was laying on a picnic blanket with my husband, my youngest sister, and my good friend Tonia.

"Ooooh!" we said.

"Aaaah!" we said.

"OUCH!" we said.

"OH MY GOSH, IT'S RAINING FIRE!" we said.

And then we sprinted to the car and watched the show from the trunk while my dad screamed, "Incoming!"

People sat out on their picnic blankets watching the rain of fire and swatting lazily at pieces of flaming cardboard as it rained down in sheets. It burned holes in our camping chairs. It burned people's blankets. It went on and on and on and no one else was even fazed by the fire from the sky. People put their children up on their shoulders to see better.

In the end the fire department only had to put out one medium-sized fire near the woods. Everyone else survived with just minor shrapnel damage...

"This," said Daryl, "is why I live in the city. We have rules."

It was a pretty awesome show, though. I'm not gonna lie...

Happy July, everyone!

"Who's On First": Nashville Edition

2010-06-28T10:56:00.000-04:00

First things first: we are moving into a townhouse/duplex. We'd been calling it a condo until someone corrected us. Condos are to apartments what townhouses are to... well, houses, I guess. Our new place is definitely more house-like, and only shares a building with one other unit. Apparently that's not a condo. Don't ask me, I grew up in the forest.

We're safely back in Wisconsin now, after a 17-hour drive home from Nashville. Is it supposed to take that long? No. Contributing factors? Big accident in Indiana. White Sox fans. Mostly White Sox fans. Still, we made it back, and all is well.

To further remind us that we had, indeed, made the right decision in where to rent, I have to recount one other apartment-agent interaction we had while in Nashville. Daryl still chuckles when I mention this one...

So we were looking at a few apartment complexes. We left early to visit each one, but this particular one was off of Old Hickory. If you know Nashville, you know that Old Hickory winds around the city in about five different directions. It's easy to get lost on Old Hickory, which we promptly did. So I called the apartment offices for directions.

Them: "Hello, _____ apartments."

Me: "Hi, my name is Courtney and I'm scheduled to look at apartments in about half an hour. Can you give me directions to the complex?"

Them: "Well, who did you book your appointment with?"

Me: (Fumbling through my notebook for a second). "Um... I don't really know."

Them: "I just need the name of the person."

Me: "Right, well, I don't know that. I didn't write it down. I've booked a lot of appointments during the last few days."

Them: "Do you know who the appointment is with?"

Me: "I'm sorry, I don't. I just need directions, though. I don't need to tell you who I booked an appointment with to get directions, do I? We won't be late, we just aren't sure how to find you guys."

Them: "Just go south on 65."

(I should mention now that 65 goes north all the way through Indiana and south far beyond Nashville).

Me: "South on... but I haven't told you where I am yet. Don't you need to know that?"

Them: "We're pretty much right off of 65."

Me: "But... that doesn't make any sense if you don't know where I am right now. I'm down by Brentwood." (Brentwood is about ten minutes south of Nashville)

Them: "Right. Go south."

Me: "But then I'm going to end up in Georgia!"

Them: "Just go south on 65."

Me: "Okay. Do you know what? I'd just like to cancel my appointment."

Them: "Who was it with?"

Siiiiigh...

Apartment Hunting: Round 3

2010-06-27T00:02:00.001-04:00

I suppose it is misleading to label this series "Apartment Hunting" because, as we soon discovered, we do not want to live in an apartment. After visiting only one we became immediately irritated with the whole mass-marketed apartment world.

"Come! Rent our place!" they scream. "We have amenities like pool parties that you will never go to and free popcorn from six days ago!" And then, when you need something fixed, they hassle you. Also, they keep the garbage dumpster far, far away from where you live so that you get to take your trash for a car ride. Fun.

So after our very first apartment glance, we changed course. We wanted a house. A home. A place that felt like maybe we were grown-ups and not just displaced college students.

The problem there was that homes are pricey. Way over our budget, for the most part. Enter townhouse/condo/duplex. Ah, this was good. The personable nature of a house with a smaller price tag because of one shared wall. Perfect.

So we looked some more today.

First we saw a run down duplex that had five of these living next door:

But it's cool, right? Because the yard was separated from the duplex's yard by a shoddy fence. And pit bulls are friendly, right? I mean, they love people so much that sometimes they eat them.

Next we saw a cute-and-affordable-but-kind-of-far-away-and-in-a-sketch-neighborhood place. We fell in love with the landlord here (around our age, a former Christian college student, offered to put in lots of sweet amenities for not much money), but the distance and neighborhood were too much for us. Also, it was right across the road from a BP refinery. Lots of issues with that one. Like, I like to breathe air. And not have cancer.

Throughout the day we were waiting for K, our potential landlady, to call us. She was offering our dream townhouse to the first folks who viewed it. If they didn't want it, it as ours. So we waited, nervously, while looking at other potential options. I had a hard time sleeping last night because I was so anxious. What if someone else took it first? What if it fell through? What if she decided that she didn't want to rent to us for some bizarre reason? What if she suddenly changed her mind about allowing cats?

So we continued our just-in-case tour. We saw a cute house and called to see how much it was renting for. The number was over twice our budget. Eep. You could buy a house for that much in some places in Wisconsin.

We waited. We were nervous. We waited.

Then, she called.

"I haven't heard from the first folks," she said. "If you want it, it's yours."

We told her we were getting in the car with our checkbook.

And we signed a lease.

I was a silly disorganized person and forgot the camera when we toured it, so there are no photos (yet). Tomorrow we head back to Wisconsin.

So, beginning in August we are now living 1.5 miles from Vanderbilt, a couple of miles from the hospital where I'll be twice a week, and only 20 minutes from my place of work the rest of the week. We are one mile from Daryl's favorite coffee shop and my favorite resale shop. We are less than a mile from my two favorite gluten-free restaurants. We are just over a mile away from some friends (hi, M and P!) who moved downtown last week. We are in a safe neighborhood that's still close to the city. We have a yard. We are a hundred million times excited.

We have a fireplace. We have a washer and dryer. We have a garage. We have two stories.

Also, we have a guest room. So come visit.

And we are very, very happy.

Apartment Hunting: Round 2

2010-06-25T22:42:00.001-04:00

Today was a better day. No broken-down car, no side-of-the-interstate, and (perhaps most importantly), no venomous insects. Today went as follows:

1. Drove the drive from Place #1 (hardwood living room pictured below) to Daryl's school and my work to see how long it would take. Were hoping for 30 minutes or under. It clocked in at 40-45. Boo. Still, love the place and are thinking it might be home.

2. Visited a really, really awful place. Quoth the landlord's lackey: "Yeah, if you see any pests, that's probably, you know, your fault, and you should call the pest control guy and pay him yourselves." Ooookay...

3. Stumbled upon an amazing house within two miles of Daryl's school. Called the landlady, who came by a little bit later. Saw it. Loved it. Are waiting to hear back from the landlady tomorrow to see if the people who visited just before us want it. If not, this is home. Praying for this to be home. So close to everything! In a great neighborhood! No pet deposit! Love it, love it, love it... We'll know by 4pm tomorrow if it is ours.

4. Visited a condo previously rented by Vanderbilt basketball players. It. Was. Gross. Also, overpriced. When we got back in the car Daryl whispered, "Did you see the facial hair in the sinks? GROSS!" I won't even tell you about the carpets. Also, a keg in the backyard. Classy, kids.

5. Called up two more spots to see tomorrow in the early morning. Two more duplexes close to Vandy and within our budget. One looks kinda ugly, one looks kinda cute. We're giving both a chance.

We're feeling good. It's been a long few days (and we're a bit slap happy at this point), but we're feeling good. We've stayed with some dear, wonderful friends, and that has helped. Those friends are gf-folks, so they even made us a totally safe (and completely amazing) dinner. What a luxury to just sit and eat and not have to ask a million questions. So. Good. Plus, through the ups and downs of finding a new home, Daryl and I have been together through it all (even on the side of the interstate!), and that has helped. We stumbled upon a really amazing resale shop and I got brand new jeans for super cheap. In a couple of long, crazy days, a pair of new jeans certainly doesn't hurt.

So, for you praying folks, pray that the other couple who saw the house we love (did I mention that we love it?!?) turn it down and that it can be ours. Oh please...

Apartment Hunting: Round 1

2010-06-25T08:07:00.001-04:00

Daryl and I are down in Nashville apartment hunting. It's been an eventful trip, to say the least.

First, it looked a lot like this:

Sorry to gross you out. It grossed ME out. No, we will not be renting an apartment from you when your MODEL UNIT has a GIANT POISONOUS SPIDER CRAWLING ACROSS THE KITCHEN FLOOR. Seriously, folks. Don't you spray that particular unit for pests like five times a day? Eesh. No THANK you.

Then, it looked a lot like this:

Yes, our car had a bit of a meltdown. On the Interstate. So we pulled over to figure out why it was shaking and smoking. And we stood and waited for Triple A for about an hour in the 99-degree heat. Yes, I am now sunburned.

Then we had the car fixed at a Goodyear with wonderfully nice southern dudes who fixed it in a couple of hours (turned out it needed new brakes and some part had come loose - hence the shaking and smoking). Our wonderful friend H brought us her car so we could continue the house hunt...

Luckily, from here the day began looking up.

It looked like this:

Hello cute wood floors and lots of sunlight! It also has a big yard and three (three!) bedrooms. And lots of storage. At this place we arrived before the landlord and the tenant (who is an incredible photographer) invited us in and gave us the scoop: It's a great place to live. This one is top of our list right now. It's a bit far away, so we're driving from it to my place of work this morning to see how long it takes. Pray for around half an hour or less...

Then it looked like this:

Why yes, that IS a piece of gf-tiramisu! We stopped by Fiddlecakes in Nashville and had a gf sandwich (a SANDWICH!) and tiramisu. Definitely made the broken down car seem less important. Sigh. So good. So, so good... I haven't had tiramisu in over a year.

After that, it looked like this:

Hello charming little kitchen! This place was adorable but very tiny... Like, almost studio-apartment-in-NYC tiny. But very adorable... So we're still thinking about it, to see if it's possible for us. It's also super close to school for Daryl. But did I mention that it's tiny?

On the list for today:

1. Our car not breaking down.
2. A townhome in West Nashville.
3. A 2-bedroom in Hillsboro.
4. Driving around Green Hills and Sylvan Park to see if there's anything cute up for rent.

I'll keep you posted...

Working Out

2010-06-10T21:48:00.001-04:00

I have not exercised regularly in three years. Count 'em. Sad, I know.

But now that we're up in Wisconsin for the next couple of months, it has become a million times easier to work out. And I am. Regularly. And I am achy and sore and more relaxed than I've been in years.

Why the change? For one, I have time (time! glorious time!). For another, my workouts now look like this:

I am so happy.

*Photo courtesy of: http://www.3eagletrail.com/trailpics.html

Apartment Hunting

2010-06-09T13:04:00.001-04:00

Daryl and I are in search of a new home. One that is not in New Jersey (woot!). One that is close both to his school and to the hospital where I'll be working.

I have an utter love/hate relationship with apartment/house hunting.

One the one hand, I love it. It's exciting to dream and explore, to decide what is most important to us for the next phase of life, to plan on making a home home. I get excited about how we'll arrange things, what spots the cats will find in which to snuggle up, what our view will look like.

One the other hand, it can be very discouraging. I found one apartment complex I loved (seemingly safe, affordable, close to what we need it to be close to, with nice floor plans) and then read some reviews.

"I loved living here, until the shooting."

Eep.

Others warn of brown recluse infestations. Um, excuse me? If I see one poisonous spider, we are moving OUT. Is that just an innocent northern thing to say? (Probably).

Another review of a hopeful place: "Live here if you love mold!"

Yuck.

As two-former (and one current) grad. students, we don't have an unlimited budget, which, of course, limits us from just plunking down our Black AmEx card at the Grand Hotel and asking for room service. We don't need anything fancy, just a place to call home. Preferably one where we can paint the walls and decorate it to look like home (and not like an institution, as our previous white-walled seminary apartment could look at times). I would also like to do laundry in my own apartment, not in a mold-infested basement as I have been doing for the past three years. When Daryl and I moved out in May most of the stuff in our basement storage unit was moldy and needed to be thrown in the trash. And I did my laundry down there for three years. SO gross. Though I may be willing to budge on having our own washer and dryer and just use a community laundry room if it is not infested with mold. Maybe.

One of the trickiest parts of this process is that we're up in Wisconsin right now, hanging with family, so we can't easily drive by and check places out. We're planning a foray down to Nash-Vegas in a couple of weeks to see places in person, though. That seems to be the only way to know for sure if a place is truly livable.

Top three things I want in an apartment or rental home?

1. Safety. I want to be able to walk from the car to the apartment at midnight without looking over my shoulder and/or running.
2. A guest room for friends.
3. No poisonous insects/spiders/pests. I don't mind the occasional bout of ants or ladybugs (I grew up in the woods!), but I draw the line at things that could actually make me, my dear husband, or one of my cats lose an appendage and/or die.

Daryl's top three:

1. Light. Lots and lots of light. (He's from California. He can't help himself.)
2. Something newer or cute and vintage.
3. Something affordable so that we can pay off loans/save some money.

Any other things we should put on at the top of our lists? Anyone have a beautiful, new, insect-free, place we should take a look at, or an apartment complex in Nashville that they've loved? Class? Class? Bueller?

Graduation

2010-06-07T12:00:00.000-04:00

In all the hubbub of final exams, traveling, and packing to move, I almost forgot what a momentous occasion this May was. I graduated! I guess that is kind of a big deal.

Princeton Seminary's graduation takes place in the University Chapel, which is beautiful and historic and almost British in feel. Daryl, my parents, and my grandparents were there to cheer me on, which meant a great deal. On Friday we packed and packed, and on Saturday I had an awards' breakfast and then a long walk up do get my diploma.

The breakfast:

The chapel, before and after:

The family:

Some of my favorite professors in the entire world (sadly, I couldn't catch a few of them after graduation, and some of them are on sabbatical and hence, weren't there):

The friends:

Company of New Pastors folk (a program for PCUSA ministers or ministers-in-training):

The guy who got me through it all, and sacrificed his first PhD acceptance in order to follow me to seminary:

I did it! Woo hoo!

New GF Blog

2010-06-07T00:24:00.002-04:00

Hello y'all.

I'm starting a new blog in order to keep the personal more personal (hello vacation photos!) and to separate all of my gf-related posts into their own blog. Autumn All Year will continue on as my personal blog. Gluten Free Jesus Freak is my new gf-and-Christian-related-stuff blog. Feel free to pass on the link to those you know who are living gf, especially those who are interested in how following Jesus and living gf can go together (yes, there are some solutions to the communion bread dilemma!).

The new blog: Gluten Free Jesus Freak.

(There's also a link on the right side of this blog under "Friends and Blogs I Like.")

For those of you who are not gf, now you won't have to wade through recipes and gf rants on a regular basis to get to the rest of the blogging. (I'm sure you've heard more than enough about my interactions with cranky waiters... No more for you! Hip hip hooray!)

Have no fear, Autumn All Year shall continue as usual. I'm having an extended summer break, so expect lots of updates on both!

Cheerio, friends!

Vay-Cay-Shun

2010-06-06T15:21:00.000-04:00

My parents took Daryl and I on a celebratory graduation and marriage reunion cruise to Mexico this May. After final exams and being apart for so, so, so long, this was the perfect present. Sleeping, eating, relaxing by the pool, reading novels, exploring Mexico - it rocked.

Because I have to eat GF, vacations can be stressful. Eating at a new non gf-savvy restaurant takes a lot of work. A LOT (inform the waiter of my issues, quiz him/her about the menu, ask again when the food arrives, and about half the time, get sick anyway...). Often it isn't restful or enjoyable at all, and I'll just sip a Coke while everyone else eats and then snack on my gf granola bars or bag of trail mix after dinner. Many areas have few (if any) restaurants that understand gluten free cooking or the dangers of cross-contamination. From a dietary standpoint, this cruise was amazing. I ordered my dinner the night before so that it could be made gf, and they cooked me special desserts on nights when everything else had gluten. Two words: strawberry pavlova. Oh. My. Goodness.

If you are a gf-er, THIS IS YOUR VACATION. Explain your food issues to your travel agent and call the cruise line in advance. Then tell your waiter and assistant waiter about your gf-status. Then sit back and eat. And eat. And eat. And feel normal like you haven't since your diagnosis. And be happy. Oh so happy.

For all other reasons (relaxing, vacationing, enjoying time together, and getting a little bit tan), it was also amazing. I had a ridiculously good time. Where else can you lie in the sun all day, get dressed up and eat a fancy dinner, and then see a show all without your wallet in hand? Our boat even had a climbing wall (which I beat Daryl up in a climbing race, I must tell you) and an ice skating rink. Ridiculous.

Parts of it were hilariously campy (i.e. the cruise director: "Are you having a good time? Are you? Huh? I can't hear you!" and the awful band by the main pool playing calypso music on a Casio keyboard...), parts were much classier than expected (who knew the ice skaters in the show would be able to do triple jumps?), and all of it was fun. Daryl had just as much fun as I did, enjoying a dodge ball tournament (crew vs. passengers!), lots of reading in the sun, and the unlimited frozen yogurt. He also found out early that there's no extra charge for additional dinner entrees. Enter steak and lobster and chicken night. Free room service for breakfast didn't hurt his affection for this vacation, either. Good thing he has a fast metabolism...

My parents (thank you!) were paying for this vay-cay (I need not remind you of our grad-student status), but even they kept commenting that it was an amazing value. The only way you can turn a cruise into a crazy-expensive time is to frequent either the bar or the casino regularly. Otherwise it is a seriously good deal. We can't wait to go on another one, and are already talking about what we want to save for in the future... Perhaps Alaska? Anyone want to come with us?

The Finish Line

2010-06-05T11:27:00.002-04:00

On May 3, I gave my final exams at Rider. On May 4, I graded them. On May 5, I flew to Nashville from Princeton for the final time. It was the final plane ride back to my husband after being away from him for the past nine months. It didn't come a moment too soon. I felt like I was limping in, like Dr. House after a long night on the hospital floor. Something like that.

Daryl met me at the airport with a huge hug. The last week of our long-distance marriage hadn't been too kind to him, either--in the middle of his final exams his computer crashed and he, the king of backing up files, had neglected to back up one particular paper that he then had to rewrite from scratch. Have you heard utter despair over the phone before? I sure did, the morning that paper got eaten... Poor boy. We practically collapsed into each other's arms in the terminal.

"This has been the hardest year of my life," I said. I'm prone to large amounts of exaggeration and apocryphal storytelling, but this was the utter truth. "This has been the hardest month of that year. And this has been the hardest week of that month."

He held me for a moment, rubbed my back in that wonderful lower-back region that makes me curl up like a happy cat, then said, "Let's go get breakfast." (Yet another thing I love about him: he understands that, while food doesn't solve problems, it does help take the edge off of them...)

So we did. There was no grand celebration yet. No fireworks or large, extravagant gifts given to one another in honor of the occasion (hey, we're grad students...). There was no award from the Mayor of Marriages in honor of our survival. There was just him and me and the knowledge that we never, EVER had to do this again. We ate a leisurely breakfast of fruit and juice and then got down to the next business: packing.

We had a deadline in SoCal. My parents (thank you, thank you, thank you!), knowing how tired we would be at the end of this season, booked a cruise vacation for the four of us leaving from Los Angeles on May 9. We needed to return my friend's car to her in Monterey, CA. So after breakfast we hurriedly packed up Daryl's life from the last year in order to began the 42-hour drive from Nashville to Los Angeles via Monterey.

Daryl is, shall we say, a contemplative packer. He muses about where each item should go, thinks about each book or piece of clothing, and generally drives me (and eventually himself) crazy. So he ran the errands and I did the packing. I am speedy-packer-girl. I also have no problem throwing things - this pair of tennis shoes from high school, a shirt with holes in it, a book with serious water damage - away. That helps. So I packed. And packed. And packed and packed and packed. And we headed off for our first night's hotel (St. Louis, about 6 hours away) around 6:30pm. Ah well, it was a start.

It seemed fitting somehow to end this marathon of a season with a long drive across the country. We've done more of these than most people in the past five years of dating and marriage. Daryl dropped me off at my magazine internship in Colorado right after our undergraduate graduation. We drove to Princeton to move in. We drove to Los Angeles and back for a summer internship. And this season we ended our long separation by driving to California to see a dear friend and then get on a cruise boat. It's pretty easy to do that much driving if you know food, sun, and a pool lounge chair await you. And if you're just so overjoyed at the presence of the man you love that you'd happily drive forever if it meant it was just you and him and nothing more.

Speaking of road trips: I never know what to post on Facebook or not. I like to share what I'm up to, but sometimes it gets me in trouble. People find out I've been in town and feel hurt I didn't call or visit, even though I was only there for a day (or a few hours!). I thank people in a status only to forget one or two important ones (hurt feelings! so bad!). I overshare without meaning to, or update when I'm in a grumpy mood and sound too harsh and unpastoral. They're' tricky nowadays, these Internets.

Anyway, on our drive across the country I updated where we were every night, to keep people (including my parents) posted on our driving progress and because it's fun to update Facebook from cities across the country. Also, hooray! I wasn't in New Jersey anymore!

Because my family of friends (my fremly, as my sister Caroline calls her own) is so dear, thoughtful, and wonderful, almost everywhere I stopped I had people commenting and asking why we didn't stay with them/their family. For free! They'd feed us! Why not?

Kind gestures, to be sure, but hey: I had just lived apart from my husband for nine months. We were getting a hotel room, gosh darn it. 'Nuff said.

And so we drove. And drove and drove.

We saw this (yes, at night - no, not with the cool moon shining through it):

And lots and lots (too much!) of this:

And this strange addition to the Utah salt flats:

Daryl and his friends Chris and Steven have a special name for this piece of art, but it isn't particularly blog-appropriate. You can ask any of them yourself, if you want.

But mostly, I saw this:

Boy, was it a sight for sore eyes...

Gratitude

2010-06-01T11:11:00.000-04:00

I'm back! As promised! Welcome to June, friends.

I have lots of updates to... update. Taking finals, vacation, moving, driving across the country, graduation, saying goodbye, starting a new chapter of life, leaving NJ (!), moving back in with my husband permanently, heading to Wisconsin for the summer. Before I get into all that (which I will, soon!), I wanted to begin with what has been at the forefront of my mind for the past month: gratitude.

This has been a crazy-difficult season of life. From being apart from Daryl to finishing my degree in Princeton to working to moving, Daryl and I have both been quite exhausted. During our most recent long drive (24 hours from Princeton to Eagle River, WI), we talked about what has gotten us through this season. People. Our dear, dear family and friends who have sacrificed, loved on us, cared for us, and blessed us. Without them, we would have probably fallen to pieces at some juncture along this long, long road. What am I grateful for at the end of this month of May?

1. A family who loves me and often knows what Daryl and I need before we ask. My parents took us on the most restful vacation of my life (a cruise! to Mexico! with special gf food!), and then came back to Princeton where my Dad and Daryl proceeded to carry every heavy thing from our apartment into the moving POD. And then they filled up our fridge. And then they let us come to WI for a couple of months to have a real summer of lake-swimming, grilling out, and craft projects. Does life get better? I submit that it does not!

2. Friends who sheltered Daryl for the past nine months. How do you thank people who you'd never even met before this August who invite your husband into their home for the year? And cook him dinner when he's losing his mind during final exams? And become dear friends? You can't... There's no language of thanks big enough for that.

3. A friend who loaned us her car for the year. Her fun, practical, cool, sunroof-equipped car. We didn't have to buy or rent a second car (read: crazy expensive for cash-strapped graduate students!). Again, how do you begin to thank someone for this?

4. Friends from Princeton. Saying goodbye was hard. These friends have brought us food and smoothies, provided incredible and insightful conversation partners, challenged us to live out our faith, and helped us with the little finishing touches of moving (Daryl carried out our last three heavy pieces of furniture assisted by three different friends, all of whom dropped everything the moment they heard we needed a bit of heavy lifting help).

5. Friends from home. It feels so good to be headed toward a summer surrounded by friends (and family!) from home. We never have enough time to visit, catch up, celebrate, and hang out. And perhaps this summer we will. Or at least, we'll have a little bit more.

6. Friends and family from CA. When we were in town we stayed with some dear, dear friends and their cute little chinchilla, Rudy. We made it to the Mother's Day celebration brunch for Daryl's dear grandma and saw almost all of the rest of his family. We had a great dinner with his mom. We visited some other dear friends, even though we were only in town for a short while. We went to Disneyland for free. You really can't beat that.

6. The little things. My final trip to the dentist in NY yielded no cavities. (If you know me well you know that's actually more of a BIG thing than a little thing). Disneyland makes gluten-free EVERYTHING for the same price as the normal stuff. I won an unexpected award at Princeton that led to a surprising check from the seminary that helped us a great deal with our move. I finally got around to getting a Princeton Public Library card and loaded up with books on tape for our long drive. Iron Man 2 was better than expected. The cats stayed healthy. There happened to be a yard sale the same day I realized we had left my old bike out of our POD (and the POD was picked up!), so I sold it for $30 in less than an hour. The little things have been so wonderful.

7. Our great God. I've said this before, but in one of her books Anne Lamott comments that her two most often-used prayers are "Help me, help me, help me" and "Thank you, thank you, thank you." I have said both of these many, many, MANY times in the past month. And Jesus is always there. And when I don't have an ounce left of strength, he provides. And when I'm at the end of my rope, he helps me hang on. And when finals threaten to make me go crazy or the distance from Daryl threatened to make me fall apart, he cared for me. The toughest seasons are often the ones of closest fellowship with the Father, and I've felt that this season. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

More to come (including LOTS of photos)! Thanks for your patience with me this May. There is lots of blogging to come this summer.

Happy June 1. Happy summer. Happy end to a season of running, running, running. As I write this the breeze off of Yellow Birch Lake is coming in my window, ruffling my hair. The cats are sitting on the window ledge watching the trees. Daryl is upstairs eating cereal and I am just about to head to breakfast. It's 10am.

Summer rocks.

Sabbatical

2010-05-02T17:47:00.001-04:00

I hate it when blogs go dormant with no warning. Those I read I read regularly, and when I am greeted by the same post for weeks on end I get a bit annoyed. Where are the posts I go there to read? Where is the love, friends?

So I'm informing you all of my brief sabbatical. For the month of May, Autumn All Year will be dormant. This is for about a dozen reasons:

As of now I am less than 48 hours (less than 2 DAYS!!!) away from a permanent reunion with Daryl. I cannot WAIT. We have a lot of catching up/snuggling/laughing/hugging/kissing/talking/sharing/brainstorming to do.

Following that, Daryl and I will be driving across the country to return the car we borrowed from a dear friend. She's currently residing in Monterey, California. A 39-hour drive. I have lots of books on tape. Woot.

Following that, we'll head out on a week-long vacation with my parents (thanks, Mom and Dad!). We will do nothing but eat, sleep, and lie in the sun, recharging our ba'tries.

Following that, we'll return to Princeton where I will 1) graduate, 2) pack up our apartment, 3) drive back across the country to Wisconsin with two cats in the backseat. A 28-hour drive. Double woot. I'm sure I'll have some stories about that one...

In between all of these things I have to turn in my final grades at Rider, send a slew of thank-you notes, clean up this apartment, pack, find boxes, pack some more, say goodbye to some incredible, incredible friends, and drive a whole heckuvalot. I am exhausted from a long year (see previous posts...) and just doing my best to put one foot in front of the other. It has been a long, hard year. It's ending, and I've made it, but just barely.

So rather than leave sporadic, unthinking posts whenever I make it near a computer, which won't be often, I've decided instead to sign off for the month of May.

I'll see you all the first week of June. Sooner, if I can. Take care of the blogosphere. I'll miss it, and you.

Cheerio, friends.

P.S. In the meantime, if you're new, these posts help explain why it's been a long year and what it's been like to live in (and survive!) a long-distance marriage: Long Distance introduction and parts 1, 2, 3, and 4.

Countdown to Leaving Seminary... Top Ten Favorite Memories: 5

2010-04-29T23:27:00.001-04:00

6. Final exam weeks.

Final exams are crazy. I've written 80 pages in six days. I've written a 20-page paper and then immediately scrapped it and started over because I knew it wasn't any good. I've had at least one season of final exams where I had very little to do and ended up watching three entire seasons of America's Next Top Model on YouTube so that I could stay awake and keep Daryl company as he slaved away (sigh... I know, I know). I've gone back and forth between studies of Bonhoeffer, Alzheimer's disease, Ephesians, and Brecht in the same 24-hour period. I've somehow (somehow!) managed to stay sane thanks to Jesus, Daryl, and lots of caffeine (in that order).

Finals make for great memories because they are ridiculous. All of us students do the impossible, surprise ourselves, drive ourselves nutty, and sometimes even learn something along the way.

This finals season I had 70+ pages to write in a week. It would have been 70+ pages to write in two weeks, but I had to fly to Nashville for an interview (yay!). My good friend Katie (who had six pages to write - I tried very hard not to hate her for this reason...) came over to work most nights. It was great to have someone around, to take short breaks, to eat bowls of cereal together.

I'll miss the ridiculous things that happen during finals week - things that, if it were not finals week, would make us all seem pathological, neurotic, or just plain bizarre.

I have one friend who wears the same clothes every day until she finishes a paper. It helps her feel like it's just one long day and not days and days of her life she's devoting to the paper.

Daryl chooses a place to work and will work only there for four or five or six days, and then changes abruptly and cannot stand working there anymore. This season it was Panera every day, and now he can't stand to go back and has found a new spot.

When I was a student at Loyola I instituted the "butt-in-the-chair" policy. After managing to procrastinate with everything under the sun (I should match up those pairless socks! I should clean behind the fridge! I should Christmas shop in May!) I sat myself in a chair in front of my computer and would let myself up for only three things: bathroom, 3 daily meals, and bedtime. Of course, I now know that this is how people get blood clots and die. But at the time, it worked wonders for my grades.

Now I do puzzles during finals. Puzzle after puzzle. I'll work for an hour or two, then spend fifteen minutes on a puzzle. It helps my mind to relax while I can still mull over my paper. I probably did ten puzzles during finals week this year. Doing them puts me into that same relaxed state-of-mind that happens in the shower or before sleep. It helps me come up with great ideas and realize which old ones don't work with the argument of my paper. Daryl's dad has a great explanation for the different type of brainwaves that we have and what this type of thought is called, but I don't remember what it is right now... that's what happens after finals!

As a student, finals is like the Olympics. Have you prepared well? Will you choke? Will you fall apart at the seams? How is your equipment? Will your computer die? Will that big jug of Mountain Dew help or hurt? How much sleep does a human being actually need?

When I was in undergrad a friend and I went to this ridiculous all-night diner on the way to Chicago and drank bad smoothies and wrote and wrote and wrote. When I studied at Loyola I wrote papers with Eliot, my new kitten, in a room overlooking Addison Street and Wrigley Field. I ate handfuls of Oreos and Thai takeout. I hardly slept. I read thousands of pages.

Perhaps the best part about final exams is that they end. Then all students go to sleep. The first restful sleep in weeks - nothing is due, nothing is late, nothing else can go wrong. It is done. We sleep and sleep.

The first thing I always do after that sleep is go to the grocery store and take my time choosing each item. I eat terribly during finals, and my brain is so full and strained it almost feels bruised, so it's a joy to focus on something as simple as food. The week after finals I indulge myself. I get the good mozzarella, the pricey-but-amazing orange juice. I read labels and squeeze melons. I meander through the store knowing that, after a grueling week or two and a long semester, I have nothing else to do. I begin the slow stepping-down off of too much caffeine.

I was a little sad to turn in my final final paper this year. For all I know, I'm done being a student. This could be my last paper... ever. I'll miss the craziness of finals, the Herculean effort it takes to get up early and stay up late for days on end while expending crazy amounts of brain energy. I'll miss the accomplishment of finally emailing off a paper, or watching it print. I'll miss the sense of accomplishment. I'll miss the camaraderie that occurs when every student is in the same boat, struggling to stay afloat on a sea of papers and exams. The student life is a good one indeed - even during finals.

Image borrowed from here.

Thankful

2010-04-29T22:37:00.002-04:00

My friend Nish is a great blogger who does a "Thankful on a Thursday" post each week. I'm not great about doing the same type of post every week (see my attempts at Tuesday Recipes and Sunday Poems for examples of that...), but I want to post my thanks this week.

A wonderful, wonderful professor of mine (Dr. Shane Berg - if you're ever a PTS student, take every class you can with him!) is fond of talking about the cycle between thanksgiving and blessing. When we are thankful for others and express that thanks, they are blessed. When we practice gratitude, we are blessed. When we remember our blessings, we become thankful.

I can be a complainer sometimes. Occasionally I have real things to complain about (my cat was dying! my husband is a thousand miles away! the current job market = abysmal!). More often than not my complaining comes from a lack of expressing gratitude and thankfulness in the things I have, both big things and small. It isn't that I am not thankful, it's that it's easier to grouse than to praise, easier to gripe than to thank. I want to change this, expressing the gratitude that is in my heart more regularly. Hence, today's post.

I'm fighting off some significant weariness right now. It has been a long, hard year, and it will take awhile for the core tiredness to fade. I'm a good finisher. I can always finish and finish fairly strong. Once on a drive across the country, Daryl was fading. He's usually the workhorse when we drive; he can drive for hours and hours with nothing but a Mountain Dew and some hard rock on the radio. I can drive for three hours or so, and then I fade. But it was two in the morning in the middle of Nebraska, and he was beat. I got behind the wheel, steeled myself for a long haul, and brought us to the hotel safe and sound in the early hours of the morning. When we pulled up I drove the car under the hotel awning, laid my head on the steering wheel, told Daryl we were there, and promptly fell asleep. This is how I feel at the close of this long, hard, marathon of a year. I'm in. And now I'm exhausted.

This exhaustion, this realization of all I've been through and all that God has brought me through this year makes me even more thankful. I couldn't have done this on my own strength. I've leaned on the Lord. I've leaned on others. I've asked for help when I've needed it, and help has come. And I'm thankful.

I'm thankful for professors who have helped me develop my theology, shared their lives with me, and taught me more than they'll ever know. Thank you, Drs. Berg, Osmer, Brown, Seow, McCormack, Hutton, Duff, Charry, Lee, Lapsley, Appold, Rorem, and Capps. Thank you for teaching me practical theology, ethics, systematics, Greek, Hebrew, church history, homiletics, and the importance of nurturing my personal faith. Thank you for pouring your lives into your students, for laughing with us, for giving us your time and energy, and for working so very hard.

I'm thankful for friends. I won't list because then I'll forget some, but I'm so thankful for friends this year. Friends from seminary, new and old. Friends from home. Family friends.

I'm thankful for family. Family who understands me, supports me, and always welcomes me with open arms, no matter how grumpy, exhausted, or bedraggled I may be.

I'm thankful for two snuggly cats. Some cats don't show affection; mine are snuggly, snuggly cats. They climb on my lap and purr and purr. Not much makes me feel that appreciated.

I'm thankful for the end of this season.

I'm thankful that I'm heading toward a (much-needed!) vacation.

I'm thankful for the abundance of gluten-free foods out there these days. I had pretzels with my lunch. Pretzels! And they were amazing.

I'm thankful for the Princeton Public library. I walked out of there with eight new novels (I'm going on vacation! Woo hoo!) and three books on tape. Daryl and I get to drive across the country listening to Bill Bryson. I always feel like the richest person on earth when I leave a library. I get all of these!? For free!? Are you sure?

When my parents first took me trick-or-treating as a three year old, they told me that if I knocked on a door and said "trick or treat" the person living there would give me candy. I thought they were crazy and wouldn't do it. So my dad picked me up, knocked on that first door, and... I got candy! I looked down into my bucket, my eyes wide, paused for a second or two, then took off sprinting toward the next house. I had discovered the greatest scam on earth! That's how I feel about the library. What a great country we live in! Free candy AND free books! My two favorite things!

I'm thankful for friends' blogs that encourage me and others.

I'm thankful for the weather during final exams. Cool and breezy - perfect in an un-airconditioned apartment during a tough academic time.

I'm thankful for fresh raspberries in the fridge.

I'm thankful for final meetings with Princeton folk--professors, friends, colleagues.

I'm thankful for a successful class at Rider and a great group of students. I'm thankful for the provision of that job, and all I've learned from teaching through the years.

I'm thankful for the incredible generosity of friends who have housed Daryl and a friend who loaned us her car for the year.

I'm thankful for how their generosity has taught me to be more generous with what I have.

I'm thankful for laughter. Laughing with friends, funny movies, funny books, and times where I just have to laugh at myself.

I'm thankful for a God who never leaves, never forsakes, and never abandons. I'm thankful for a God whose promises are new every morning. I'm thankful for a God who has confirmed time and time again that Daryl and I are on the right path this year. I'm thankful for a God who is real and alive.

Mostly I'm just thankful.

What are you thankful for today?

My Life After Finals

2010-04-27T15:23:00.000-04:00

Awake after noon.

Wonder why I'm so very tired.

Eat something. Usually GF chocolate chip pancakes. Sometimes fruit. Sometimes eggs.

Consider showering. Watch a little TV instead.

Wonder why I'm so ridiculously tired.

Chronicle a list of things I've done this year in my head (this is Mom's version, as posted on my Facebook): "You successfully juggled several jobs, teaching, traveling out of town on weekends, airline trauma, snowstorm closings, a husband living in another state, all household responsibilities, traveling to presbytery meetings in Chicago, a car with a dead battery twice in one day, a kitty on the brink of death, canceling your only vacation with your husband at Thanksgiving and planned for a year, assistant play directing, a lead role in that play, cooking/eating a special GF diet and these are only the things I can think of. Yes, a long post....but a longer year and I think congratulations are in order. Well done Courtney. And I would like to add, don't ever do it again. Love, mom"

Ah, that's why I'm tired. I love my mom.

Look out the window at the sun in the big oak in our front yard. Pet the cats.

Pray.

Pray for the Lord to provide a pastoral call for me in Nashville. Pray for rejuvenation of spirit at the end of a long year. Pray for Daryl who is still in the midst of a rough season of finals. Pray for my seminary friends who are also searching, searching, searching for calls and jobs.

Finally shower.

Send some emails.

Grade some student papers.

Miss Daryl.

Drive to Lawrenceville and teach at Rider U. Lecture. Answer questions. Laugh with my students.

Run errands.

Have some follow-up meeting with professors. Tear up a little when I say goodbye to those wonderful professors.

Come home.

Miss Daryl.

Remember that I will see Daryl very, very soon. For good. For real.

Remember God's faithfulness in the midst of a crazy season.

Thank God for this faithfulness, for a long year that is drawing to a close, for helping me to learn and grow. For getting me through it all.

Still feel tired, but better.

Countdown to Leaving Seminary... Top Ten Favorite Memories: 4

2010-04-23T19:30:00.000-04:00

7. Trips to New York City.

I hate New York City. I really do. It's loud and expensive, and though it's only about an hour away, by the time I get there I'm always tired and nearly ready to go home. That doesn't make me sound very cool, I know. The truth is that I'm not, nor will I ever be, cool. So if you were thinking you were reading a cool person's blog, you should probably go elsewhere. Like to Unhappy Hipsters dot com.

Regardless of my inherent dislike for the city of yellow cabs, I've had some very memorable and hilarious experiences in NYC. For example:

The time my sister Caitlyn and I got stuck on a broken subway and then hopelessly lost, after which we speed-walked through Chinatown at dusk and ended up in a really creepy neighbrorhood. One of the highlights of this visit was the crusty old man we passed on our fast walk who was standing at the doorway of a dimly lit alley "store" with a handpainted sign reading "STUFF." When we hurried past him he started cursing loudly at us for not wanting to check out the merchandise. Eep.

The time I was riding the subway with my parents and telling them about this Mariachi band I encountered on the subway months earlier, and just as I mentioned it the SAME Mariachi band came into our subway car (I recognized the lead dude's crazy mustache). What are the odds?

The time Cait and I ran into Jude Law and she chased him down the sidewalk in her sundress and Chacos while holding a leaky jar of pesto sauce from the farmer's market in a bag she sweet-talked out of a lady who worked at the Body Shop.

The time I stumbled into the MTV music video awards and got some eye rolls from scantily clad teenage girls when I asked what was going on. See? I told you I wasn't cool.

The time Daryl and I walked with our friend Steven through Central Park right before Steven flew overseas to start his new job in Indonesia. We talked about giving up everything to follow the call of God to seminary or Indonesia. Then I ate a snow cone.

The time I went to NYC with my mom, Daryl, and my sister Caroline and it was so utterly freezing cold that we had to snuggle together at every possible opportunity.

The time my friend Katie talked me into seeing a Broadway show because hey, we're so close to NYC and we're both graduating, and even though neither one of us can really afford it, sometimes you just have to do these things. This last one is happening on Sunday. Yay!

Ah, NYC. I say I don't like you, but clearly I do... at least a little.

Countdown to Leaving Seminary... Top Ten Favorite Memories: 3

2010-04-23T11:31:00.000-04:00

8. The Christmas tree.

Our first year of seminary, Daryl and I decided not to decorate for Christmas. It was our first married Christmas, so we didn't have any decorations yet, much less any money to buy any. We were madly writing papers (and this was before Princeton changed its curriculum so that finals were before Christmas!), Daryl was taking an overload of credits, I was teaching two classes, and we were just too busy. Besides, we would be leaving on December 21 to travel home to Wisconsin, where we'd visit my family who would have decorated the house like crazy.

After we had mutually decided this, I was inwardly really sad. We didn't have the money for a tree or decorations, really, and it was the wise decision, but I LOVE Christmas. I listen to Christmas music year-round, I love it so much. Still, I was determined to keep a stiff upper lip and not let on that I was sad. After all, we were on a budget. We really didn't have time. Seminary meant sacrifice, and I could do without ornaments or wreaths for a year or two (or three).

One night, a week or so later, Daryl went out to buy groceries. About half an hour later, there was a knock at the door. Odd, since I wasn't expecting anyone. I went to the door and found Daryl, who asked, "Can you help me with this?"

Behind him was an enormous, six-foot tall Christmas tree.

I've hardly ever felt so loved.

Countdown to Leaving Seminary... Top Ten Favorite Memories: 2

2010-04-22T23:24:00.000-04:00

9. President Torrance asking me if I'm a professional actor.

To his (great) credit, President Torrance always comes to see the spring play. I'll admit I got a touch more nervous when I saw him sitting there in the top row of the Friday night show.

After the performance he came up to congratulate the actors, shook my hand, and asked, quite kindly, in his softspoken Scottish way, "Are you a professional, then?"

Ahahaha... No. But thanks for asking - you made my night!

Countdown to Leaving Seminary... Top Ten Favorite Memories: 1

2010-04-21T17:00:00.000-04:00

Because I leave seminary in just a few short weeks (!), I've been thinking about my time here, about what I've learned, what I've loved, and what I've experienced. For the next ten days I'm going to post a memory a day from my time at PTS.

In no particular order, we begin...

10. Moving in.
Daryl and his two wonderful, dear friends Steven and Chris loaded up our Penske truck in Wheaton, Illinois, and drove across the country (I had come out early to start work and was already in Princeton living with an air mattress, a cat, and a folding chair. It was cheery). We had NO idea how much work it would be to move, and though we didn’t have much stuff, our truck was filled to the brim with furniture and boxes. It was August in Princeton, and it was at least ninety degrees out. Chris, Daryl, and I went to sleep that night in our empty apartment weary already at the prospect of unloading it all the next morning (Steven had to fly back early).

When we awoke and began to unload, we were met with half a dozen Wheaton alums (and a few spouses) who had heard of our plight and had come to help. Peter, Travis, James, Nicole, and Matt dropped everything to get hot and sweaty carrying our boxes. Our stuff. Peter’s wife Megan was ill and couldn’t come, but sent cookies.

Moving in took only an hour, and when we were done we ate popcicles and talked about the year to come. I couldn’t believe these people—some of whom I had never even met—had given their mornings to us.

Found on a Bethel University professor's office door:

2010-04-21T11:15:00.000-04:00

My mom found this.

I had to share.

Reflections as I Plan to Live (Once Again) With My Husband: Part 4

2010-04-20T09:48:00.002-04:00

You probably wouldn't expect that there would be a great deal of joy in spending nine months apart from the person you love most in the world. I certainly didn't.

But God surprises, sometimes.

When I flew home to Princeton after helping Daryl settle in to his new Nashvillian digs, I spent a couple hours crying. Then I spent a few thinking of how badly this was going to stink. Then I watched some television. It didn't help. Then I ate some ice cream. That didn't help either. Then I went to bed. When I woke up in the morning there was nothing left to do but pick myself up out of bed with a sigh and go to work. I tried not to notice the empty bookshelf. I shut the door to Daryl's side of the closet that was now empty. Ordinary life went on, even when the one I loved was a thousand miles away.

The joy in this year has constantly surprised me. It's been deep and incredible. It's been welcome and unexpected. It's been a sure companion, even amidst the pain of separation. A line from Marilynne Robinson's Gilead has stuck with me this year. I've quoted this novel in a previous post, but it is so apt I have to do it again. Her main character, John, is reflecting upon the death of his first wife and the decades between her death and his unexpected marriage to a new love:

"I do not remember grief and loneliness so much as I do peace and comfort--grief, but never without comfort; loneliness, but never without peace. Almost never."

There were times where I felt lonely without peace, but almost never. The missing ached, but there was still life in the living.

So, with joy, I'll end this series of reflections with nine joys I've experienced in the past nine months of living apart--far, far apart--from my dear husband. There were many, many more.

1. Reunions.
These were the best. Whether it'd been only two weeks or nearly a month, running into Daryl's arms in a Nashville or Philly (or Chicago or Denver, once) airport was amazing. We always tried to do our schoolwork ahead of time so that when we were reunited we would have two or three days together to just reconnect. We'd take walks, sleep in on Saturdays, go to church, cook leisurely dinners. After talking on the phone for weeks we were often talked out. We just wanted to be in the same room together, to tease the cats, to laugh, to hug. Each visit reconfirmed that our falling in love had been no accident.

Daryl developed a love for sneaking up behind me in airports and grabbing me in a big bear hug from behind. He's lucky my self-defense training is a little rusty, or he might have gotten an elbow to the stomach before I caught on...

2. Identity.
Prior to getting married in 2007 I understood myself pretty well as a single person. After getting married I learned to understand myself as a married person. Now I feel that I've begun to learn how to bridge these two worlds--to be independent but still part of a unit, to explore my interests but still care for my spouse. In my first couple years of marriage I had stopped doing various things I previously enjoyed (blogging being one of these) for lack of time and because learning to be married took time and energy.

I've recaptured something of myself this year. I've remembered who I am apart from "Courtney-and-Daryl." Now I look forward to remembering who I am within "Courtney-and-Daryl" in the coming months, and bringing the two together. I am both, and I love both.

3. Time.
Before I got married I hated the cliché that single people have "more time." "I'm a busy person!" I would say. "I don't have more time! I have little time! And it's precious time! So stop trying to get me to lead the youth group retreat/Bible study/school project because I'm the single one, okay?"

Well, it's true. Even though I've been working two part-time jobs while going to school this year, I find that I have a lot more time to devote to other things and people when I'm on my own. I've developed some wonderful friendships that I may not have had the opportunity to without these months on my own. I participated in the spring play and volunteered for some night on-call shifts at the hospital in Summit. I've read more, including more of my Bible. I've also watched more television than usual, but that wasn't a joy, it was a coping mechanism...

4. Being alone.
At my friend Bethany's wedding shower a couple of years ago, we were all asked to write down something she would gain and something she would lose when she got married. Her (hilarious) friend Alisha wrote: "You're losing the ability to ever sleep in a bed alone without people worrying about your marriage unless you're sick or in the hospital."

I didn't realize until this year on my own how much I really do enjoy being alone sometimes. During my first year of teaching I would come home plain talked-out. Daryl, who had spent his day working quietly in his cubicle, would be bubbling over with conversation. I simply wanted to eat dinner and not talk. On my own, I do lots of not talking. I've learned to embrace silence. Rather than racing to turn on music or the television when I get home, I love listening to the quiet for a little bit. The click of the cats' nails on the floor, the hum of the refrigerator, the thump-thump of a basketball near the hoops in my backyard. It is not, mostly, good to be alone. But sometimes, some hours of some days, it is.

5. Meeting Jesus in unexpected ways.
Back in mid-February I was sick. Sore throat, stuffy nose sick. No, it wasn't H1N1, but it was pretty miserable. I felt really alone. I had to drag myself to Whole Foods for Kleenex and cough drops and heat up my own chicken broth. When I'm sick I like to be fawned over. "What do you need? Oh... you poor dear." I love that stuff. But alas, I was alone, and Daryl could do little but empathize over the phone.

Enter my friend Brandi. She heard I was sick and knocked on the door with homemade soup and a warm loaf of gluten-free bread. "I heard you were sick," she said. "Is there anything else you need?" There were tears in my eyes as I hugged her goodbye. She had baked me bread.

There have been moments this year when I've been at the end of my rope. Sick, exhausted, or just lonely. And just when I've been at my lowest, Jesus has met me. Sometimes through his words in Scripture or in poetry. Sometimes in the soft fur of one of the cats (both of whom have a knack for knowing when something has made me sad). Often through people. I have been so incredibly blessed by the outpourings of love from friends and family. My sister Caitlyn visited me in September, and my parents have trekked out to Jersey twice (with a third visit just around the corner for graduation). Friends have schlepped me to and from the airport dozens of times without complaint. Friends have taken care of my cats when I've been away to see Daryl. Just tonight my friend Katie came over to study and brought strawberry-mango smoothie ingredients and a hug. "I read your blog," she said. "You said you needed hugs. So here is one." A few weeks ago my friend Inga made a trip down to see me for less than 24 hours when she returned from Iraq, just so we could have dinner together.

This is my Inga. She rocks.

6. This Tremendous Accomplishment.
I ran the Chicago marathon in 2002. To this day I'm not quite sure why I did it. I'm not really a runner or an adrenaline junkie, and I never did experience anything amounting to a "runner's high" (though I got plenty of "runner's side-stitch" and "runner's leg cramps"). I think the reason I did it was so that other things would seem easier. I would always have it to go back to for reassurance. "Of course I can write this paper! I ran a marathon!" "Certainly I can get through graduate school! I ran a marathon!" At the age of twenty, it helped me define myself as a strong person, someone able to persevere even when things were tough.

This is already how I think of this year in our marriage. If we did this, surely we can do anything. The same skills that helped us through a year of long-distance marriage--relying on the Lord, communicating well, making each other a priority--I hope will translate into the rest of our married life. And when we hit rough patches (as even the best marriages do), we will have this to hold onto and remember.

7. Moving on.
There is great joy in taking a new step. In a month I will be graduating. In a week my final papers will (Lord willing) be just a memory. Watching Daryl start his new PhD program and love it, moving toward my own graduation, and planning our new life in Nashville has been a joy. In many ways this is the first place we've chosen to live together, our first real grown-up place. When we were first married we lived in Chicago because that's where we had gone to school and that's where we had found our first jobs. After that we moved to Jersey because Princeton was the only seminary we wanted to attend.

Moving to Tennessee has been our first real grown-up "us" choice. We had the choice to stay in Jersey or, possibly, move to Chicago. We had the choice to say no to a PhD and move anywhere in the world. So we prayed--together and separately. We sought the Lord's heart and our own. And with a bit of trepidation (we've never been southerners! we don't know anyone in Tennessee!), we chose Nashville and Vanderbilt. It was exciting to make the decision together, and it's been exciting to begin seeing it through. An adventure. Together.

8. Surprises
One of the things you lose after marriage is the ability to easily surprise the one you love. When you're living together and sharing a bank account, you have to be very crafty to create a surprise. Last year, a few weeks before Daryl's birthday, I told him not to check our bank statements. He does this pretty religiously to check our budget and guard against identity theft. Anyway, he remembered not to check it for about three days. Then he checked it. He came to me sheepishly, admitting that he now knew I'd been to Kenneth Cole... Grrr...

I love surprises. Love them, love them, love them. And it's been easier to create them (and to receive them!) being so far away. Just last weekend Daryl surprised me by taking me to the gluten-free bakery in Nashville. I still don't know Nashville very well, so by the time I realized we were on the other end of town--not headed home, as he had told me we were--we were practically at the bakery.

For Christmas I was able to plan a visit to a Laker's game in April. I was on the phone with my dad four or five times asking him questions about tickets (where should we sit? how far away was too far? is mid-court better than end-court?) while sitting in the living room - something I certainly could not have done with Daryl hanging around.

Sometimes we surprise each other with love notes in the mail. Corny, I know, but I love those notes (ha! pun!) and have saved every single one.

9. The Pain of this Year.
How is pain a joy, you may ask? For this simple reason: it hurt to be away from Daryl. Sometimes to the point where it felt like actual physical pain. And each time it hurt, each time I hung up the phone with him and fell asleep alone, I was reminded of how blessed I am to have him. The missing has been painful, but it's been infinitely sweet as well. We have each other to miss. We've been faithful to one another in the missing. And with each painful day we came a day closer to being done.

I haven't had a baby yet, but people have told me that the only things that help you through the pain are knowing that the pain has an end, and knowing that you get a baby when you're done. There is no way around it - you must go through. And there is tremendous joy and accomplishment in getting through. You've done it. It's over. And now you can go home with your dear little one.

That's where I am today. We've nearly done it. It's nearly over. And in seventeen days, I can go home with my dear one. Seventeen days. Hallelujah.

Sunday poems - "Let Evening Come"

2010-04-18T23:24:00.003-04:00

I haven't kept up with my Sunday poems, but I'm determined to do better. I love running across a new poem or poet.

I fell in love with this poet my first year of seminary. I took a class with Dr. Donald Capps called "Poetry and the Care of Souls," about the place of poetry in pastoral care. It was incredible, and there I fell in love with several poets who were new to me - Billy Collins, Donald Hall, and Louise Gluck, to name just a few. A poet who Daryl and I both immediately fell in love with in that class was Jane Kenyon. In fact, we named our second kitty after her (though the kitty's a boy) because we've started a habit of naming our cats after poets. Cats are quite poetical animals, if you think about it.

Jane Kenyon's poetry is simple and beautiful, full of images of nature and ordinary life. She struggled with depression throughout her life, so I'm reconnecting with her poetry as I write my final paper for my second class with Dr. Capps - "Ministry and Mental Illness." It seems right, somehow, to begin and end my time in seminary with such a wonderful professor and with such a wonderful poet.

This is the poem I'm citing in the final paper I'm writing on pastoral care and Alzheimer's disease. It comes back to me when I'm at the end of something - an internship, a summer, a graduate school program. In times of transition, even if that transition is hard sad, God does not leave us.

"Let Evening Come"

by Jane Kenyon

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don't
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.

Reflections as I Plan to Live (Once Again) with my Husband: Part 3

2010-04-17T22:19:00.000-04:00

This was us in August, saying goodbye.

The difficulties. Ah, the difficulties.

I'm not in the mood to whine and rant (and, really, that's not all that Christian when it comes right down to it). It has been a difficult year, yes. But I'm not going to write a long post about how hard and miserable it's been to be apart. Those who have done it know that it is both hard and miserable at times. Those who haven't had to do it I hope never will.

What I am going to share are a few short examples of moments when we both realized how much we need and value each other, and how much easier life is when we're together.

Thus: Part III - the difficulties of spending nine months apart from my husband.

1. The car battery incident.
I had forgotten what it was like to not have someone you could depend on to drop everything and help out at a moment's notice. There have been rare occasions when Daryl and I have pulled one another out of meetings or left work to care for one another in an emergency. The time I stepped on a glass lantern (long story, that one) and he had to carry me to the car and then into the urgent care to have my foot stitched up. The times he left his packed lunch on the counter and I brought it to him at school. This year, with a faraway husband, I just had to make do. He would help if he could, certainly, but from a thousand miles away he couldn't always do much.

One chilly winter day my car battery died in our parking lot. No big deal, I thought. I'll just jump it! I called a friend who happened to be home and she came out and we jumped it. Yup, two women jumped a car with no problem. We felt pretty proud of ourselves.

I let it run for awhile, and then drove to the grocery store a few miles away. You probably know where the story goes from here, but the battery died again. If you know me, you know that I know next to nothing about cars. Put gas in, change the oil, and it should work fine, right? Now I wasn't sure what to do. What if I got stranded? What if that friend wasn't home? It was the middle of the day and almost everyone I knew was at work or in class. It was cold. Should I hang out in the grocery store, wandering the aisles for hours? Should I walk home on the shoulder of the highway in the cold? I panicked. Called Daryl - no answer. He was in class. Even if I had gotten through, what could he have done? Called my Dad (an equally unhelpful idea, as he lives in Wisconsin, but in the moment it seemed like the next best option). He told me to go to the Pep Boys to get the battery looked at when I could get it jumped.

It surprised me how frazzled I felt. There was no significant crisis - I wasn't lost in the wilderness in sub-zero temperatures. I was at the grocery store. Worst case scenario I could buy myself a bottle of juice and read the magazines until my rescue came. Or I could be brave and ask a random person for a jump. But the fact that my usual knight-in-shining-armor was far away was unsettling. Sure, this was just a car battery. But what if I broke my leg? Would I crawl to the neighbor's apartment for help? Things weren't disastrous, certainly, but they were suddenly darned inconvenient.

After a few moments of these new thoughts swirling in my brain, I finally got smart and called the same friend who had jumped me half an hour before. She was home. She jumped the car and I drove it straight to the Pep Boys and walked home.

2. The (lack of) laundry folding.
Daryl hates folding laundry. Hates it. With a burning passion. This year Daryl just wears wrinkly shirts. He misses me. One of his favorite things to hear when I visit is, "Do you want me to fold that pile of clean laundry?" For that question I always get a hug and a shy, "Well... I wouldn't mind it..."

You see, I have to fold and put away the laundry right away at our Princeton apartment, or you-know-who finds it...

3. The painters coming early.
There were several instances this year where I longed for a husband at home to take care of an awkward situation. One was when our ceiling developed a serious leak and needed to be fixed and repainted. The painters stopped by the afternoon before and told me they'd be there between 9:00am and noon.

I am NOT a morning person. Most of my classes start at ten in the morning or later. Still, no matter. If they might arrive at nine, I would certainly be out by ten till. I got up early in order to leave the house before the painters might arrive. At 8:30, there was a knock on the door. I was in a towel with dripping wet hair. I looked through the peep hole only to see three workmen with painting equipment standing in the hallway. Boy, would I have liked Daryl to field that one... Instead I shouted an awkward - "I'll be ready in a minute!" and frantically dressed and ran out the door five minutes later, dripping wet hair and all.

4. He's my husband and yes, I'm being selfish with him.
One of the things we knew would be tough this year was that people like Daryl. Specifically, his Princeton friends like him. He has a wonderful cadre of friends at the seminary. The trouble was that he was usually only in town for two or three days a month. Sometimes I had to learn to share those precious hours. Sometimes we had to politely decline invitations. It was interesting to learn the balance between caring for our marriage (we need us time!) and loving our friends and letting them love us.

Once Daryl's friends John and Matt had picked him up at the airport and driven him to Princeton while I was at play practice. They spent a couple of hours together, and Daryl had a really wonderful time. On our return trip to the airport that Sunday, Daryl reflected on their time.

"I'm so glad I came to town this weekend," he said. "I had such a great visit with John and Matt." There was a moment's pause, and then he looked over at me sheepishly. "And with you, of course."

No worries, love. I know you enjoy your man-friends.

5. The "we're separated" conversations.
This was how I often mistakenly described our situation. Then I got looks of sympathy/disapproval/sadness/confusion/judgment/disappointment. Then I would quickly correct myself: "Oh, no, our marriage is fine! Really! It's fine! We're geographically separated..." Awkward, awkward, awkward.

6. Daryl's serious addiction to the West Wing.
We've both found that creating and sticking to routines have helped us this year. When I get stressed, I do puzzles (doesn't make a lot of sense, but it really helps). When Daryl has trouble falling asleep, he watches an episode of The West Wing as he nods off. This has become part of his routine. We've both been through the series a couple of times, but now he quotes lines in conversations regularly. Without being able to fall asleep next to me, he's taken to falling asleep with Josh (Bradley Whitford), Toby (Richard Schiff), Leo (John Spencer), CJ (Allison Janney), Donna (Janelle Moloney), and Sam (Rob Lowe). This isn't a difficulty, per say, though I'm committed to not sharing our bed with the entire Hollywood cast come May...

7. The sick-and-dying cat.
Oh, Eliot, how we love you. Thank you for not dying. No thanks for giving me a couple weeks of utter hell. But it was worth it to keep you alive, silly silly cat.

8. I forgot...
I spent a summer during high school working for a Christian camp in Jackson, Wyoming. At the end of camp, the friends I'd worked with wrote notes in the back of my journal as a keepsake. Several of them mentioned what had become my catchphrase over the summer: "Where's my [fill in the blank]?"

I have lost things this year. I lose things. I'm not disorganized, per se, I just forget to double check sometimes. Daryl is my double-checker. He actually gets down on his hands and knees and looks under hotel beds. He looks in drawers. He checks underneath restaurant tables. I do not do these things. When we're together, I'm golden. When we're not, I'm in a bit of trouble.

Even this past weekend, which I spent in Nashville with Daryl, I was reminded of how much God must love me to find me a man who double-checks. Daryl took me to "Fiddlecakes," a gf bakery in Nashville. There I bought a cinnamon roll (a cinnamon roll! I have been craving these for NINE MONTHS!!!) which I devoured immediately, and a chocolate cupcake. At most gf bakeries there are no prices listed (Fiddlecakes was no exception). The reason for this is that us gf-ers will pay pretty much anything for a decent and safe pastry that we didn't have to bake ourselves. So this chocolate cupcake was like gold - not because it was exorbitantly priced, but because it was so terribly exciting.

We went to Panera to work on our final papers, and sat in the outside patio area in the beautiful Nashville sun. I put the golden cupcake under the table (it was in a box) to avoid having the frosting melt in the sun. And promptly left it there. Until Daryl double-checked.

I love that man.

9. Church.
I have a new appreciation for what it's like to be single and mid-20s in the church. It can be lonely to sit by myself in a pew when I don't run into someone I know. It can be difficult to summon the courage to sit with someone new, to meet someone new, week after week. It can be tempting to sleep in, to not bother (and I love church! I'm on my way to pastor-hood, after all!). After these months I'm more committed than ever to making sure there aren't any forgotten demographics in the church - that all are included in worship, events, and retreats.

Not that my church has excluded me in any way (I love, love, love my church, and it hasn't at all), but I do have a new appreciation for the extra strength and courage it takes to go to church alone week after week, and a new focus on reaching out to others around me in the pews who are alone - both those who remain single and those who are newly alone because of a military deployment, an empty nest, or the death of a spouse.

Next, the joys of nine months apart from my husband (and - this may surprise you - there were many).

GF Recipes: Peanut Butter Cookies

2010-04-17T12:30:00.000-04:00

This recipe is courtesy of my bro-in-law Jared. He made these cookies just because they're (ridiculously, super) easy and tasty, and when he heard of my malady, he was happy to offer me a recipe that he had been baking for years that is naturally gluten free! Enjoy!

This is Jared deciding whether or not he can eat one of these pizzas in 30 minutes and get it for free when we visited Ocean City.

Jared's Peanut Butter Cookies
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Ingredients:
1 c. peanut butter (smooth or chunky - most are naturally gf)
1 c. white sugar
1 egg
Directions:
Mix ingredients together. Roll heaping tablespoons of dough into balls. Press them down with a fork. Bake for 10-12 minutes. Makes 18-24 cookies.
Additional ideas:
Adding 1 t. of vanilla (make sure it's gf! most varieties aren't, though Costco's store brand is) and/or 1/2 c. chocolate chips.

Easy, fast, yum.

Reflections as I Plan to Live (Once Again) With My Husband: Part 2

2010-04-16T12:00:00.002-04:00

This is my little tribute to the past nine months: the craziness, reflections, difficulties, and joys of the past months my husband and I have spent apart. Installment #2 is dedicated to reflections - what I've learned about myself, my husband, and my marriage after nine months of living far, far apart.

1. I really love my husband.
Living apart has taught me how much Daryl and I just "get" each other. Of all the people in the world, he's the one who knows me best, understands me best, and often knows what I'm feeling before I even speak. I love him, and when he's gone, part of me feels like it's gone, too.

2. No, I really love him.
Seriously.

3. I married a good man.
We've both been insanely busy this year, Daryl with his first year of PhD studies and traveling to conferences, me finishing my MDiv while working a couple of part-time jobs and participating in a spring play. Yet every few days Daryl will pause to remind me that I am his priority and that he'd drop everything for me in an instant. In November when Eliot got so sick, he proved it.

Daryl has great ambitions and great skill. He is working incredibly hard in his program. Yet I know that, above all, Jesus is his first priority. After that, I am. Even with the prestige of his program, the responsibilities he has taken on, and the name he is building for himself in academia, his priorities are in line. He goes to church every Sunday. He carves out an hour or so to talk to me every day. He sends me sweet emails and notes to remind me that he loves me. He Skypes with his mom and keeps in touch with his dad and brother. He runs tech support for my family when their Macs break down. He occasionally drops everything to help me edit a paper or a job application.

I married a good man, and this year has only reconfirmed how lucky I am.

4. I'm stronger than I thought.
During the past couple of weeks I've done a couple of things without batting an eye that I never, ever did while we were married. I picked up a giant, dead cockroach (I know, right? My apartment building is fifty-ish years old and in quite a state of disrepair...) and threw it away. I cleaned kitty poo off of the rug in the bathroom. I cleaned out a scary, scary tupperware full of month-old soup in the fridge. I scheduled a doctor and a dentist appointment without Daryl reminding me. Little things, I know, but I did them without even thinking. Without balking or hesitating. I just did them, because they needed doing. I'm much more ready to have kids than I was months ago. Living alone has helped me to grow up a bit.

5. I'm weaker than I knew.
Some days I cannot pry myself out of bed with a crowbar. Daryl is good at getting me up on those days. He'll kiss me on the forehead, then talk to me, then shake me a little (if I really, really need it). His last resort is usually, "Well, I'm getting in the shower and you're going to be late..." That usually does it. When it's just me in a comfy, warm bed with two snuggly cats I can easily talk myself out of whatever I had planned for the morning. Early reading? Why? Getting ahead on school? But I can snuggle into my blankets for another hour! Some days I need an extra hand, and without it, I really struggle.

6. Touching is good.
When Daryl and I were first dating we hit a rough patch. We fought about a lot of little things as we worked to deepen our relationship, and I wasn't always sure how to love him in the midst of these arguments. Once, after arguing back and forth for awhile, I put a hand gently on his arm. Then I quickly removed it and apologized. "Sorry," I said. "Is it okay to touch you when we're fighting? Does it bother you?"

"Not at all," he responded. "Touching is good." This became a theme of our relationship. Not that we were overly touchy (we both subscribed to the abstinence-before-marriage program wholeheartedly), but we were free with our affection - an arm around the shoulder, a squeeze of the hand, a hug, a kiss.

The reassuring and healing power of touch is quite an incredible thing. I've read news pieces on third-world orphanages where babies actually die from lack of touch. A close friend of mine recently confided that she's frustrated with being single because no one ever touches her. In our society you touch family and significant others - all other touch is limited to a handshake or perhaps, rarely, a hug from someone of the same sex. Touching has become taboo outside of romantic relationships, driving people toward relationships they may not want or be ready for simply because they are aching to be touched or hugged.

In many other countries, this isn't the case. In much of Spain, friends of the same sex will walk around holding hands or with their arms around one another. In France it's common to get kissed on both cheeks when you're greeted. In Italy hugs come with handshakes. In America we tend to keep to ourselves and touch only our family. During a time where most of us live hundreds (if not thousands) of miles from our families, there is not much human contact.

A professor of mine lost her husband years ago. I sat in front of her at a lecture where the speaker mentioned how rare it is to experience any human contact if you live alone, "particularly if you have lost a spouse." I could hear the professor sigh heavily behind me. This rang true for her. But because of my student status, what could I do? I couldn't offer her a hug; I was her student, she my teacher. But my heart ached for her.

I've found this lack of human contact to be very true this year. By the time it's been two or three weeks apart from Daryl I am positively aching for a hug. Sometimes I go the entire two or three weeks without touching another human being. Sometimes the only human contact I have is handing a paper back to a student, accidentally bumping into someone at the seminary post office, or shaking the hand of a colleague. I realize that I'm lucky - this season will end for me soon. But what about those who go weeks and months between family visits and don't experience any human touch?

Touching is not only good, it's necessary. I don't know the solution - how to encourage more (appropriate) touch in our hyper-sexualized society. But it's worth considering.

7. I'm not doing this again.
I'm glad we did it. We were following the Lord's call and (as Scripture clearly shows), ignoring that is only done at our own peril. But barring another act of God, we are done living apart. Done. Fin. Fo' real.

8. I'm more adventurous when I'm alone.
Marriage has made me a little bit more safe. I take fewer risks when I'm happy and comfortable. This year, on my own, I've rediscovered a more adventurous side of myself. I dress more fashionably, I go out more, I hang out with people more. I'm home less often because there are more fun things to do out in the world than in my little apartment. I've also had time to make some incredible new friends - friends who have made this year not only bearable but full of joy, laughter, insightful conversations, and great fun.

I also got to be in a rockin' play. :)

9. Dietrich Bonhoeffer nailed this idea of what it feels like to be separated, and what we, as Christians, must do to survive it.

For my Ethics and Dietrich Bonhoeffer course I'm currently reading Bonhoeffer's Letters and Papers in Prison. I'm about halfway through it, and on the plane to visit Daryl in Nashville this weekend, I came across this passage. It was so akin to my own experience this year it was almost eerie...

Bonhoeffer was writing to his good friends Renate Wind and Eberhard Bethge. They were newly married and facing a time of separation as Bethge was sent abroad. At this point Bonhoeffer had been in prison for many months, separated from his fiancé, Maria.

"I should like to say something to help you in the time of separation that lies ahead. There is no need to say how hard any such separation is for us; but as I've now been separated for nine months from all the people that I'm devoted to, I should like to pass on to you something of what I have learnt...

"First: nothing can make up for the absence of someone whom we love, and it would be wrong to try to find a substitute; we must simply hold out and see it through. That sounds very hard at first, but at the same time it is a great consolation, for the gap, as long as it rem,ains unfilled, preserves the bonds between us. It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap; he doesn't fill it, but on the contrary, he keeps it empty and so helps us keep alive our former communion with each other, even at the cost of pain.

"Secondly: the dearer and richer our memories, the more difficult the separation. But gratitude changes the pangs of memory into a tranquil joy. The beauties of the past are borne, not as a thorn in the flesh, but as a precious gift in themselves. We must take care not to wallow in our memories or hand ourselves over to them, just as we do not gaze all the time at a valuable present, but only at special times, and apart from these keep it simply as a hidden treasure that is ours for certain. In this way the past gives us lasting joy and strength.

"Thirdly: times of separation are not a total loss or unprofitable for our companionship, or at any rate they need not be so. In spite of all the difficulties that they bring, they can be the means of strengthening fellowship quite remarkably.

"Fourthly: I've learnt here especially that the facts can always be mastered, and that difficulties are magnified out of all proportion simply by fear and anxiety. From the moment we wake until we fall asleep we must commend other people wholly and unreservedly to God and leave them in his hands, and transform our anxiety for them into prayers on their behalf." -Letters and Papers from Prison, 176-7.

Amen, brother. Amen.

Let. It. Go.

2010-04-15T08:39:00.000-04:00

I went to PTS's senior banquet on Wednesday. After getting ridiculously sick earlier in the week from an accidental gluten-ingestion incident at a restaurant, I didn't want to risk getting sick again so close to final exams. The last bout took two days of my life, and when you have 70 pages to write in 9 days, it's good to use all of those days to the fullest and not spend them in bed. In addition to the usual risks, the banquet was being held in Princeton's dining hall where the likelihood of cross-contamination is incredibly high. I can get sick from a single bread crumb, so hoping for the best just wasn't going to cut it.

Anyway, I ate before the banquet but went to hang out with my fellow seniors, see old friends, and chat over dinner. Faculty, students, and staff are the servers at the banquet, which is really cool. It's fun to see a New Testament professor or a Pastoral Care staff member serving dinner as a gesture of kindness and goodwill to us all at the end of seminary. Anyway, this is where my story takes an odd turn.

A well-dressed, elderly woman came to give me my salad. Not wanting it to go to waste, I turned to her and said, kindly but firmly:

"I have severe food allergies, so I'm just going to have water, thank you." The following conversation then ensued.

Her: (grumpily) Well, what is it you're allergic to?
Me: I'm just not going to eat. Really, I'm fine. I ate before I came tonight.
Her: Well, what about salad? (the salad was covered in dressing - something that often contains gluten)
Me: No, I'm afraid not.
Her: Are you sure?
Me: Yes, I am. I'm sorry. I'm just here for the fellowship.
Her: (suspiciously) What is it you're allergic to, exactly?
Me: I just - I'm just not eating. (explaining gluten is always difficult, and if you just say "wheat," people think they can avoid handing you a loaf of bread and you'll be fine, when, in reality, gluten lurks in everything from spices to fillers to flavorings)
Her: (firmly) Well, can we make you something special?
Me: No, I just - I can't. I'm sorry. I'm sure it's all very good.
Her: Do you want dessert? Can you have chocolate? (at this point I feel like we're starting to cause a scene. people at other tables are glancing up at us with raised eyebrows)
Me: No. Really, I'm fine.
Her: Well, I 'm going to give you a place-setting and a napkin. Is that okay? (said in a tone of disbelief, as if I'm faking no appetite but will certainly give in soon)
Me: Um, sure. That's fine. Thank you. (this is all just so weird, and she will not stop!)
Her: Are you sure I can't get you anything at all?
Me: No, really. Thank you.
Her: Anything at all?
Me: No, really. I'm fine. I got really sick this Monday and I don't want to risk getting sick again.
Her: Oh, right. Especially from here.

Aaaaand... scene.

The worst part was, after she left the people around the table told me who she was. I won't reveal it here for privacy reasons, but she was a pretty high up person at the seminary who apparently takes hospitality really seriously. What's a girl to do when the choice is between potentially getting really sick (during final exams, no less) and offending a really important person who thinks you're just being rude? Ugh.

I hate that I can't just eat normal food.

But I'd rather be perceived as rude then spend the next two days in bed...

Cats

2010-04-14T22:07:00.002-04:00

"Cats are intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a function."

--Garrison Keillor

Reflections as I Plan to Live (Once Again) With My Husband: Part 1

2010-04-14T08:39:00.000-04:00

We've (nearly) done it! After nine months (nine months!) of living in different states, different zip codes, and different time zones, my husband and I are only a couple of weeks away from being reunited permanently. In the same state, zip code, time zone, and the very same home! We will once again get to fall asleep together, wake up together, cook dinners together, and go through daily life together each and every day. Praise the Lord.

For those of you who don't know the reasons behind this temporary arrangement, see this November post.

As I look forward to this joyous reunion, I'm thinking about all the craziness, reflection, difficulty, and joy that has come for both of us this year because of our time apart. It's been hard, for sure. In honor of the nine months, I'm going to reflect on nine things in each of these categories over the next few days. First, the crazy:

Nine Forms of Craziness in a Year of Geographical Separation:

1. Travel. Ah, travel. In our flights from Philadelphia to Nashville (and Philly/Nashville to Chicago and L.A.) we've gotten delayed, canceled, bumped, lied to (thanks, United), given seats in first class, and gotten snowed in for a whole day. We drove to the Nashville airport once during the storm of the century and passed at least a dozen cars in the ditch. We've become road-and-air warriors, patient airport waiters, and experts at packing for a 2-3 day visit. I now have proper toiletries, including mousse, in two states. I've fallen asleep on the shoulders of strangers (sorry, guy on Southwest flight to Nashville in December...), made new friends because of airport-suffering solidarity (I had to talk some guy down after finding out it was his third - THIRD! - day stuck at O'Hare. He was about to snap...), watched some really dumb movies that I wouldn't normally watch, and read that stupid in-flight catalogue at least a dozen times. Speaking of which, my remote-controlled tarantula and automatic litter box should be arriving soon...

2. Scheduling. Ah, scheduling. iCal has saved our lives and our sanity many a time. We synched our respective calendars early on in the fall to avoid the dreaded "Where-is-my-spouse?" at an odd hour of the day.

But even with the help of iCal, scheduling can sometimes be tricky. Recently Daryl flew out for Easter and then to see me in the play a week later. We usually see each other every 2-3 weeks, so this presented a dilemma. Do we see each other again during the finals season, or wait 3 1/2 weeks before reuniting again? After three weeks I start to feel less like a wife and more like a best friend/therapist who talks to the same guy on the phone every day. We've learned it's best not to go that long. Still, visiting during finals season isn't fun for either of us. "I've missed you, sweetie! Now I'm going to write a paper, so be quiet."

In the end I landed a CPE interview for the following week, so I'll be trekking to Nashville anyway. But still, the scheduling gets ridiculous at points. And crazy.

3. Phone troubles. One evening around 7pm I had great intentions to read my Bible for awhile. I was also ridiculously exhausted from a long day of class and work. I turned off my phone (just for a few moments, you know, so that Jesus wouldn't be interrupted), opened the Bible, and promptly fell asleep. For three hours. I was awakened to my friends Sam and Brandi pounding on my door. I groggily went over and opened it, thinking I had just drifted off for a moment or two. The following dialogue ensued:

Brandi: "Hi, Courtney. Um... here's your dish back that we borrowed."
Me: (sleepily) "Yeah, sure. No problem." Starting to close the door...
Sam: "And, um... can you call your husband?"
Me: (a bit incredulously) "Seriously? He called you? He can be a bit of a worrier sometimes. I just turned my phone off to read my Bible for a minute..."
Brandi: "Oh, okay. He just called us because he was worried."
Me: "Seriously? I just turned the phone off a minute ago!"
Sam: "You do know it's 11pm, right?"
Me: "11pm! Oh, shoot!" I ran to my phone only to see six missed calls over a period of four hours... Oops...

4. Lost things. Occasionally I've felt how I imagine a young child of divorced parents must feel. After looking for something I need for a long, long time, I realize I left it at Daryl's. In Nashville. Boo.

This is also troublesome when Daryl notices an article of clothing I've left with him accidentally in Nashville and he calls me to ask if I want it. Have you ever tried to describe clothing to someone over the phone? This is not helped by the fact that I'm a girl and he's a guy (have you ever asked a guy to describe a friend's wedding dress when you can't make the wedding? it goes like this: well, it was white... it didn't have sleeves... it was kind of shiny... You might as well not even bother). I never have any idea what he's talking about. A pink shirt? What pink shirt? Do I even own a pink shirt? Baaaaaahhhh...

5. Eating in airports. In airports I can eat the following things: Cheetos (believe it or not, they're gf), Snickers bars, Cool Ranch Doritos, McDonald's milkshakes, Starburst, and Skittles. If I forget to pack my own stuff and I get delayed at all, I arrive to visit Daryl shaky, hungry, and hyper like a sleep-deprived five-year old. Not a good combination.

6. The bizarre things we fight about when we're not living in the same place. The following is an actual conversation we had a few months ago in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday:

Me: When do you want to talk tonight?
Daryl: What about nine?
Me: Lost is on at nine.
Daryl: Well, I'm going to bed at nine my time. I have an early morning.
Me: Then let's talk at eight your time.
Daryl: That's when Lost is on.
Me: Oh, right. Let's talk at seven then.
Daryl: I have a meeting at seven.
Me: Can't you stay up a little past nine your time?
Daryl: I'd rather not. Can you watch Lost online tomorrow instead?
Me: I'd rather not. Well, when can we talk?
Daryl: I don't know. The rest of my day is really busy.
Me: Shoot. Maybe we should just talk tomorrow morning?
Daryl: Wait, what are you doing now?
Me: Nothing.
Daryl: Well, we're talking now...
Me: Oh, right. Let's talk now!

This happens all the time.

7. The real value of money. We've spent money on things this year that we wouldn't have dreamed of purchasing in past years. We once paid $150 for Daryl to have an additional 24 hours in Princeton when something came up last minute (and it was worth every penny). We've purchased at least two plane tickets a month for the past nine months (and usually three or four). Honestly, how do you put a price tag on time with your spouse when you only see them every couple of weeks? You can't. This means, of course, that we've had to be careful in other areas. Fewer new shirts and jeans, creative meals. Daryl's become the master of making delicious Sunday soup or chili that lasts for dinner all week.

8. How emotion can be triggered by odd things. The first time Daryl flew in to Philadelphia this year we had been apart for only ten days. We decided to start with a short amount of separation, knowing that we had a long year ahead of us. He flew into Terminal F (aka, Philadelphia's "this-terminal-is-kind-of-an-afterthought-and-thus-VERY-hard-to-find-terminal"). I assumed he'd be in Terminal C where the rest of the US Air flights came in. I parked there and ran into the terminal baggage claim to find him. His flight ended up being about 20-minutes late. My huge I-love-Daryl smile started to get a little droopy. I sat there in the baggage claim, waiting for him to call and feeling like US Air was stealing my husband-time, moment by moment. By the time he landed my smile was droopy indeed. We had 48 hours together, and now we only had 47 1/2!

We then went through a fun game of Terminal C/Terminal F hide and seek where we managed to miss each other three times. Three times! I ran by random passengers and their luggage time after time looking more and more frantic and annoyed. Now I had 46 1/2 hours with my husband, on top of NINE MONTHS apart from him! When we finally saw one another, instead of a joyful reunion Daryl was greeted with a teary, angry, frustrated wife. I wasn't angry at him, but at the seeming injustice of the whole airport system and the whole lonely year ahead of me. How unfair for us to have to spend the year apart! How terrible to waste an hour and a half of our precious time chasing one another through an ugly airport? He had to calm me down, and I had to learn that he wasn't gone forever and that counting each moment made things worse, not better. It took time.

Plus, look how happy he was on his first day of PhD school. It helped to remember this, too.

9. How crazy it can feel to live alone. I've never lived alone. I've lived with my family, with roommates in college and after, and with Daryl. I have never in my life had an apartment to myself. It can be lonely. It can be relaxing. In its worst moments, it can be crazy-making. Sometimes I explain things to the cats like they can help me. "Eliot! Seriously, I can't figure out how to describe this concept in my sermon! You don't have any ideas, do you?"

Living alone definitely affects my cooking. I just don't. Or I make very boring and unbalanced meals. GF fish sticks and a bowl of cereal, anyone? A pear and a cookie for breakfast? Sigh... I'm a person who needs people around. I'm a girl who needs my Daryl.

In other news...
We're looking for a way to celebrate our reunion. My best idea so far is a day long hike in the Smokies when we finally settle in to Tennessee. Any other ideas for us to try out?

Ten on Tuesday (Take Nine)

2010-04-13T18:22:00.002-04:00

Welcome back, friends! The play was a smashing success, despite some bumps in the road (one cast member ended up in the E.R., I lost my voice for a day, and we had to fight tooth and nail to get the A/C turned on in the performance hall despite temps of 90 degrees...). It was incredible amounts of fun, and I'll post pictures soon. For now, I'm fighting off a gluten-attack, so all I can muster is a simple "Ten on Tuesday."

Again, courtesy of Roots & Rings.

1. What book, movie or song has made you want to travel to a particular place?
I've always been intrigued by Italy after reading The Agony and the Ecstasy. Yes, I know Michelangelo no longer lives there, but still... Steinbeck's East of Eden made me curious about California's Salinas Valley, which I'd still love to visit. When Daryl starts getting homesick he listens to Randy Newman's "I Love L.A.," which makes me long for the palm-tree-strewn streets of SoCal. As a grade schooler I was proud to live in Wisconsin because of Laura Ingalls Wilder's The Little House in the Big Woods. I rarely don't fall in love with places I read about.

2. Aside from your significant other, who would you want to take with you on a dream trip?
I have very, very fond memories of traveling through England with my friend Sharece. She was a great travel partner - laid-back, funny, up for anything, and was equally happy chatting and journaling. I love traveling with people who aren't afraid of asking odd questions or making special requests. When we got stranded because the trains in England are, well, unreliable would be a kind way of describing it, she just shrugged and we went to a pub and drank copious amounts of tea and ate fish and chips and laughed about England's England-ness. When we got stranded in another train station, Sharece grabbed a station attendant and sweet-talked her way into a free 2-person sleeping car complete with tea and breakfast. And when we (eventually) made it home, we had a great story to tell.

I love traveling with my parents and sisters, too, and I've had some great trips with Daryl's former DSG (Discipleship Small Group) guys Chris and Steven and Chris's wife Stephanie. We make a fun fivesome, and enjoy equal parts heavy conversation (our last big conversation topic was baptism - infant or adult or both? - and we went at it for hours), laughter, and cooking great food.

3. Where would said dream trip be to?
Is it wrong that what bothers me most about this question is that it ends the question with a preposition? Ugh. What times these are in which we live! I gave my students a mini-lecture the other day about not ending sentences with a preposition and I got 29 blank stares. One student actually knew what I was talking about, and even listed off about 30 prepositions for the class. I don't know who her high school English teacher was, but he/she deserves a medal. And a raise.

The place to which I would travel would probably be Europe. I haven't been back since 2004 and I miss all of the cathedrals and museums and amazing food and cafés. I'd love to take Daryl to Germany and Austria (he's never been and he's been learning German for years), to travel back to Britain or France, or to explore new places I haven't visited like Italy and Spain.

4. If you were hosting guests or providing tips, what three things would you show visitors to your hometown? (be it where you live now or where you grew up)
In Princeton the three best things to see are 1) Grounds for Sculpture (an outdoor sculpture garden/museum in Hamilton, NJ), 2) Einstein's house (sadly, you can't go in it - it's always occupied with a professor + family because the University uses it to lure in new faculty), and 3) Nassau Street. On Nassau you have the glorious Thomas Sweet's (ice cream! mmm...), the Bent Spoon (amazing gelato for all you non-gf-ers), and Halo Pub (locally made ice cream! mmm...). Can you see that my life has a theme? It's a good thing I'm not allergic to dairy, too...

5. If you had a long weekend ahead of you, where you head – beach, city or country/mountains?
I'm currently at the tail end of a nasty gluten-attack (it's poison! pooooiiiissssoooonnn!!!!), so all I can think of right now is going to sleep. And then maybe waking up and eating some fruit. Then, more sleep.

6. Do you have a passport? If so, did you get it for a particular trip or just to have, in case?
I do indeed. I first got a passport when I was in junior high and our family traveled to Europe (yes, it was awesome, and yes, that makes me sound a little bit hoity-toity, but do remember that the dollar was really strong back then, so all of Europe was pretty much a half-off sale). I had blonde hair down to the middle of my back and a silly pink sweater from Old Navy on in the photo. I was pretty happy when it expired and I had to get a new one.

7. Are there any travel souvenirs you collect? If not, is there something else you collect?
No, I'm not really a collector. I have lots of great novels, but I usually don't have them for long because I give them away to people who I know would love them. I sent my mom home this weekend with The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. If I didn't like the book, I won't pass it on.

Example: I just read the highly rated novel The Elegance of the Hedgehog. It had potential, and occasionally brilliant moments, but on the whole it was really fussy. I don't like fussy books. You don't have to impress me by constantly proving to me how smart you are and how many words you know - just tell a brilliant story.

8. If you could name a paint color, what color would it be and what would you call it?
It would be a soft gray and I would call it "Eliot Kitty Whiskers."

Ask a silly question, get a silly answer.

9. If you were heading away for a weekend break solo, where would you go? (forget about practicality here and flight times, assume you can get to any city in the world for the weekend)
I would love to go somewhere with a sandy beach and that ridiculous teal-aqua-turquoise colored water to nap, read, and drink cherry cokes with those little umbrellas. This is my finals-week self talking. Ask me again when I'm rested and my answer will be more adventurous.

10. Is there a song or a smell or something that you strongly associate with a particular holiday/place/time, such that it always takes you back?
The Jars of Clay song "Liquid" always reminds me of the beginning of high school (specifically sitting in a car with my friends Amy and Jeff on the way to some youth group activity in the late spring).

The smell of certain soap reminds me of Honey Rock Camp, since they use that to wipe down the tables in the dining hall.

The smell of Gillette shaving cream reminds me of Daryl. Sometimes when I really miss him, I'll use that to shave my legs so that I smell like him all day.

The taste of maple syrup (the real stuff!) reminds me of boiling sap at my friend Tonia's family's home in Wisconsin. The air gets so sugary you can practically eat it. It's amazing.

The Play's the Thing

2010-04-08T10:32:00.000-04:00

The show opens tonight!

The seminary's performance of Brecht's "The Caucasian Chalk Circle" begins this evening, and I am super excited. I'll post pictures of the cast from the dress rehearsal after Sunday's show, but for those who are coming to the performances, I don't want to spoil the surprise of the costumes!

It's a great story. If you can't see it because you aren't in the area, it's a great read. Brecht was a complicated man, but he had some great insights into power, sacrifice, and the "terrible temptation to do good."

I'll be away from blogging until Tuesday or Wednesday. With the show, my parents in town, and Daryl visiting, I'm going to be one busy (and happy) girl.

Blessings to all! If anyone needs ticket information, drop me a line and I'll hook you up.

I'll Have the Croissant Sandwich, with Noodles and Croutons.

2010-04-06T18:47:00.004-04:00

Food allergies are annoying. This is embarrassing to admit, but I've always felt a touch of dislike for people who have food allergies. Not their fault, I know, but it sure does complicate a dinner when you have to avoid dairy, tree nuts, random produce, or (worse yet) gluten. Food allergies can be irritating, inconvenient, or even, in their worst moments, truly dangerous (nooooo! I forgot that cookie has peanut butter!!!!).

God must have a sense of humor, because at the beginning of this academic year I discovered that I am gluten-intolerant. Not only that, but many of the health problems that had sent me to the doctor over the past five years (anemia, exhaustion, and severe stomach cramps, to name a few) were caused by eating my favorite food: bread. With that discovery, thanks to the help of gf/gf-knowledgeable friends (love you, Heather, Brandi, Kris, and Nancy!) I began my gluten-free journey.

When I say I'm "gluten-free" I don't mean "I-generally-avoid-wheat" or even "this seems like a fun diet trick to try." I mean hard-core, very serious gluten-free. I read ingredients, Google restaurant menus, seek out gluten-free restaurants and baking supplies, and can tell within half an hour if I've accidentally ingested that which poisons my system. I have "cheated" only four times, two of which were at church communion when I forgot to bring my own gf bread and prayed that Jesus would protect me from communion-bread gluten (he didn't, and for the record, I don't think eating the wheat communion bread, gluten-intolerance be damned, is a very theologically sound idea). Once was when Daryl and I ate dinner at Outback Steakhouse and that dark brown molasses-y bread they brought out was just too tempting. I took a bite. One little bite. I soon regretted it.

The other time was at Carlos' Bakery in Hoboken when my little sister was in town. Because, I mean, come on, it's Carlos' Bakery! From Cake Boss! And you can't walk through a bakery like this and not be desperate for a cupcake. I ate one. Just one. And again, soon regretted it (but boy, was it tasty!).

Except for those slip-ups (all of which happened early on in the fall) I've now been gluten-free for eight solid months. In many ways it seems longer than this. I (mercifully) hardly remember feeling sick and exhausted almost all the time. When people give me the "awww... too bad" face when I mention my dietary state, I gently and quickly correct them. "Don't feel bad for me - I feel better than I've felt in years!" Giving up gluten was a small price to pay to not go again and again to the doctor where I'm told any number of things ranging from "it's just stress" to "are you sure you're really sick?" to (and this is my favorite) "eat more whole wheat!" It's a small price to pay for a hugely improved quality of life. The longer gluten is out of my system, the more even a tiny accidental bit knocks me out. Needless to say, my "cheating" days are long over.

I've adapted fairly well to the challenges of a gluten-free lifestyle. I know the lengthy list of ingredients I have to avoid, and I've gotten creative in the kitchen to fill in the gaps. I bake my own bread once a week, and I know by heart the list of "safe" candy when my sweet tooth gets the best of me. For an Easter lunch with friends I even baked my first apple pie. As it cooled, I ran from the kitchen to the living room where Daryl was sitting, jumped on his lap, and proclaimed with glee, "I made a PIE!" This would have been a feat even if it was a normal pie, but with the added challenge of being gluten-free, I felt like a rock star. Sure, I have 70-pages worth of final papers to write and no job for the coming year, but I made a pie!

There are only two things that I still struggle with when it comes to being gluten-free.

1. Favorite family or traditional foods that full of gluten. My family bakes. When I went home for Christmas my parents were incredibly kind about changing recipes so that I could eat with the family. Mom made me an amazing clementine cake and changed the recipe for the gravy so I could partake. Aside from the basket of rolls on Christmas day, I could eat almost everything. But there are some select family favorites that are very glutinous that I just can't share anymore. Cinnamon rolls. Almond-sugar cookies. Bisquick biscuits. At parties with friends I have to stay away from the birthday cake. It's always a little bit of a bummer. Yet, I don't want people to have to cook around me. After all, at a big enough gathering there will be people who are allergic to nearly everything, and that gets tricky. So what do I do? Bring my own little piece of cake? Pretend I'm not craving that sugar cookie? I went to a wonderful Christmas party at the seminary where I could eat two things: chicken and Hershey kisses. It was a great party but a long, hungry night.

I've learned to offer to bring gf things to gatherings, and I often bake on my own to fill in the gaps. I brought pie to Easter lunch (have I told you that I made a PIE?!?!), baked peanut-butter cookies from my brother-in-law's gf recipes for Christmas, and begged my little sis to bring me things from the Cooqi bakery near her home in Minneapolis (oddly enough there's no gf bakery in or near Princeton). I've learned to do without, to make do, and to fill in the gaps. But sometimes walking past that tray of cinnamon rolls or going an entire night with only meat and chocolate in my stomach can be tough.

What do the rest of you do?

2. Restaurants. Ah, restaurants... Occasionally this goes well. A handful of restaurants "get" the gf thing and are very accommodating. Those that get my halo of praise include PF Changs (they put the gf menu on the back of the real one! like gluten-intolerant folks are just like normal people!), Outback, and Maggianos Italian. Good fast food options are In n' Out (if only we had some east of the Mississippi!) and Chipotle. However, these are the exceptions, unless I want to survive solely on salads and soda.

I've learned the food-allergy manners. Don't go during a rush (it's hard to take a special order when the restaurant is overflowing with customers). Explain things clearly and politely, but don't back down. Explain that even a crumb or two can make you sick. Be willing to compromise on your order if they can't make it safely. Be willing to leave hungry if absolutely necessary.

Still, in the past eight months I've mentioned to a server or waiter that I am gluten-intolerant (I have yet to discover a good way to explain this quickly - if you say "I have a wheat allergy" it doesn't cover all problematic ingredients, but if you mention gluten often people don't know what you mean... It's not as straightforward as a dairy allergy.) and have gotten the following responses:

1. I don't have any idea what that is. ("Well, ask me, silly!")

2. I'm sure everything's fine. ("Liar. Now I'm going to get sick and your tip is going down.")

3. That will be perfect for you! It comes on a croissant! ("Um... and croissants are made out of what now?")

4. Eye roll. ("Now your tip is definitely going down.")

5. The salads come pre-made, but I can take off the croutons. ("Sigh...")

A good restaurant experience assures that Daryl and I will be back, while a bad one usually means I spend at least part of that day in bed--not a good risk to take. Usually it's easier just to stay home. Money is tight, so the risk of eating out and spending money when it may end in disaster is hard to muster sometimes. Still, every once in awhile the risk is necessary. We get stir-crazy or have a long week and need a little break. And then we venture forth into the world of restaurants with hope and fear. Sometimes it goes well. Sometimes not. I'm still learning.

Are any of you struggling with food issues or allergies? Does anyone have insight into how to make these restaurant/favorite food struggles a little easier?

I've not posted a good gf recipe in awhile, but I'll get back to that soon. My success test continues to be Daryl: if he'll eat what I've made and proclaim it "just as good!" or even, occasionally "even better!" than the regular gluten-y version, I consider it a success.

Pressing On

2010-04-06T12:52:00.000-04:00

I like to be comfortable. We all do, don't we? Comfortable is safe and familiar, warm and fuzzy. Even if we don't like what we're comfortable with very much (this same road construction delay, again?) there's still comfort in its familiarity, its sameness.

This Sunday our pastor preached a sermon on John 20 - Jesus' resurrection. Mary comes to the tomb to visit her Lord and finds him gone. Angels announce this to her, but she is so distraught that she doesn't even seem to notice that they are angels. Jesus is gone. Someone must have stolen his body! They must have taken him away! Hadn't they done enough when they hung him on a cross, mocked him, and let him die?

Then Jesus shows up. Not a dead-and-decaying Jesus. The risen Jesus Christ shows up and speaks to her. In the flesh. And she is, understandably, a bit confused.

Aside from the fact that Mary things Jesus is the gardener (a great illustration to how blinded we can all be to the truth by our own expectations, assumptions, or even our tears), the most interesting part of this passage to me is Jesus' response to her. Mary is scared, relieved, excited, and confused all at once. She cries out to him, "Rabboni!" (Rabbi, Teacher).

Then, instead of responding with the usual Jesus-love that we have come to expect (he did, after all, heal the blind and lame and take time out of his busy days to hang out with the poor, the leprous, and the unlovable), he responds simply: "Do not hold onto me, for I have not yet returned to the Father."

Huh? Jesus, Mary is scared and upset. She needs a hug or an explanation, not an order. And yet, this seems to be an order. What's going on?

Our pastor, Rev. Jonathan Miller, had a great insight. Christ isn't being rude or callous. He is responding to Mary's name for him: Rabboni. This is what Jesus was--he was their teacher and guide, leading his band of disciples and the crowds that followed him to the truth of God. But now things are a little different. He is pressing forward. He tells her, "Go instead to my brothers and tell them, 'I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God." After completing his earthly mission, Christ has a new mission. He is to return to the Father, to prepare a place for us, to send the Holy Spirit to us as counselor and comforter. Things, they are a-changin'.

Christ's response to Mary is one of newness. She cannot hold onto him because he has a new mission, and so does she. In a first-century world where women were looked down upon (to say the least), Christ gives her the mission of proclaiming the good news of Christ's resurrection to his brothers. Mary must press on.

Mary rises to this challenge, this mission. She tells the disciples, "I have seen the Lord!" Because her Lord, you see, is risen. And because he lives, she may also live. And because he is pressing on, so can she.

This passage gives me great courage as I head into the unknown. In just over a month I'll be a seminary graduate. Earlier today I sat in on a student loan repayment seminar. On the forms we all had to fill out there were spaces for "permanent address" and "employer." Um, rub it in, why don't you? The majority of us in the room knew neither of those things. It's difficult to work so hard for years and then come to a big blank slate. Will I find a calling that fits my gifts and my heart for the church? Will I have to wait a long, long time? How will the bills get paid in the meantime? Where will we live? What now?

I like to be comfortable. School was hard at times; working two or three jobs to help pay the bills was exhausting at times. Yet, it became comfortable. I know Princeton now. I know my fellow students, my professors, my church. I can find my way to Philadelphia and NYC without much trouble. I certainly know the way to the airport... My apartment, for all its troubles (and they are legion), has become a home. Yet I'm only weeks away from moving on and I'm not to what I am moving.

Yet Christ has called me. Christ has called Daryl. He has called us each and called us both, and he will not abandon us. In this season, I am learning to learn from Mary as she followed after Jesus. Like her, I press on.

Ten on Tuesday (Take Eight, on a Monday)

2010-04-05T08:56:00.001-04:00

Courtesy of Roots and Rings.

1. When you were a senior in high school, what career did you think you’d choose? Did you? Why or why not? For years I imagined I'd be a veterinarian. That was cured by a career field trip my parents set up for me at the local vet. Ten minutes after I walked in I was in an operating room with a German Shepherd on the surgical table, a tube down her throat for anesthesia, her pink tongue lolling out. The vet grabbed a scalpel and cut in. Blood ran out of the incision. I promptly blacked out. That was the end of that. It turns out that I am pretty much my father's daughter when it comes to blood.

2. What one thing about the “real world” did you find most surprising once you were on your own?
I was surprised by how little free time I had. My first year in the "real world" I was a graduate student working two jobs to help pay rent. By the time I had gone to Job #1, class, and Job #2, I had barely any time to cook dinner and fall into bed, much less exercise, see Daryl (only my boyfriend, at the time), and keep up with friends.

3. Name 3 things you think your closest friends DON’T like about you.
1) I'm a really awful phone person. I'll call people back, of course, but I'd always rather meet in person or email instead of call. 2) I can be annoyingly cheerful at times. Not on purpose, I just have a certain bounciness of spirit that can get on people's nerves if I'm not measured about it. Hmmm... is it bad I can only come up with two? Help me out, folks... I know there are more things!

4. In order to sleep, do you need background noise or absolute quiet?
Reasonable quiet, but more importantly than that, absolute darkness. I'll wake up if there's even a little bit of light, like the glow from a cell phone from across the room. A little noise doesn't bother me, but a little light does.

5. Why do you choose to reside in your current city? Yes, you have a choice.
For now, I live in Princeton, NJ because my seminary's here. In two months I'll be a Nashvillian (or Nash-Trash, according to my friend Heather), because my husband's graduate program is there. It looks like I'll be there for at least 4-5 more years, and we're open to settling there permanently if it's a good fit for us. Otherwise, we choose our cities based on their school programs, for the most part. If you build a good institution of higher learning, we'll probably live in your city. That's how we roll.

6. Are you close to your parents?
I am. We see each other every three or four months, and I always, always, always love going home. Dad calls it "my cocoon," and it really still is. I'll crawl into that guest-room bed and feel like all is right with the world. Then I wake up in the morning, go upstairs, and Dad already has the kitchen going with eggs and pancakes. Mom is always waiting with an art project, or to help me use the sewing machine I'm still learning to use. I love my parents.

7. What is your favorite fiction book? Poem? Blog?
I cannot possibly name just one fiction book. I have different favorites at different times. Here are a few I never tire of: East of Eden (Steinbeck), The Chronicles of Narnia (Lewis), The Anne Series (Montgomery), Moth Smoke (Hamid), Interpreter of Maladies (Lahiri), Wuthering Heights (Brontë).

I love T. S. Eliot's poem "Ash Wednesday." It speaks to my soul, in part because of its nonsensical, fragmentary bits.

As for blogs, I've taken to visiting the blogs I list on the right side of this one pretty often. I'm a sucker for "Beauty Tips for Ministers" (this lady cracks me up), in particular, as well as for my blogging friends who inspire me (IttyBittyImpact, The Outdoor Wife) or make me laugh (TheKlines, Confessions of a Bunn Girl, The Drurys in New Jersey).

8. Do you enjoy cooking or is it a chore?
I love cooking, but I don't particularly love cooking just for myself. If Daryl is around or I have friends over, I'll happily cook for hours. I'm still learning to be good at it, however. There are still relatively frequent culinary disasters in my kitchen... Are these rice noodles supposed to be crunchy? Sigh...

That said, I made a killer (and very delicious!) apple pie for Easter, and I'm still riding high on the glow from that particular culinary success.

9. Be honest. What one thing would (the majority of) your blog readers be shocked to find out about you?
I listen to "Adventures in Odyssey" pretty regularly. It's a kid's radio show produced by Focus on the Family. Focus does some good work, but I disagree fairly strongly with some of its theology. Yet this children's program is almost always really wonderful. The stories are fun, the characters are memorable, and it manages to relay Scriptural truths without being heavy-handed. I'm a sucker for a good story, and when my life gets hectic and crazy, it's really relaxing for me to listen to a 20-minute story where everything is wrapped up at the end, and Jesus is mentioned in positive ways.

One of the sweetest moments in my dating relationship with Daryl was when he sheepishly admitted to me that he still occasionally listens to Odyssey. He expected me to laugh. Instead, I lit up. "Really? Me too!" I chirped. That pretty much sealed the deal for both of us.

I also listen to loads of NPR, especially "This American Life" and "Car Talk." One of my dad's claims to fame is that he was ON car talk a few years back, asking a question about his turn signal. If you're interested, leave a comment and I'll send you the link.

10. If you were given your own national holiday, what would you require people to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner on the Day of You? Would there be a parade? Greeting cards?
On the "Day of Me" the first order of business would be sleeping in, followed by a yummy breakfast of gf pancakes, waffles, and/or French toast. The rest of the day would be spent relaxing, but not alone. It would be a day for friends and families, gathering in parks, playing Frisbee, playing music, and eating good food. It would resemble my family camping trips to McLaine State Park in Michigan, where whole days are spent walking the shores of Lake Superior, eating food straight off the charcoal grill, and dancing in and out of Lake Superior's icy waves. It's glorious, and I miss it.

Feel free to send me questions for future "Ten on Tuesday" updates. I'll answer them all, to the best of my ability...

Hahaha... Glad to See This Isn't Just an Inevitability...

2010-04-03T11:45:00.001-04:00

A breakdown of the dangers of "Mom Jeans" here.
Who knew that pocket placement was so crucial?

Thanks to Beauty Tips for Ministers for making us all a little bit better looking.

On Good Friday

2010-04-02T11:26:00.000-04:00

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Let us not forget today his walk to the top of the hill. The fear and the anguish. The pain and the terror. The nails. The splintered wood. The thorns. The spear. The blood.

Let us not forget the sin. Our sin, becoming his sin. For us.

Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?

The curtain of the temple was torn in two. What happened throughout the world when the sun was darkened? Did rabbits tremble, dogs howl, horses cower? Did all the creatures of the ocean look up to the sky, through the water, in fearful wonder? The disciples wept. Jesus' followers believed that all had been lost. Their Lord, their savior, their precious, beloved Messiah was dead. And dead, as they all knew, was dead.

With him died their hope for new life, for revolution, for peace, for safety and security. He was their friend, their teacher, their leader, their guide. He died, and on his way to death they denied him, ran from him, hid from those who came for him.

Sometimes it causes me to tremble.

Making Confession

2010-04-01T11:25:00.002-04:00

I've been thinking about confession lately. I'm in a seminary class on Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and I'm doing a final project on his work Life Together. Apparently Bonhoeffer was a big proponent of following the biblical practice of confessing our sins to one another. According to Geffrey Kelly, Life Together's editor, this did not go over so well with Bonhoeffer's community of seminary students.

Notes Kelly: "[Bonhoeffer] suggested that they might want to confess their sins privately to each other or else to him as the director of the community. This surprised them and, for some, even stirred up resentment, since it was not considered the 'Protestant' thing to do."

Still, he persevered in advocating for confession, both to God (who is the one who forgives) and to one another, as a way to help break the illusion of perfection and to free people from the secret shame of sin. And eventually he won over his community, and they began to confess to one another, to forgive one another, and to grow together.

While I was attending an Anglican church back in Chicago, during Holy Week the pastors and deacons would offer confession. Not because they could forgive, but because Christ forgives and because speaking our sins aloud, to one another in the presence of Christ, is freeing and healing.

I'm still mulling all this over during this Holy Week. What does it mean for us to "confess your sins, one to another"? All of my thinking about confession brought to my mind a poem by one of my former professors (and favorite poets), David Wright. It's in his book "Lines from the Provinces" which is filled with poetry about Chicago El train rides, liturgical practices, and the lonely plains of his home state of Illinois.

Making Confession
by David Wright

Confess several sins right off, first date--
           Your selfishness, your love of candy
   The child you fathered in high school
   How much you hate your mother's cooking
           How much you love your mother.

Later, see what tolerance she has for real depravity:

if she empathizes and forgives too quickly

if she looks understanding but keeps a list

of flaws to help you overcome

or if she simply sees through the ruse

of safe sins and habits of the past

if she knows how they will mask

tomorrow’s or today’s snarled lip

rolled eyes flared nostrils

that will wilt clichéd roses

you deliver to reconcile things done

and undone unforgivable in the present.

At last, confess your future faithless words

impatient hours of pretending to listen

making up wisdom on the spot

having sex when you should make love

making love when sex would be enough.

And if she calls them by name, sin, and confesses

they will matter will make her wonder

why she chose you a rock in her shoe

working its way into her tough heel and sole

then kiss her refill her coffee knowing

just how much cream she takes

and tell her all the wicked news she can stand

never letting go of her small angry hand.

Why Obey?

2010-03-31T11:01:00.001-04:00

Why Obey?

A sermon preached at First Presbyterian Church, Burbank (March 7, 2010), and the Chicago Presbytery (March 22, 2010)

2 Peter 3:8-15a
8But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. 9The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.

10But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything in it will be laid bare.

11Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? You ought to live holy and godly lives 12as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming. That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat. 13But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness.

14So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him. 15Bear in mind that our Lord's patience means salvation.

The summer before I started high school, my parents made me get a job. This was not in my plan for the summer. As a typical teenager, steeped in the art of persuasion, I tried everything I could think of to talk them out of it (you know, arguments like: “But I have the rest of my LIFE to work!”). No matter what I tried, they remained firm in their decision. After my eighth grade graduation, I soon found myself at a nearby resort every Saturday morning, cleaning cabins. I hated this. I hated getting up early, I hated cleaning up other peoples’ messes (especially at an age where cleaning my own room seemed to be a monumental task). Most of all, I hated being forced to do a job that I didn’t want to do.

Only one thing kept me going: The resort owners came around regularly to check my work. I worked so that I wouldn’t get caught not working. I didn’t want to get in trouble. Needless to say, I worked with a grudge in my heart and a scowl on my face.

Do you ever feel like the living the Christian life is a job you don’t want to do? Obedience can feel like quite a chore, and at times following Jesus feels more like drudgery than joy. The commands of Scripture to love our enemies, to give generously, to serve the poor among us, to care for one another, and to walk faithfully with our Lord are meant for our good, but sometimes they feel like just the opposite. Why should we obey when we don’t feel like it?

Our passage today from 2 Peter speaks to the issue of obedience. The passage begins with the author writing about what to expect at the end of the world, referred to here as the “day of the Lord.” The day of the Lord is a time when God will return to bring about a “new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells” according to verse 13. The old earth will pass away, and there will be no more pain or sorrow. Instead of creation’s ongoing struggle, there will be peace. Righteousness will dwell on the earth.

Some of you may be wondering what others in the early church wondered: “Well, where is this day? Why hasn’t the Lord come back? And why should we bother obeying when God will fix everything in the day of the Lord, anyway?” This question becomes even more pressing when we see injustice or experience suffering. The recent earthquake crises in Haiti and Chile are just one tragic example. Closer to home, we may know friends or family members struggling with chronic illnesses, loneliness or financial ruin. We may be in the midst of a time of great suffering ourselves. With all that’s wrong with the world, what’s God waiting for? God promises us this new heaven and new earth, so why hasn’t God come back already?

But let’s wait just a second. This time will indeed be a time of great celebration, but we also know from today’s passage that the day of the Lord will be a time of adjudication as well. 2 Peter verse 10 ends by saying that “the earth and everything done on it will be found out.” Yikes! Now maybe we might feel a bit more hesitant about wanting this day to come. Everything that is done will be found out. In another translation, this verse reads “Everything done on the earth will be disclosed.”

A logical move to make here would be to say, “Well, we’d certainly better behave, because Jesus is coming back, and he knows what we’re up to!” And in a sense, this is true. Not in the Jesus-is-out-to-get-us sense, but in the sense that God is always present with us, and knows our hearts, our minds, and our actions. Scripture tells us that we will face our creator someday. And this should give us pause when we are tempted to live lives of purposeful disobedience, taking no notice of God’s Word to us. God is real, Jesus is coming back, and we are called to live our lives in light of this truth. So yes, this is one reason to obey. The Lord does know our hearts and see our actions, and according to 2 Peter, upon Christ’s return, everything will be found out.

Yet, praise be to God, this is not the full message of the good news or this passage. For the gospel is genuinely GOOD news, not just warning that God is watching our every move like some sort of temperamental cosmic babysitter, waiting for us to mess up. We do not serve a God who desires the same begrudging obedience I gave when I cleaned those cabins. Living in obedience because we’re afraid of judgment can be a bitter and resentful way to live, and it is not the way to abundant life that Christ proclaims to us in Scripture. Wisely, Scripture gives us other, more important and joyful reasons to live in obedience in light of the Lord’s day to come.

First, we are to live in obedience because the Lord, in his infinite grace and love, is waiting for us to turn to Christ with our lives. The start of 2 Peter 3, verse 9 reads: “The Lord is not slow in keeping [the Lord’s] promise...Instead the Lord is patient with you…wanting all people to come to repentance.”

Most of us aren’t naturally very patient. We’ve probably all been in a situation recently where someone has pushed us to the brink of our patience. Spouses can be good at doing this. I don’t have any children, but I’ve heard that they are great at this. Someone gets under our skin and just pushes and pushes and pushes, until finally… we snap. We say something we shouldn’t, we storm from the room, or we internalize our anger and let it eat away at us. This is a very human response to being pushed. Yet, God does not snap. God does not act out of momentary spite. Unlike the popular children’s book about crazy hippos, God does not ever “go berserk.” God is patient, even when we haven’t earned this patience. Even when we live lives of willful disobedience.

Why is God patient with us? The answer is here, at the end of verse 9: “…the Lord is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” God is patient because he wants us all to turn to Christ. God waits so that all people have a chance to turn from the darkness to the light. Think of all those who have not heard the good news of the Gospel. God, in love, is waiting for them. Think of times in your life (maybe you’re in one right now), when you wandered away from living in faith and obedience. When we wander away and allow ourselves to be drawn in by wealth or power, fame or familiarity, idolatry, safety, or selfishness, the Lord is waiting for us. God wants to take away the bondage of our sin and the pain that it inevitably causes ourselves and those around us. Verse 15 puts it this way: “Our Lord’s patience means salvation.”

Therefore, in its most life-giving form, our obedience is our loving response to a loving God who wants to save us, care for us, and heal us. As further evidence of God’s love, in verse 13 God promises a “new heaven and a new earth.” Not only can we be free from sin’s bondage when we turn or return to the Lord in repentance, but one day we will no longer be surrounded with sin’s devastating effects. We will be part of the new heaven and the new earth, where righteousness dwells. The reason for obedience is that when we obey, we are serving a good, merciful, loving God who offers us freedom, grace, and healing in Christ.

Secondly, we are to obey because our obedience is for our good. Verse 14 instructs us to “make every effort to be spotless, blameless, and at peace with God.” Why? Not only because it brings God glory but because it brings us life. This is vitally important to understand: the Lord calls us to obedience not just for God’s glory but also for our good. God is not a cruel master, asking for obedience to a host of random manipulative tasks. The lives Christ calls us to live—lives of obedient sacrifice, discipleship, justice, holiness, and love—are lives that bring life and wholeness to us and to those around us.

Put another way, lives of disobedience turn us into prisoners. Earlier in 2 Peter the author reminds us that people are “slaves to whatever has mastered them.” In Octavia Butler’s novel The Parable of the Talents, Butler writes of a future world where crime is rampant and the government has become utterly corrupt. One of Butler’s characters, Len, loses her mother to an addiction when Len is only a teenager. This addiction isn’t to drugs or alcohol, but rather to a virtual reality room where she can be anywhere she wants. In a broken world, Len’s mother spends her days in virtual Paris or the virtual Bahamas, relating to virtual friends. When Len enters the room to talk to her mother, she is berated for interrupting her mother’s ongoing fantasy. What started out as an enjoyable activity has actually become a trap. Len’s mother has become a slave to her virtual world, and cannot escape it. Her own desire for escape has mastered her and turned her into a prisoner.

This caution from 2 Peter continues to be a prophetic one for us today. Human beings continue to be “slaves to whatever has mastered them.” What turns you into a prisoner instead of a free disciple of Christ? You know the hurdles for your own obedience (and we all have them!). Though living in slavery to sin may be fun for a moment or a season, but will ultimately bring despair. Something that seems fun or rebellious or life-giving for a season ultimately brings despair. Christ came to set us free from this bondage. Thus, we are to live lives of obedience because this obedience helps us walk in the life-giving freedom of the Gospel not only today—right now!—but also tomorrow, next month, and next year, in all its joy and peace.

“But wait,” you may ask. “I do my best to follow Jesus. I make mistakes sometimes, but with God’s help, I always get back up. But my life is hard. I’ve served God faithfully, but my family can’t make ends meet. Sometimes people at work make fun of me for being a Christian. My mom was just diagnosed with cancer. You say that obedience brings life and peace, but it doesn’t feel like it to me. Not right now. My obedience isn’t life-giving. It’s exhausting.”

Friends, this is where the message of the good news about life-giving obedience intersects with the cross of Christ. It’s easy to sell life and peace—any self-help book or spiritual guru can do that. Yet Christianity is about the resurrection and the cross. Death and life. It would be dishonest not to admit that sometimes obedience feels nothing like joy or peace. Sometimes it feels like utter exhaustion, or frustration, or even suffering. In these moments we must not forget where our own Lord’s obedience led him. Christ was obedient even unto death.

Even so, his death was not the end. Christ’s crucifixion, his obedient death on the cross changed everything, for our God is so big that even death cannot contain him. Christ’s death and resurrection changed the world. We do not serve only a crucified Lord—we serve a risen one. Our God has conquered sin and sin’s ultimate end: death. For this reason we have both a present and a future hope.

Our obedience is life-giving both because it helps to unbind us from sin’s entanglements and because it allows us to know our Lord more intimately, to follow him more closely, and to begin to be transformed into his likeness. Please don’t get me wrong—our obedience to God is not what saves us. Only Christ’s work can do that. But through our obedience—by following after Jesus even when it is hard, we begin to know Christ. In Philippians 3, the apostle Paul puts it this way: “I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain the resurrection from the dead.” When we are suffering, we aren’t alone. Christ has suffered on our behalf, and Christ suffers with us in our pain even now.

Indeed, we are invited to encounter the hope of the cross and resurrection in the big sufferings of life and in the daily, common struggle to just get through the day. Not everyday was the day of crucifixion for Jesus in his ministry. Some days, we can only imagine, involved walking from one town to the next town with nothing but the heat, hunger, and the disciples’ innocent, but perhaps annoying questions to keep him company. We follow after Jesus’ obedience in those common moments as well. And as we journey with him we are invited to slowly learn that obedience to him is not about fear that he is looking down on us; it’s about the intimacy of knowing he’s next to us on the journey. This is the intimacy of getting to know him in our daily lives whatever challenge—big or small—may come our way.

While I was cleaning those cabins back in high school I worked because I was afraid of “the day of the Lord” in the form of the “checking in of the owners.” To draw the parallel to our Christian lives, I was being obedient so I wouldn’t get in trouble, and this made my work full of resentment. But what I didn’t tell you earlier was that I didn’t clean those cabins alone. The resort owners’ daughter, Jessie, cleaned them with me. While I begrudgingly scrubbed bathtubs at a snail’s pace, Jessie worked diligently and professionally. I would often quickly proclaim an area of the cabin “good enough” and she would return to carefully double-check each room for any oversights. I thought she was crazy to, but as the summer wore on, she shared with me the reasons behind her diligence.

While I was working just so that I wouldn’t get caught not working, Jessie worked hard because she loved her parents—the owners. She also knew that her obedience worked in her favor. The money she made cleaning those cabins paid for her skating lessons and her soccer uniform. The rental revenue her parents received from the cabins eventually helped send her to college. She worked hard because she knew her parents had her good in mind. While I worked solely out of obligation, Jessie worked with love.

A funny thing happened that summer. Jessie’s diligence started to change my perspective. I began to realize that my bad attitude was actually making the work harder. I eventually joined her and began to work industriously too. And do you know what? The work—though those cabins were exactly the same—got easier. The cabins were cleaned much more quickly when I wasn’t dragging my feet every step of the way, and when we got done early, we often had time to go swimming in the nearby lake, washing away all of the sweat and Windex from our labors.

Just as Jessie taught me, our lives of obedience can teach our friends and families what it means to serve God in love. And this can change their lives, as they turn to the Lord themselves and live out the repentance and holiness 2 Peter talks about.

But remember: living a holy life isn’t merely to be an example for those around us or because God says so. When we follow after Christ, a miraculous thing happens. We find peace with God and within ourselves because we are no longer slaves to sin. We begin to know Christ and to have fellowship with him and with one another. And even when our lives are difficult, we remember that the “day of the Lord” is coming, that Christ suffers with us, and that our present sufferings are “not even worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”[1]

So as you go out to your community, your job, your family, your home today, remember the message of 2 Peter to you and God’s promises of freedom that come with obedience to Christ. This week, and every week, “make every effort to be found spotless, blameless, and at peace with God” (v.14) by God’s abundant grace and the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

[1] Romans 8:18.

Ten on Tuesday (Take Seven)

2010-03-30T19:29:00.001-04:00

Thanks to the usual folks.

1. What television character do you identify with?
On my best days, I am CJ Cragg from The West Wing. On my not-so-on-the-ball days I am Donna Moss from The West Wing. On my really-off-the-wall days I am Phoebe, from Friends.

2. Describe your morning routine.
I wake up to my alarm and lay in bed for a few minutes, praying. If I'm extra tired (this is most morning), I'll hit the snooze once or twice. I eat breakfast (cereal, 98% of the time it's cereal... I love the stuff) while I surf the Internet. Because 9/11 happened during my first few weeks at college, I can't really start my day without checking the news. On September 11, 2001, I just got up and went to class right away, before learning about what had happened from a classmate. It really formed part of my morning psyche to want to know if the world is okay.

Then shower, brush teeth, dress, blow-dry, and bolt out the door. Sometimes I have time for makeup, sometimes not. The day goes distinctly better when I do.

3. How do you do lunch? Bring from home or dine out? Same thing every day or mix it up?
Since I live only 3 miles from campus, the easiest and cheapest (and most restful) thing is usually to run home and cook something quick. I've become a huge fan of guacamole and chips, chocolate-chip pancakes, or baked potatoes and veggies for lunch this year (not together, natch).

4. What is one moment that, although seemingly trivial at the time, changed your life?
During the first day of my freshman year I went to Wheaton chapel for the service and quickly realized I didn't know how to get to my class afterward. After the service ended tall guy with a shaved head stood up a couple rows in front of me and yelled, "Does anyone know how to get to Breyer Hall?" Someone in the row immediately in front of me (a sophomore) kindly offered to show him the way. I tagged along.

We all sat together during that first class and ended up forming a study group of four (with one other girl from that class) and met several times a week (enjoyable group studying is the key to learning Greek). We all became fast friends. Four years later, that tall guy and I were dating. Two years after that, we got married. I'm so glad I scheduled Greek at 11:30 on Mondays!

5. Name your top three beauty products.

Mascara, colored lip gloss, and mousse. Without them I look disheveled and undone. With them, I look slightly less so. Also, as my loving sister Caitlyn used to say, my eyes are my "one beauty" so I have to play them up. She was kidding... I think.

6. What do you do when you’re alone in the car?
I fluctuate between the Christian music station and NPR. Lately the Christian station has been playing the same 10 songs over and over and over again, so I've taken to supplementing it with Oldies. A doo ron ron ron a doo ron ron.

7. What is the ideal city for you to live in? If you can, take this test (< that’s a link) and tell us the results. Do you agree with them?

My ideal city is west of Jersey. It might be Nashville, Madison, Los Angeles, Duluth, Jackson Hole, Missoula, Idaho Falls, Glenwood Springs, Seattle, Minneapolis, Portland, or Tuscon. I'm pretty open, just not to the far east coast. Too far from home, too crowded, too East Coast-y. I'm going to miss the accents, though.

Wooter? Seriously? It's WAH-ter, people.

8. Are you waiting for something?

I am indeed. With a few job applications sent off (one to my dream, dream job!), I'm waiting to see what the future holds. I'm waiting (we're almost at 30 days!!!) to live with my husband again. I'm waiting to leave New Jersey and my flooded basement. Right now, most presently, I'm waiting for Easter. It is the very best day.

9. What was the last shocking news you heard?
I heard that a very gifted friend of mine didn't pass an ordination exam. Now he's going to be held up in the process for at least seven more months. I couldn't believe it - he's really bright and gifted, and I felt terrible for him.

This is a hard season for folks applying to upper graduate degree programs, too. With the recession, more people are looking at graduate school as a viable alternative, and programs are incredibly competitive. For every dear friend who has gotten an acceptance lately (yay, Peter and Cambria!!!), others have been turned down. My heart aches for them.

Four years ago Daryl was turned down to Princeton's PhD program. Many advisors and friends had assured him that he would get in, and while we weren't certain, we were very optimistic. When the "no" letter came (Someone at Princeton once corrected Daryl that it isn't a "no," it's that they have "declined to offer you admission." Right. Same difference, friend.) he went straight to the bathroom and threw up. It was a bad, bad day.

We got through it, and so will those who didn't get into the program of their dreams this year, but it's hard. Still, as we look back we're grateful for that bump in the road. It led us to M.Div's at Princeton together. It led us to a deeper understanding of ministry and grace. And now it has led Daryl to Vanderbilt and us out of New Jersey.

10. What are three things you wouldn’t do for a million dollars?
Leave Jesus, cheat on Daryl, and eat a bratwurst. In that order. I'd think about eating that bratwurst, but in the end, I don't think I could do it.

New Baby Pics

2010-03-29T09:29:00.002-04:00

Welcome to Sophia Joy!

Here is my mom (aka, Grandma!) with Aleah and her new little sister.

New Niece

2010-03-28T14:55:00.000-04:00

I have a new niece!

My sister Caitlyn and brother-in-law Jared welcomed their second little girl, Sophia Joy, at 4:45 this morning in Minneapolis.

Their first (Aleah) has bright, bright red hair. Sophia is a dark brunette.

Pictures to follow!

Lily the Bear

2010-03-28T09:32:00.000-04:00

My mom sent me this link a couple of days ago. If you catch her when she's awake, it's ultimate cuteness.

Lily the Bear's Den.

On Missing Him

2010-03-28T09:29:00.000-04:00

Inspired by my friend, Nish.

This is my Daryl. We've been married for over three years, and I love him more with each one.

We're counting down the days (only 38 now!) until we live together again, when I graduate from my M.Div. program and move to Tennessee with him.

The distance has been terrible. On the phone last night with Daryl I finally found words to describe why it feels so painful. "It's just... unnatural." That's the best way I can describe it. We're married. We love one another. We enjoy each day of our life together, and yet we're spending this year apart. It's absurd, really.

I realize that I am far more blessed than many. I have friends in the military who spend months or even years away from loved ones. But for us, being apart during this year has been hard. Just plain hard.

When I broke my ankle in high school it ached. It didn't hurt that acutely, it just ached. And after a few days of aching, it began to wear me down. Until I had surgery to repair it, nothing made it better. No painkillers or ice or positioning up on a chair took much of the ache away. It just ached, and every once in awhile the ache would be so long-lasting that I would just break down and cry in a choir practice room at school or in my room at home. The ache hadn't become stronger, it just never stopped, and this was exhausting.

In a way, this is what this year has felt like. I don't miss Daryl acutely most of the time. I'm not in terrible emotional pain. I won't die from missing him or "take to the bottle" as some Eagle River folks might say. Yet the ache is always present, and nothing really helps. Distractions help for a little while. Writing papers, rehearsing for the play, traveling to Chicago for meetings, all of these help a little. Morning "I love you" emails from him help a little. Phone calls late at night help; praying together before we go to sleep helps. But the ache is always present. My sorrows are deeper because I cannot share them with Daryl in person. My celebrations are more muted because he is not here to rejoice with me. The dinners I cook are usually haphazard because I often eat them alone. Nothing says "I'm living the life of a single graduate student again" like the dinner I ate last night of guacamole, tortilla chips, and (microwaved) scrambled eggs.

I turned in my PIF (the PCUSA's ministry application) earlier today. It's been a long road to get to the point where I am allowed to do this, so it was a big (okay, HUGE) accomplishment. I called Daryl to share the news, and he celebrated with me. But what I wanted was a "yay! you did it!" hug. A big Daryl bear-hug of congratulations. And I will get it, though I will have to wait another week first. Like I said - it's hard being apart.

Still, God has met us in incredible ways this year. When I met with my Presbytery in Chicago this week, several folks commented that I seemed to have a "new maturity" they didn't see in me last year. I think this is true for us both. After learning to depend on one another in marriage for our first years together, this year apart has taught us to be independent once again, while still relying on each other for support and encouragement. I have a greater sense of self and identity after living through this year. I know more about who I am and what I want, and more about following after Jesus even when my heart aches each moment.

Since this is intended to be a post about Daryl and not about me, here are ten things I love, love, love about him (and also reasons why I can't wait for May!).

1. He is joyful.

2. He is brilliant.
One of the reasons I began to fall in love with Daryl was because I couldn't beat him in an argument. He stood his ground, and he had support to back up his claims. I was fascinated by his mind, and I still am. During my final readiness review at the Presbytery my committee asked me several theological questions and then remarked at how poised and calm I was in my answers. "Well, I do live with a theologian," I said. "We do this over dinner." This is true. And I love it. I'm never, ever bored in our conversations, and there's always something new that's piqued his interest from his reading or writing that he wants to share. This isn't limited to theology, either. There's philosophy, sociology, biblical history, anthropology, and biology floating around in his head, too. He definitely makes for a great road-tripping partner.

3. He is practical.
I've mentioned this before, but Daryl is the catalyst that makes me go to sleep. One of the worst habits I've developed in his absence is staying up until all hours of the night and dragging my feet on the way to bed. Daryl doesn't think like this. He's mister, "Well, it's time for bed." When we are together he actually brings me my toothbrush as a way to make me head for bed. He knows that once I have to get up and spit, I'll head to bed on my own. It's brilliant, really.

4. He is thoughtful.
I've written before about Daryl's incredible kindness in flying out last minute to rescue our cat. What husband flies hundreds of miles to force-feed a cat? Mine does.

5. He loves Jesus.
Daryl once admitted to me that before he officially decided to marry me, he had one big hurdle to get over. He knew that if he married me, I would follow after Jesus and always, always, always encourage him to do the same. Things that were harder for him, like tithing, would be done because I would encourage them. After we became engaged, I had the same sorts of feelings. Not that either of us was in danger of losing our faith, but marrying someone who is passionate about following Christ is another safeguard our lives of faith. When we are too exhausted to pray, we have someone to pray on our behalf. When we have doubts or concerns, someone is around to help answer them. This was my most basic criteria for a husband, and Daryl meets it 200%.

6. He can cook!
Boy, do I miss this... I grew up with a father and mother who both cooked (and well!), so sharing responsibilities in the kitchen is a sure way to my heart. Cooking me dinner is an even surer way, and when we're together he does this often.

7. He is hilarious.
I miss not being able to fall asleep because we're lying in bed laughing together. Often when one of us has had a bad day and are talking about it, we'll just dissolve into laughter. I mean, think about it, how many bad days are really funny when it comes right down to it? So many times we begin with frustration or irritation and end in giggles.

8. He is giving.

9. He loves sports.
This might sound a little silly, but I grew up with sports on the television often. My Dad is a great lover of sports (according to my mom, he'll "watch anything with a ball"). So to marry someone who is much the same makes me feel really at home. Depending on the season our Saturdays are full of football, college basketball, World Cup games, NBA basketball, or the occasional baseball or hockey game. And I do now what I did as a kid - find something to busy myself with (crochet and crosswords if I'm relaxing, schoolwork if I'm not), and sit with the man of the house. Despite myself I'm almost becoming a fan, too...

10. He loves me.
He really does. Not just on paper. Not just a little. The first thing I do when I wake up is pray. Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his book Life Together writes about the importance of giving God the first and last words in a day, and I agree. So I pray, asking the Lord for guidance, thanking God for waking me up to a brand new day. And then I think about how blessed I am to have such a husband, and how much I can't wait to live with him again... Soon. Very, very soon.

I'll just make it.