Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Off to Virginia!

The iPod roadtrip playlist is created.  My room has been shoved into boxes.  The bags are, well, starting to get packed.  And the board shorts are just waiting to be worn at their appropriate home -- the beach. Two days from now I will be making my way to Virginia Beach (with a nice pit-stop in Athens) for Summer Project!

I'm so looking forward to sharing six weeks with 100 other [CRU] staff and students from around the country!  I'm excited for new friendships, crappy boardwalk food, meaningful conversations, and engaging with others about the things that matter most in life.

Throughout my summer, I'm hoping to frequently update this blog so that you may travel with me.  I just hope your roadtrip playlist is as good as mine. ;)

Thursday, May 20, 2010

A Better Stage

"Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl" ...a book I just cracked open with incredibly low expectations. I mean, after all, it was free. It's not a common thing when free gear ends up being much to brag about. But, this...this book is a treasure.

With language that makes you actually feel like you're on a Tilt-a-Whirl sometimes, your head feels like it's spinning as your mind tries to keep up. N.D. Wilson invites his readers to view their lives as if living in the form of a narrative and likens our world to the Carnival.

He writes, "Step outside your front door and look at today's stage. Speak. God will reply. He will speak to you. He gave you senses. Use them. He will parade His art. He will give you a scene, a setting for the day. He will give you conflict to overcome, opportunities for your character to grow or fail."

How often do I step out my door, onto today's stage, without any regard to this great narrative I've been cast in? All too often.

Lately, I've found myself longing for a better stage. A better setting.
Too often lately, my stage has merely been filled with props, and not fellow characters. Props of facebook, cleaning, books, packing, shopping, laying out. (Wow, to actually write that makes me feel even more shallow). But where's the climax of my days? Most stories' climaxes involve characters and conflicts between them. Who wants to watch a one-person story where all she does is conquer silly props, silly tasks? No one. It's not a good story. People make stories good. Not inanimate props.

I want a better scene. I want to write a better story. I want to speak and wait for God to reply. I want to lose myself in the art He parades around me -- and what more beautiful art has He created than the human?

Friday, May 14, 2010

The Curse

What will we call the curse this year?
"The Elbow?" "The Contract?" "The Lebacle?"

This was supposed to be the year.
But isn't every year supposed to be the year in Cleveland? I mean, afterall, our mantra at the end of every season has become, "that's okay, maybe next year."

Well, as of less than 12 hours ago, Cleveland is found no longer singing their already-pitiful mantra. Our hope has run dry as the suspicions of Lebron's leave have sky-rocketed.

Maybe next year Cleveland, maybe next year. Or not.

Thursday, May 13, 2010


The familiar hills. The familiar scenes and smells. The familiar path. The familiar faces. The familiar winding roads that bring me home.

I'm home for a few days before I leave for a 6-week trip with [CRU] to VA Beach. Every time I visit home, I'm greeted with the smells of warmly lit candles, and something baking in the oven. I'm greeted with my dad meeting me outside, offering to help take in my stuff and my mom enthusiastically exclaiming, "Well, look who it is!"

Home's a funny place, these days, though. Memories flood my mind of Friday night football games, Saturday night hot-tubbing parties, homecomings, volleyball championships, volleyball sleepovers, summer pool parties, sneaking out of study hall to play frisbee, and late-night conversations. Nostalgia, thick as the August air (thank you, Matt Wertz).

As faces appear in my mind of old high-school friends, I think of their 17 year old faces. I think of them in their sports jerseys. I don't think of their new, more mature faces -- surrounded by new husbands, new wives, new children.

Home doesn't fit my soul like it used to. It used to fit tight and snug and just like I was created for this place. And it was good. It felt nice. It felt right. Today, though, it feels like I walked into the store, found my size of jeans, but they just look funny; just don't fit quite right.

And it's not that I long for the days past. I don't. They were sweet, indeed. But, as a matter of fact, I am glad familiarity has been stripped, and the strangeness of surroundings and emotions has filled its place. I don't necessarily feel a sense of establishment I once did. And I like it. It convinces me I wasn't created to call this blue and green sphere shape home.

Cheers to the Moms!

Moms...they're something special, aren't they? I never really thought they were anything special until I was about 18. Okay, I was a little slow at processing that information.

I thought it was a normal "ought" placed on every woman's life to drive me to volleyball every day...to drive my awkward boyfriend and I to the movies in 7th grade...to cook dinner for me nightly...to wash the dishes every time I decided I wanted a snack...to run to the grocery store just because I was craving Pizza Rolls...to sacrifice her weekends for my silly plans...to offer up her home so I could slumber party with my girls...to miss out on hours of sleep so I could stay up into the wee hours of the morning giggling over boys with those slumber party girls...to sacrifice her own new clothes so I could wear the newest and coolest thing...to knowingly allow me to fail and burn the cookies so I could learn...all while gardening, sweeping, helping with homework, doing laundry, mopping, being a wife, etc.

Moms are beautiful; heros, even. They create. They bring forth life. Moms are made in the very image of God Himself.

May we celebrate our moms today. May we make her feel special. Tell her you love her, buy her a flower, take her to dinner, wash the dishes for her. Yay for moms! I don't know how you do it all, but we, as sons and daughters, collectively say thank you. Without you, well, life wouldn't exist.

"I do"

The blogging has begun! And I'm committed. None of that "woop! Sorry, I forgot. Woop! Sorry, I was busy. Woop! Sorry, I didn't feel like it." No more. Consider me puttin' a ring on it. I'm committed. I'm walking down the aisle, committing to this sweet blog. He deserves it, after all, for he has pursued me through the suggestions of many others. "I take you to be my blog. I promise to be true to you. To have and to hold..."