When I'm not riding in the backseat of my Grandpa's restored vintage car "Mable," I'm doing other things like...
rising to most adventure occasions my husband proposes /
chasing our toddler around Brooklyn /
enjoying neighbors, strangers, and friends /
making countless trips to the laundromat /
writing for various publications and for personal reflection /
loving and serving our local church /
cleaning the bathroom /
hosting small and big crowds in our home /
meeting up with a friend for coffee /
thinking
Vocation is my strange frenemy. Though I have worked and existed in many stations/places, I am convinced that each day has good work to be done and that I am equipped and prepared to do that good work.
This blog explores the tension and the intersection of a constant vocational call - to good work, neighbor love, and living in the kingdom come.
My favorite things are coffee and creating and laughing (preferably with company). I love to listen to sermons and read biographies and make tea before going to bed.
“every day won’t be no picnic,
love ain’t no walk in the park.
all you can do is make the best of it –
can’t be afraid of the dark. just know that you’re not in this alone
there’s a place in me that you can call home
whenever you feel like we’re growing apart
let’s just go back, back, back, back, back to the start
anything that’s worth having it’s sure enough worth fighting for”
This morning, I’m in one of those “cup runneth over” kind of moods. I’m sure Vampire Weekend (a band long before the ridiculous and strange vampire craze swept the ocean of tweens all over the world) was not thinking in the same sense when they sang the above song. But, this morning, as I sing out loud these words in my house, I’m kind of dancing to a different love story.
CHRIST is coming! He saw a relationship with me worth FIGHTING for… and that makes my heart feel just the right amount of full. I’ve been watching this Christmas story re-telling on replay and it’s only added to the beauty and mystery… reminding me of the awe with which we should all anticipate Christ’s birth. It’s so simple.
I intentionally didn’t start out my post yesterday with an apology because I wanted to get right into the strangeness of my gym encounter. Today, I want to post an ENORMOUS slideshow to give you an idea of what the last two weeks have been full of: PRESENCE.
Awhile ago, I posted a video from Advent Conspiracy that challenges people to give more meaningful gifts of time and hand-crafted gifts rather than breaking the bank. Here it is again, if you missed it:
I haven’t quite felt up to pounding out life at the keyboard because there’s been a LOT of presence-making! I finally got my handmade gifts off to the States, via someone’s suitcase and now I’m working on finishing up the ones I still need to deliver here. There’s A LOT of baking going on, to be sure. It could be granola, sugar cut-out cookies, pumpkin cake, or a number of other things… but there’s ALWAYS something to do in the kitchen this time of year.
Well, enjoy this slideshow. I hope it lets you peek in and kind of sit with me as I go about being present this Christmas.
I started writing this post a couple hours ago… on a treadmill at the gym (in my mind). I entered the hallway (ahem, I mean gym) like I usually do – with my eyes anywhere but making contact with my late-night workout comrades. With my sneaky, gym-trained eye, I recognized the slow-moving man on the newly installed elliptical and noticed a new face on the bike. I climbed on the treadmill and set my eyes firmly on the serious twin staring back at me in the mirror as I pumped up the workout jams in my Ipod. I pushed some buttons and then focused my gaze on four miles and a painful finish line.
That’s when I realized something strange was happening on the next treadmill. First of all (from what I could gather in a few “where’s-that-clock-in-here?” glances), he had a snazzy looking dri-fit shirt tucked in at his trim waist to long, black workout pants. He, too, was looking at the mirror, but it was as a movie star would make eyes at himself and say, “Looking good!”
That’s not the strange part.
As I kept rhythm with Trevor Davis and Passion Pit, pounding that stationary track, his movements kept pulling my attention away from my steady beat. I started to catalogue these movements as he repeated them… and then I started to get jealous because his workout was DEFINITELY beating my workout on the creativity scale.
Then I realized two things:
1. This guy was not young, but he possessed the same in-shape charm Patrick Swayze (rest in peace) mysteriously mastered for oh-so-long. He managed movements that looked more like a game than the regular tire of a treadmill. With little effort, he seemed to work every muscle group and keep it real with his movie star face.
2. I should take notes.
I kept a straight face, but it was super hard. I just kept to my boring, serious routine… all the while sneaking glances at his different moves. At two miles, I thought I’d seen all he had, but at 4 miles I had to pause Enrique Iglesias and run to the bathroom… where I grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen (providentially stashed away in my purse) and jotted down everything I could remember. So, here are the mostly technical names for Honduran Patrick Swayze’s treadmill workout moves.
the Hitch – This move was subtle – I felt like I could hear Will Smith saying, “Keep it right here” because his shoulders had the slightest sway and I swear his hips were moving. He wasn’t really walking or jogging, because it was more about his arms.
bounce-bench – This move had two variations. The first he was kind of speed walking/bouncing while doing kind of a push-up on the bar in front of him. The second he had his hands on the side bars for more push-ups.
hop-SKIP-kick – This is the initial move that sold me before I saw anything else. This move looked like the dance floor at a wedding feast. So, it was basically just as I’ve named it – a hop, then a skip with the opposite foot, then a kick with the other foot. If it sounds complicated, it certainly is… and I loved it!
air runner – This was like watching a runner in slow motion. Using the side handles, he would make long strides and jump into the air.
push it push it – There is a reason I added another “push it” for the name of this move. He put the work level way down on the treadmill, but then he got into a stance like he was pushing a broken car down the road.
side sweeper – This was one of the surprise moves toward the end of my four miles. He started to swing from left to right while also managing a syncopated rhythm with his feet.
the boxer – This move definitely required the movie star stare in the mirror as well as some well-placed jabs in the air and the shuffle of his feet, alternating at times to run sideways.
I honestly don’t know how any human being could make a treadmill do what I just saw tonight. And that is why I am convinced this Honduran Patrick Swayze was an angel – a fitness angel that came to spice up my workouts. I credit my mom for my restraint, because I wanted so badly to ask about his techniques.
When he left, the slow-moving man was still plodding along and I didn’t have enough gumption to try anything in front of people. When he finally left, I tried out a few of my own, which I’ve called “ska run” and “ballet toes.”
Thank you, Patrick Swayze’s Honduran angel… my workouts will never be the same!!
I just wanted to update you to let you know that playing Nertz at Denny’s (newly opened and strangely popular here – not ghetto at ALL) at 10 pm is what EVERYONE should be doing on Friday night.
No, seriously.
these girls won (even though Lesly was a beginner!!)
I just thought this was worth noting – CUPCAKES have officially passed bacon in google searches this year. This is pretty monumental, because I know people who are as loyal to both sides of this issue. Read this article for the details.
This is probably my favorite suggestion for today: Read this article posted at Desiring God about a divinely appointed taxi ride. Please read it – you won’t be disappointed.
Here's how you play a hand of Nertz!
I love the game Nertz. I love it. Sometimes my love for this card game causes an embarrassing amount of theatrics, but that makes me love it more. So, tonight my friend Sarah and I will endeavor to teach several students how to love the game like we do. Here is a little video sample of one family playing Nertz. I’m pretty sure you’ll love it if you try it!
Lastly, I just found this musician, Kenneth Padgett, via the Desiring God website. He has a project called Joy Eternal where he adapts inspiring, reformed books into song. Take a listen!
I hope your Friday is full of WONDERFUL WONDERFUL things!
I love December. Even though it’s not snowy cold here, the flip of the calendar and the ushering in of advent has a sparkle all its own. I love that December means (if we weren’t before) we’ve all got our gaze fixed ahead in anticipation for something great… something beautiful and lovely and joyous is going to happen.
I just love it. And maybe that’s why my bedroom floor can’t seem to stay clean. It might be a stretch, but I’m going to say it’s because I am looking ahead to times of joyful gatherings and love-drenched celebrations.
this is just a landscape shot of my floor - covered in crafts!
As long as I’m talking about making things and giving them away, I know you’ve all been anticipating the Honduran Horizon newsletter! So, I have good news – HERE IT IS. You can either view it right hereor go to the Honduran Horizon tab at the top of this page to view all the newsletters.
Here are a few other recommendations:
Get some free Christmas music from Amazon right here.
Check out this little piece from Tim Keller on politics and faith, which I always seem to be tangled up in confusion over.
I continue to chew on questions of art/beauty/church/gospel and how they are intertwined – this article about a church in Chicago set off a crazy comment fire (for which I received endless inboxes) and resulted in this follow up article. Both are worthy of a read and if you are really ambitious, look at the comments!
In regards to the above discussion on art and faith, Makoto Fujimura is becoming someone I would really love to meet.
Just to throw in a twist and show I’m totally young and hip and youtube-savvy, check out this crazy video of a girl after she gets her wisdom teeth pulled… pretty funny – especially the RAP (my favorite part!).
Well, I just ate some unbelievable green beans and now I’m on to my main course: popcorn. It’s a whole grain, you know. It’s popcorn, crafts, and filling gift boxes for AFE. Wait… is that my beeping car I hear? Humph. We’ll find out in the morning!
I’ve spilled coffee on my floor too many times to count in the last weeks because it gets lost in the crafts (can I also mention that I’ve tried to drink the water holding my brushes? it’s in a mug and clearly too confusing for me to discern drinkable liquid from crafting liquid)
My battery talks. No, really… it’s like Herbie’s cousin or son or something. It started last week and even though I’ve changed things and consulted people it still happens. I first noticed the beeping and incessant lock/unlock (no it’s not a daftpunk song reference) last week and annoyingly thought it was my friend’s car. When I finally went out to check, I found the car chirping like a bird and the locks raising up and down. That’s right… “possessed” was the first word that came to my mind too. So, I unhooked the battery and slept soundly and confronted it the next day and the next, when it kept doing the same thing! I felt nervous to go anywhere because my car was basically asking thieves to have good timing because it would OPEN up for them! Every night, I unhooked the battery and every morning I connected it again… until it didn’t start one morning and my very helpful neighbors told me it was because my connection was loose (of course, I thought, I’ve been disconnecting it every night!). So, I got it “fixed” by my friend Don Marcos and thought it was all swell… until today Tara and I went to a store and came back out to find my car unlocked. Super weird!
I eat popcorn as a major food group almost as much as I eat chips and salsa. They make up a huge part of my appetite.
I sing while running on the treadmill. I’m sure it’s strange for passers-by, but I can’t help it. Sometimes I get really into the music and if the beat hits at the same time as my feet, there is a good chance I’ll close my eyes and mouth a few words. One time I did just that and almost fell right off the end!
I write raps when I drive… like out loud. I’m not sure if this will make you feel better today, but I know it would give most of my students “pena jena,” which means they are embarrassed for me. I most definitely make up raps and then sometimes I call people and leave rap messages. I feel clever for a few seconds and then I desperately hope they don’t think I’m a freak… and by then it’s too late.
The other day, when talking to one of my UBER-cool friends, she said, “How do you do it?” to which of course I responded, “Do what?” She explained that she thought she was weird, but couldn’t keep it up all the time. Me, on the other hand – I somehow always got my quirks on. It’s true. I wear quirky like it is ALWAYS in style. oops.
Oh, trust me… there are SO many stories. I hope these made you laugh this morning… and also made you thankful you are most definitely more “normal” than me.
When I posted “back from hiatus,” I should have said “update from hiatus” because for the past week I never really got back into the habit of posting. With crafts up to my knees in my bedroom, a long weekend of fellowship, and various other distractions (not to mention a soul in need of a little mending), blogging didn’t top my list.
Now, I find myself with too many things to share. I’ll start by saying I’ve eaten green bean casserole leftovers twice this week. Delicious.
Image via Wikipedia
To be honest, one of my favorite parts of this past thanksgiving weekend was an impromptu singing of the hymn “Count Your Many Blessings” around the thanksgiving table with my makeshift family. We all stood around a table of goodies with our own thanksgiving traditions tucked away in our minds, but when we broke out in song I’m sure the joy burst out from my face.
The next day, starting at 10 am, I started preparing for my own thanksgiving feast. From homemade honey whole wheat bread to green bean casserole to mashed potatoes to turkey to baked apples and (of course) mini pumpkin pies, it was certainly a feast. After the last lovely lady left (after 11), I sat finishing up the pumpkin carving with foil in my hair (funny how older girls still like to play “salon”) and a mountain of dishes in the sink. I can’t explain how wonderfully adult it felt to package up the leftovers of the thanksgiving feast. It’s like breaking out the extra baskets of bread leftover after the feeding of the five thousand… the blessing of the feast just keeps giving!
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
I’m not sure if I shared the right thing just now… but I hope that what you hear is how beautifully blessed I felt. I praise God for the way community can form in unlikely places to build up and encourage in a way unique to our Christian bond.
It’s December 1st. Can you believe it? I’m so tempted to write a long list of ways I am failing and behind and unproductive and misguided these days, but I will refrain.
Here’s a little piece I wrote for the guidance newsletter this month:
My friend went to Kenya in 2008 and found himself surrounded by refugees displaced by civil war.
We all marveled at the pictures and listened to his tales when he returned, but after a while, we found ourselves again caught up in our lives layered with routines and more “important” matters. His experience was forced to fit into phrases like, “Oh, yeah, when you were in Africa…” because we didn’t have time for deeper questions requiring deeper answers.
As we step into this Christmas season, much of our discomfort results from crowded checkout lines and shopping cart traffic jams. Our culture presses in to define this celebration with catchy tag lines and guilt-ridden advertisements enticing us to add another gift to the cumbersome pile.
The joy in the angels’ announcement that filled the sky at Christ’s birth is somehow reduced to greeting cards and cavalier “Happy Holidays” thrown around like plastic swiped in those nifty little machines.
Image via Wikipedia
Is the subject of your holiday adoration worthy of all the discomfort?
As I examine my own motives for crafting homemade gifts, my mind wanders back to my friend who went to Kenya. Maybe we moved on so quickly from his experience because being near to someone’s pain brings a certain suffering to our lives as well.
Thinking about Kenya beyond the powerpoints and post-trip Q & A is… uncomfortable, and we have a tidy way of stuffing uncomfortable stories in the attic while we stuff stockings over the fireplace.
Though we often set them against each other, suffering is not opposite joy. Christ, who for the joy set before Him, endured the great suffering of the cross. When we open our lives and hearts to let the Spirit move in us, we will experience some of the greatest suffering and most abundant joy.
Christmas is both a time to celebrate the joy of a Savior and a time to long for Christ’s appearing as the only response to the suffering around us.
The closer we walk with those who are suffering, the more we will wonder at God’s joy in this season. Who will you choose to walk beside this season, sharing their pain? Great joy awaits, dear sojourner… GREAT JOY!
I wrote this for the past newsletter and thought now was an appropriate time to post as a blog entry. This past week has been hard. Hard and good. It feels like this piece is just as appropriate today as it was a month ago. Not surprising, I suppose.
Maybe it’s the early darkness in the evening or the brisk whip of the breeze… Maybe it’s my imagination of ocean in the air or maybe it is because at this time of year we are all looking for a safe harbor. For whatever reason, my soul’s compass is scanning the shoreline. Whether I’m careening across placid waters in the early morning or waging war against waves in the middle night, my heart is heavy with need.
At times, it feels like I’m bailing out water in the middle of a downpour with a colander. Other times, I rush the bow to flail my arms wide, trying to take in all the beauty at once. What fails to change with emotions or season or temperament, is need.
If I’ve learned anything in my (just recently celebrated) twenty-six years and in my two and a half years here in Honduras, I have certainly learned life is unpredictable. In so many ways, the unpredictability thrills me, like what a ship’s captain must have felt at the start of a journey. This uncertainty also leads me, sometimes gasping for air, straight to the One who holds all things together, singing my favorite song of this season, “Jesus, Savior, Pilot me.”
Reading through 1 Samuel has trained my eyes once again to see God’s faithfulness illuminated against whatever treachery the high seas might heave my way. What I find so beautiful about both the song and the story of King David is very simple: history.
Every single day David crept about in the wilderness, hiding in caves and seeking refuge in foreign cities, God hemmed him in with history. From the intimate times in the mountains as a shepherd to the lop-sided duel with a giant, God’s character remained perfect and unchanged. As David feared for his life and spears flew just shy of his ears, he was keenly aware of his need to depend on God and trust He would be faithful.
My favorite lines in the hymn are several verses down,
“Though the sea be smooth and bright,
Sparkling with the stars of night,
And my ship’s path be ablaze
With the light of halcyon days,
Still I know my need of Thee;
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.”
What David learned in his desperate days he brought with him into the calmer, halcyon hours. In the same way that our need of a Savior never changes, God’s place as Savior is forever.
God is ever behind and before us, not contained by time or our understanding or physical place. God is altogether outside of the evil crashing up against the sides of our vessel, yet intentionally and intimately involved in our safe passage and final destination.
It is history that reminds us of God’s gift of our beginning breaths, of our failure and God’s faithfulness, of our rebellion and God’s invitation to repentance. It is history that boasts the best and only hope in view of our ever-pressing need… a Savior.
I love these stories we carry around like mental felt boards, ready at any moment to reassure us of both our heritage and our inheritance. When we are caught unaware amid boisterous waves or settled back on our haunches, it is history that assures us that no captain ever possessed more power to truly say, “Fear not, I will pilot thee.”
MUSINGS IN THE MIDST 