The Unfortunate Facts of Being an Earthling

Fact#55

2012-01-13T13:08:00.002-06:00

Nothavingaspacebarsucks.

Lotsofupdates,can'twaittotellyou,gettinganewkeyboardtohookuptomylaptoponSunday.

Goshthisisannoying.

Fact #54

2011-12-15T10:11:00.000-06:00

Proactive preparation actually does work.

It's unfortunate, because I am just realizing this now.

Currently, I have just responsibly completed one of the assignments I have due before my J-term class, "Practices of the Minister." This is not what Other Ashley would do. We'll call Other Ashley....Darla. Darla is a brat. Darla always gets her way. Darla lives by Ecclesiastes 3:9, without the context. Darla tells me that Ashley will get the homework done in time, that she's responsible and honest, but for now, doesn't watching Toddlers and Tiaras with Darla sound more fun? And she always wins.

But not this time! I have prevailed! I am on top of things!

Minus Christmas preparation.

Shit.

Fact #53

2011-12-04T19:57:00.001-06:00

Writer's block on finals week is directly proportional to the length of the ABC Harry Potter marathon.

Having a really, really hard time concentrating on my final papers tonight. I have been having a great deal of difficulty concentrating on anything, really.

To know me, and mean truly, deeply know me, is to know that I love stories. A well-crafted story, real or imagined, captures me more than anything, especially lately, in an environment that appears to find them senseless...a waste of time. Sometimes I have to write something down that happened that day, because it felt like it happened so perfectly, it was scripted.

The beginning of mine and Allen's friendship, for example. I left our dorm around 2 am to meet up with a boy, a member of my drama team, who I was concerned about getting along with. We were both very stubborn. Before I left, Bethany asked me if it was wise of me to go, to meet with a boy, let alone a boy I didn't very much like, at so late an hour on a campus notorious for gossip. I shrugged. "It feels like a God thing. Like we'll be friends for a long time after this." The rest, for lack of better phrase, is history.

I feel like I'm drying up in a world that lacks a sense of whimsy. Or adventure, for that matter. I'm not promoting recklessness or a childish response to reality. Maturity is important, absolutely. But I don't think adulthood and maturity are synonymous with one another. In fact, I'm beginning to believe adulthood is a fallacy, created by society to trick us into believing an age bracket makes us mature and gives us certain liberties. Suddenly, potentially harmful activities are for "adults only." Adult language, adult beverages, adult stores...why is any of it necessary?

So I return to my stories, where morals are clear and friendship is lasting. And I bolster myself to create my own, regardless of the skeptical looks and rolled eyes and shaking heads.

Where do you see God working?

I feel like he is altering my perspective on the world. Thing that were important, are suddenly nauseating to think about.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're a spark. Don't lose your light."

How do you see God working?

Unsure again. Sometimes I feel him prompting to speak out on certain things, or in specific situations. When I do, I meet resistance. Usually propelled by fear. When I don't, I leave frustrated regardless. I feel stuck in the mud.

Fact #52

2011-12-01T13:38:00.001-06:00

There is something incredibly satisfying about making a meal out of whatever you have.

Money seems to be a huge concern lately. I feel like God's highlighting it specifically this week, like He's saying, "Still trust me? Now? Now? Do you?"
It has been increasingly frustrating, however, having to watch friend after friend after friend get engaged. We had planned on being engaged by now, but had to put our dreams on hold when Allen's dad passed. It's understandable, it would have been a huge insult to go ahead with it regardless of the tragedy. But now the financial end of that trial is whipping Allen as if he's never been on top of his finances (this is sarcasm, Allen is a bigger workaholic than I am). It's even more frustrating when they started dating after Allen and I, infidelity is known, or they've been on and off for years. Judgmental. I know. But it's really hard not to become increasingly discouraged with each engagement. My best friend just texted me after reading about two others' engagements to tell me that her and her boyfriend are recently planning on being married next fall. When Allen and I were planning on getting married. And they've been dating seven months less than we have.

Again, I get it. Length of said relationship does not dictate the severity and strength of said relationship. It cannot testify to what one is feeling called to do. But I'd be misrepresenting my spiritual boot camp here if I didn't say that I called Allen crying after I received the text. It hurt. I was mad at her, mad at God, mad at everything and everyone. I was also on my period, which I now refer to as "Shark Week" (see link).

It's stretching me, it's growing me, but is also exhausting me. Allen finally ceded to the idea of getting my engagement ring at an estate sale or pawn shop. We argued for a long time about it; he was worried it wouldn't be good enough for my parents, or that some day I'd be embarrassed to wear it. He now understands that I am just not a fan of the rings being produced in popular jewelry stores, they're not my style, nor do they go with anything I own, and I like things that have a story. He admitted that buying an expensive ring for me was a pride issue. I admitted that wanting a cheap ring was to rush the process of getting into his pants. We compromised, him agreeing to look through pawn shops, antique stores, and estate sales, and me allowing him to make the final search, decision, and purchase. All is well.

Still, I feel it gnawing on the back of my mind. I feel like an adult in a child-sized relationship. We have a home, we have jobs, we have simplistic but sufficient security (food, clothing, utilities)...the only thing we lack is the ability to pay for some societal baubles and a ceremony.

When I get angry lately, I have to cook something. I don't always eat it. A lot of the time I store it for lunch for work the next day. But I feel the need to prepare something, anything. Use my resources in a productive way. This waiting for something I can't fix makes me feel like I'm not a good enough Christian woman. I feel like every other unmarried Christian woman I've met is constantly saying, "Oh, some day. I'm content in the waiting. Resting in God is so very satisfying." All I want to respond with is, "Allow me to call you on your bullshit."

I don't think I can chop these onions any smaller.

Where do you see God working?

Patience. Always patience.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're out of onions. Now what?"

How do you see God working?

Giving us alternatives, prompting people to give Allen extra work.

Fact #51

2011-11-30T10:03:00.001-06:00

Expectation will distract you into over-thinking, which paralyzes you.

One day, an ant asked a centipede how he always knew which leg he had to move next. The centipede, perplexed by the question, responded, "Oh...I don't know. I just always did it." Afterward, the centipede began thinking so hard about the question, he couldn't walk anymore.

This was a little fable included in Wiersbe's book (On Being a Servant of God, in case you forgot) that gave me pause. I am that centipede. And that makes me squirm, because I hate centipedes.

When I was a kid, I thought the only thing you could die from was old age. I was watching the news at my babysitter's house; I liked to play "grown up," thinking all grown ups carried briefcases and watched the news, and that was the extent of their day. That night, one of the top stories was a shooting that happened in Green Bay, and a child died having stumbled into it. In my five year old world, the only violence I understood was the acrobatics the Power Rangers used, or what gravity inflicts when tree climbing. "Kimmy...the news is lying. Kids don't die. It's not their time yet."

Her face went grim. "Ashley, honey, unfortunately kids do die sometimes. Bad people do bad things. That man shot those people." I frowned hard at this. "But that's dumb. People shouldn't shoot people." And then Kimmy said something that may have been too difficult for a five year old to reason with. "Well, he was a very angry man. But sometimes people have to do it for protection. Your dad's a cop, and he has to shoot people sometimes."

The a lens on my rose-colored glasses cracked. Daddy shoots people but he protects people but why do other people have to get shot to protect those people because sometimes people make mistakes and maybe if you just put them in a time out they won't do it again but does daddy need to go in a time out for doing his job?

My mind was reeling with this new understanding (or lack thereof). It wasn't fair, in any sense, and I refused to change my mind. I started getting angry when the news was on because I didn't want to have to see more death. The majority of men in my family have served in the armed forces, and I suddenly couldn't trust them. "What would you do," challenged by dad and my grandfather over dinner one night, "if someone was going to stab you to death, but you had a gun. And you could shoot them and get away safely?" I shook my head rapidly (I was around eight at this point), "No. I can't. They're still a person. I don't know why they were going to stab me." They began listing off a few things that could happen, but I couldn't let myself budge. "No. Not fair. I can't. They might change."

Of course, as aging occurs, you become more jaded and frustrated. Thing's aren't so black and white. Lately, though, I feel like being at seminary is forcing me to "re-grow up," almost as if my childhood didn't cover basic understandings of life. Well, except sex. Being in the U.S., I could have been born blind and deaf and still known what sex was.

Through all this re-growth, I am still head butting the same issue: anger and violence. I feel like my understanding of things always fails to penetrate those concepts. I'm meeting people who won't hunt, because it's "violent to the Earth," and feel it is a step back from the stewardship we are called as Christians to do. Conversely, I also go to class with an ex-Marine, who is very much into justice and protection. Heck, Allen just inherited all of his dad's guns (which still make me jump when they make that sharp clacky sound when he opens and closes them, whatever that's called) and wants to teach me how to shoot.

When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was love people and be friends with everyone. I also wanted to be a detective, but that was just because I really liked puzzles, not necessarily for the Dick Tracy-esque action attached. Then, however, I expected everyone to reciprocate. I conducted myself in a particular way to emote a preconceived response. I was kid, my understanding didn't go any deeper. But now that's the trouble. I know that I should love unconditionally and act accordingly regardless of that, but I still want people to do exactly what I expect them to. When they don't, I become increasingly frustrated.

This week I've been realizing that I have no problem loving people I don't know. It's the people I have relationships with that I have the hardest time serving. If figure that, because they know me, or should, at least, than they should know how to treat me. Especially if I know them to be Christians. It's almost like there are levels to my expectation: the more you claim, the more I expect. But I'm beginning to think that grace cannot function where earthly expectation dwells. And that really bites, because essentially this means I am not as graceful of a person as I thought I was.

Where do you see God working?

In my head, sorting my thoughts.

What do you hear God saying?

"Thank you for making time this morning. Let's do it again. Soon."

How do you see God working?

Calmingly feeding me understanding, bit by bit.

Fact #50

2011-11-27T23:12:00.000-06:00

“As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler; solitude will not be solitude, poverty will not be poverty, nor weakness weakness.” -Thoreau

A Thoreau quote seemed fitting for the setting I am in currently. I'm sitting in the dining room, comforted by the quiet company of Cassy and Allen, Gregory Alan Isakov playing faintly in the background. Nothing exciting happened today, nothing adventurous planned for tonight. Just homework and cocoa.

I think, when we look forward, we often expect the future to be epic and romanticized; if it's not, we've somehow failed God's "purpose" for us. We become wrapped up in our imagination so much that we begin rejecting reality. Reality becomes the enemy, rather than a realm in which we see God work.
But right now, in this moment, I'm incredibly content. It's relieving.

Where do you see God working?

Comforting me in this moment.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're going to be okay."

How do you see God working?

Unsure yet. He seems to simply be allowing me to savor this moment.

Fact #49

2011-11-27T17:13:00.000-06:00

Apology gifts should, in my opinion, be based on inside jokes.

I bought Allen a calendar. He received the brunt of my frustration on Friday where is was not completely deserved (though he has conceded to having contributed to a portion of the problem). Regardless, The Oatmeal created a 2012 calendar entitled 5 Very Good Reasons to Punch a Dolphin in the Mouth (And Other Useful Guides) and I knew it had to be his.

Next, I wrapped it in giant coloring pages, mainly because coloring is therapeutic, but also because I am finding fewer and fewer places to store a Princess and the Frog coloring book the size of a refrigerator door.

When he arrived at the apartment, true to form, he had presents of his own (chocolate and a Quillow his aunt made for me). He loved the calendar, though his first response to the coloring page-wrapping paper was, "But we're not black." And it was with those words that I knew everything was back to normal.

I apologize that these are short; I haven't been feeling very deeply introspective as of late. I feel like God's been simplifying my life a lot, almost so the things I have to concern myself with are the things that are immediately in front of me. As tense and exhausting as the past week has been, it's kind of relieving.

Where do you see God working?

In our relationship, re-stabilizing.

What do you hear God saying?

"Not all is lost."

How do you see God working?

Reminding me that, even when I screw up, it doesn't mean he'll take what he's given me away as punishment.

Fact #48

2011-11-25T22:50:00.000-06:00

10% of conflicts are due to difference of opinion and 90% are due to wrong tone of voice.

I've decided I have anger issues. I panic easily, and within that panic, I respond in anger.

I really don't even feel like re-hashing what happened. It's been talked about, resolved...about four times now. Essentially, all you need to know is that I screwed up, and now I'm on the lookout for a good psychologist. I think I inherited a lot of bad habits our family got into. What I know is this: I do not want to be dragging those things into my future. It's too precious to me.

Where do you see God working?

In my heart.

What do you hear God saying?

"Enough."

How do you see God working?

Bringing to sharp relief things I'm falling short on. Anger is my iniquity.

Fact #47

2011-11-14T00:08:00.001-06:00

God never lets you forget your true yearnings.

I think I was going to write about something snarky and intellectual, but God isn't letting me, so here we go.

Last night, while I was working on homework, I got up to make some toast and get my tea. Pandora was playing my Alexi Murdoch station; you can find his music featured in the film Away We Go. Then his song "All My Days" came on.

Well many a night I found myself with no friends standing near
All of my days
I cried aloud
I shook my hands
What am I doing here
All of these days
For I look around me
And my eyes confound me
And it's just too bright
As the days keep turning into night

My stomach lurched slightly. I have been missing Allen intensely the past two weeks. He visits on weekends, and I usually see him on Sundays for church, but every time we have to leave each other, I break down in tears. It may sound incredibly naive, but through the death of his dad and my grandpa...we've become each other's family. I know several people who would balk at that idea; we're not married yet, I get it. But when you both have to watch a family member die...things change. Christians say sex changes everything, and yeah, not about to debate that, but death does too. And I would argue that the change is, while not the same, just as intense. When he leaves the apartment, all feelings of home and belonging leave with him. And it's not something that can be recreated with a few game nights and study parties.

So I was in the kitchen, and those lyrics wafted in, gripping my heart and twisting my stomach. I set my toast down and set my hands on the countertop.

Now I see clearly
It's you I'm looking for
All of my days
Soon I'll smile
I know I'll feel this loneliness no more
All of my days
For I look around me
And it seems He found me
And it's coming into sight

Immediately, my stomach filled with butterflies as I had a flash of vision that I can't explain as being an imagined thought. Nothing fancy, no intense color or seraphim...just a family, two parents, four kids, sitting in their living room, reading and playing a board game. The thing that stuck was a feeling of intense warmth and fulfillment. I fell to my knees in the middle of the kitchen, head bowed, hands clasped, eyes brimming. "God, if that is meant for me, thank you," was all I could utter. And to my core I felt I was answered.

As the days keep turning into night
As the days keep turning into night
And even breathing feels all right
Yes, even breathing feels all right
Now even breathing feels all right
It's even breathing
Feels all right

Where do you see God working?

I really don't know currently. All I want is to be married at this point, but we can't afford to. We've been trying to focus on the joy of being able to continue to grow, but it's getting harder and harder the busier and farther apart we get.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're throwing out what's good for you. Stop. Go back."

How do you see God working?

Patience. Always patience. Not a fan.

Fact #46

2011-11-12T16:49:00.001-06:00

Play should never be sacrificed to the mirage of adulthood.

While the rest of our friends are getting married, starting families, solidifying careers...my roommates and I decided our main concern was finding the perfect apartment pet. Enter Ralph:

Cassy texted me last night and asked what I would do if she brought home a bunny. My response? "DO IT."

So she did. So today, Ralph and I decided to have a photo shoot.

I can't get over how adorable he is. Screw becoming a cat lady. Bunny lady all the way.

Dr. Price said he believes we don't play in ministry enough. He's a huge into learning new games from people. "Everyone likes to burst in through the front door of ministry. I prefer the side door. It's usually by the kitchen." I couldn't agree more.

I've found more and more lately that it is so easy to lose our playful nature. We become jaded, frustrated with the consistent struggle of providing for ourselves and upholding responsibilities. How much of the work we put upon ourselves in necessary, though? A lot of ministry we do is in the day to day, not in the huge events we prepare, the sermons we write, or the people we correct. It's in the play.

So I play.

Where do you see God working?

In my understanding of the function of money.

What do you hear God saying?

"Take only what you need. Don't go overboard. It'll trap you."

How do you see God working?

Keeping me from jobs that'll take precedence over daily ministry and preparation for ministry. Providing the bare minimum so I learn how to function with the essentials. Throwing me a few small diversions to remind me simple is brilliant.

Fact #45

2011-11-11T19:36:00.001-06:00

Redemption is not pitted against creation.

I've been really proud of myself lately. I haven't brought my laptop to a single class (a habit that took a lot of willpower to break out of) and have actually felt myself grasping concepts I never could before. My lack of computer usage, however, has also made my notes look like this:

The pictures, I suppose, stimulate my brain more and keep me awake...and some of them actually have to do with class, but when you catch yourself drawing suicidal leaves in fall and Jesus as Super Baby complete with cape...

Oy.

A couple of classes ago, we were talking about the doctrine of creation. Essentially, we were discussing what the point of creation was, if people were beginning to think that salvation/redemption was for abolishing what God created. Many are under the impression (based on a few off-campus discussions I've had) that God created a perfect world, Adam and Eve screwed it up, we were left to a crappy version of it, Jesus came to give us hope of the day in which he would come back, get his followers, blow it up, then make a new one. Because of this understanding, people then assume that the laws and commandments we have had for centuries are also corrupt, so through Jesus we no longer have to follow them.

Of course, if you were to argue, "So we're allowed to murder now, eh? Good, that librarian was a right wen-" they would slap you upside the head and send you to the nearest psychiatric ward. Question their own sins (lust, dishonesty, pride, sloth, etc) and they offer that they are free through Christ's sacrifice. Seems a bit like hypocrisy. To clarify, I'm certainly not suggesting it's kosher to go around murdering people because we'll be forgiven via proper repentance.

Romans 6:15-20

What then? Are we to sin because we are not under law but under grace? By no means! Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness. I am speaking in human terms, because of your natural limitations. For just as you once presented your members as slaves to impurity and to lawlessness leading to more lawlessness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness leading to sanctification.

The habit people get into, I think, is qualifying sin by comparing it to sin. "This is all going up in flames eventually anyway, so my sin isn't so bad...it's not breaking the law, at least." What they don't realize is that it's eating away at them, and they won't recognize true salvation until they give that over to Christ. Salvation, from my experience, is a continual process, not a singular moment. Some may have a "conversion experience," as I had, but none of us will be perfect, devoid of sin complete, until God is finished with us. And recognizing our natures, that'll take...just short of forever.

The Law was not abolished through Jesus, but rather given to man as a tool to recognize his own frailty and perversion. God never made a "sin pyramid" for us to function within the limits of, purity is not something easy to come by, but that doesn't mean we should allow both understandings to render us complacent.

Where do you see God working?
Through my online class, lately. Really hammering a lot of understandings I could never grasp before.

What do you hear God saying?
"Don't allow others' pride to bait you into your own."

How do you see God working?
Rapidly, wonderfully, now that I'm open to it.

Fact #44

2011-11-10T22:38:00.001-06:00

It's easy to underestimate who God made you to be.

I retreat, and very quickly. Like a cowardly ninja.

Upon my arrival to seminary I was extremely exited...and petrified. The idea of my ignorance being revealed is possibly my greatest fear. I am no brilliant theologian, nor am I advanced in years to credit any "wisdom" I may happen upon and luckily regurgitate in some eloquent fashion. This idea fastened itself soundly to my heart as I met others in my classes who, now thinking about it, could have very well been worried about the same things. But in my clouded lens, they all appeared to be intellectual adversaries of whom I had to conquer...one by one...systematically, and with a reassuring "Christian" smile.

In confessing my fears to Allen, Janèe, Dougal, and others, they reassured me that, while others may be stuck in their doctrine, argue and condemn, look down on the younger student (i.e. me), that God put me here for a reason, that honesty is all I could offer, and that it was up to me to then be honest rather than "right," whatever that looked like.

So I set mind and focused on being just that: honest, not "right." I continued on with my studies, and instead of balking at an idea I would receive that would be contrary to a strongly promoted idea of one of my peers, I would offer it, humbly, but honestly. And if I saw another student's idea that I found compelling, I would tell them so and thank them for it, whether I agreed with it in the end or not. It's an intimidating place to be, where they ask you to send your very soul's conviction into a ring of others', seeing which survive. Some people have grown up with a very specific, laid out foundation; I was lucky enough to have to create one myself, via trail and error. Thank God the Spirit led me to solid people and convictions.

Somehow, in the process of learning how to do this, today someone told me I actually changed their way of thinking about some pretty hefty theological reasoning. My mouth fell open; this man had run the Bible college odyssey, was a fair bit older than me, and had a thorough knowledge of theologians and their claims. It would not have surprised me if he could have performed the entire Bible as a theatrical monologue. And he was telling me that I changed his thinking. God is showing me how to listen, so his message can be spoken through me. Wow.

Needless to say, things are looking up.

Where do you see God working?
In my time; He's making me more and more aware of how I'm spending it, pushing me to get things done way ahead of time so I can actually enjoy the free time He is blessing me with.

What do you hear God saying?
"Wait. Rest. Restore."

How do you see God working?
Giving me motivation, running alongside me, highlighting exactly what I need to see, and, in doing so, making homework an exciting task, of all things.

Fact #43

2011-11-07T00:27:00.001-06:00

I need more canvas.

I am running out of surfaces I'm allowed to paint on. It's not like I'm making priceless works of art; I do this for catharsis. Compared to what a lot of my friends are capable of painting, my results look like I had a seizure. That's what I get for having art majors for friends. Oy. Vey.

But again, I do it because I know it's not something I can perfect. Acting, sure, because God has revealed to me that it is something He has gifted me. Painting, probably not. But that's what makes it vulnerable, and genuine, and raw. It's not a performance, I can't gloss over a mistake. It's like it's my brokenness is being made tangible and now I have to confront it and pray over it.

I definitely need more canvas.

Where do you see God working?
I feel like he's closing a lot of doors, and waiting for me to fully turn away from them before he opens the new ones.

What do you hear God saying?
"That chapter is done. Turn around, beloved."

How do you see God working?
As I let go of each thing one by one, he's allowing me to live more fully where he has put me, i.e. at seminary.

Fact #42

2011-11-06T23:49:00.002-06:00

Truth is Truth.

I had a friend ask me a question. I did not immediately know the answer, but suggested we ask my pastor. Her response was, "Right...but he's pretty conservative being Southern Baptist, right?"

At the time, I had no retort, no witty response or wise counsel. I nodded dumbly and changed the subject. And that was fairly cowardly of me.

Truth is truth, God is all truth, and I certainly don't consider God to be partisan to any sort of political charge. There is no "liberal" or "conservative" truth. We can't brand it, manipulate it, or assign it. Doing so keeps it from being what it is. And if it is no longer truth, then the argument becomes moot...that is to say...no longer fact.

I had a high school teacher tell me once that it was foolish to argue about facts. At the time, I didn't understand her advice. It didn't make sense that anyone would argue about something that was obviously true or false. But this is where Satan thrives. Suddenly, what is black and white he makes grey. And not just a few things.

You'll notice it with some people. They'll start off the strongest of Christians, maybe not so gifted in tact, but always passionate. Then, after awhile, they fall into a routine...don't read their Bible as often, go to church most of the time...maybe join a small group with an interesting topic. I'm guilty of this, I'm describing a lot of my past behavior. But, given enough time, they haven't been in a strong routine of accountability, study, or worship. And then a few concepts become grey. Lying...totally acceptable if it's for the "greater good." Lust...fine if it's just a thought. Marriage...not so sacred. Bible...less inspired than previously thought. Jesus...probably more human than God.

A few of you may be thinking, "Yeah...way to hop up on that soapbox." I'm not attempting to jump from one conclusion to another. You would genuinely be surprised as to how many times I have seen this pattern occur. It starts off with a tiny little thread. Then they pick and pick and pick...until their whole understanding of faith is unravelled.

Questioning is not wrong. Being lukewarm is scarier than being cold; at least when you're cold towards faith you know dang well where you stand. But when it comes to the point of not wanting to hear truth because you can no longer recognize it, even when its straight from the scripture you profess to believing...we have a problem.

Pray for my patience.

Where do you see God working?
In my heart, giving me courage to speak up where I see false teaching.

What do you hear God saying?
"Trust me. I will tell you. Listen and trust."

How do you see God working?
I feel like I'm being trained for a spiritual marathon. It's just one thing after another, lately. I love that my friends feel they can come to me, but...I'm not God.

Fact #41

2011-11-02T10:54:00.001-05:00

"Your heart grows by giving out, but your mind grows by taking in." -Warren W. Wiersbe

I know I haven't featured Wiersbe's book (our textbook for this class) here much at all, but arriving to Chapter 19 I finally found myself nodding emphatically and wanting to take the man to coffee.

1) He praises Thoreau. Anyone who sees the merits of that man is a friend in my book.

2) He breaks down the "large library" myth. If you know me, you know that I have dreamed of my future library since I was exposed to Beauty and the Beast. All of you know what scene I'm talking about. The Beast opens up huge double-doors inside the castle, revealing an enormous, dark room. Keeping Belle's eyes covered, he begins opening curtains, revealing domed ceilings with towers of books reaching all the way to the top. And of course, when she is allowed to look, her mouth drops open, just as mine does every time.

Now, granted, I know there is no way I'll ever be able to afford even the acreage to cover a room to that scale, but I do have a fairly formidable urban-sized version planned. And after reading this chapter, I realized it contained books I probably wouldn't touch after reading them, or half-reading them. I'd tell myself Allen or the kids (someday) will find use of them...someday. But that's a habit of mine. I pack-rat things away, thinking I'll use them as costumes or props too...but of course that never happens. If I do another show, I know God will provide us with the necessary materials. He doesn't want me to live burdened by bulk. And...as much as it kills me to say...an unnecessarily large library, even though trendy, may be more trouble than it's worth if not built with great consideration.

3) As Robert Murray M'Cheyne states, "Beware of the classics. True, we ought to know them; but only as chemists handle poison--to discover their qualities, not to infect their blood with them." Yes, it is wonderful to find merit in a large selection of books, but some, as he describes, "aren't the best tools in your hands." He hardly suggests that you are not smart enough to read certain books; more of facing the reality that some things resonate with you more than they will others.

I realize this isn't a revolutionary idea, but I certainly never applied it myself. I praised the classics without actually thoroughly reading through them myself. I love Pride & Prejudice....the movie. I could read The Old Man and the Sea a million times...so long as I'm in a coffee shop. I've been planning to read The Kite Runner...for three years.

I would read anything someone tossed my way, especially in ministry. And when asked, especially in leader meetings, what we "got out of it," I would totally make something up, usually something I read in another book. Luckily no one asked me for a page number...and now I'm wondering if it's because a few of them were doing the same thing.

I have been worshipping intellect and presumptuous book collecting for a long time without considering what I actually like. That ends today. But to be honest, I'll probably watch Pride & Prejudice first.

Where do you see God working?
In my head, today.

What do you hear God saying?
"Be diligent in your work this morning. I have things to show you."
Okay...so no Jane Austen today. Check.

How do you see God working?
We'll see. Unsure yet.

Fact #40

2011-10-31T02:00:00.001-05:00

Things never go as you plan.

This is going to sound crazy-odd, but, had I had my way the first time, Allen and I would not be celebrating our real one-year anniversary at this very moment.

Thank God I lost.

I don't think I could live without this brand of insanity.

Where do you see God working?

In this relationship, for sure.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're welcome."

How do you see God working?

Teaching Allen and I how we function differently, so we can communicate and work together even better.

Fact #39

2011-10-30T23:59:00.001-05:00

"When it is dark enough, you can see the stars." -Charles A. Beard

This was a quote featured in the book we're supposed to be reading for my Formations class. I haven't quoted anything from it, because amidst all of the other thought-provoking material I have been bombarded with the past month, the devotional On Being a Servant of God by Warren W. Wiersbe struggled to stay at the forefront of my mind. It's not a bad read, though.

It's been plenty dark here, as you've been reading, and my mind's already rebelling at the understanding that it'll be winter soon. Less daylight = more insanity. I honestly balked at the idea of leaving my weekend vacation with friends to go back to the seminary. Having felt attacked spiritually, emotionally, and now mentally from all sides, the idea of giving up was, for the first time in a long time, starting to look like a rational possibility. Maybe this seminary thing wasn't for me. Maybe I should actually become a waitress, act on the weekends, passing along my screenplays for wary producers to read while I refilled their coffees. Maybe the ministry assessment guy was right. I am simply not strong enough.

No.

Whenever someone outright told me "you can't," "too hard," or "you're not x-y-z enough," it hits a point where I'm ready to give in, then someone, be it Bekah, Bethany, or my mom says, "You're kidding, right?" and I go through with the plans, as scheduled, only to realize if I hadn't something profoundly God-centered occurs. Pursued acting, won an award, spurred me onto Judson, despite skeptics due to my appearance. Wrote Judson's first "serious one-act," inspired mass theological discussion on campus even thought my co-leader tore it down the night before our performance. Applied to Northern and for a scholarship, received both against all odds. God revealed himself to me and to others in each. I believe God would have completed his work had I decided not to do any of these things...but then I wouldn't have been gifted such unforgettable experiences. And I'm pretty sure God wants his children in on the adventure.

So, regardless of my feet dragging, I came back. I put my things away, went to John, Rick, and Dougal's to watch some Dr. Who, and realized that, even if the gradual dark is disconcerting and causes me to fumble about, once I settle, it's actually pretty peaceful. And one by one, the stars start revealing themselves.

Where do you see God working?
In solidifying my relationships here, at seminary, so I feel supported, not condemned.

What do you hear God saying?
"Rest in me."

How do you see God working?
By bringing up difficult subjects so I learn how to lean not on my own understanding.

Fact #38

2011-10-29T16:43:00.001-05:00

There's a fine line between conviction and condemnation.

"I want you to seek out a clinical psychologist. Your depression is making you feel sorry for yourself."

My heart felt like an invisible hand were attempting to quiet it as it pound through my sternum. After bashing my church, skeptically looking at my personality results, suggesting tact was really a lack of assertiveness, and disregarding my own attempts at mental wellness, he drops the D-bomb on me.

I had been aware of my tendency towards melancholy since Sophomore year of high school. There was a reason sought out a mentor, Bekah, checked into a counselor for awhile, read books on conditions, and sought out strong friends. There was also a reason I got the heck out of dodge, moving to an unfamiliar place to force myself out of my comfort zone, show myself I could succeed independently instead of allowing myself to feed off of the superiority I downright harvest in Kewaunee. I haven't been studying the book Spiritual Depression for three months for jollies. There is a reason this blog is titled "The Unfortunate Facts of Being an Earthling" instead of "Golly, I Love Life." This world is broken, I am broken, and I recognize that. I'm not about to lie to any of you.

So when he so blithely commands that I see a clinical psychologist, that I have clinical depression, I could not help but think, "Well, no shit Sherlock."

That's why I'm in seminary. To grow and armor myself so I don't allow it to seep into any ministry I go into. I focus on the humor in these unfortunate facts because light does shine through the cracks. And I thank all of you for your encouragement, letters, and the occasional package (thanks Megan).

I don't think it's wrong to yearn for community, or to be honest when you feel stuck, or recognize that some classes you just don't have a voice in yet. When I told my roommate, Caitlyn, how the assessment went, she laughed. "You? Not assertive enough?" Then she prayed over me, asking God to refill me with love, and assurance in my calling. And as the day went on, the dark clouds lifted, one by one.

I don't want to outright dismiss what the counselor had to say. Perhaps I should check into a psychologist, just to keep me accountable of my head. But I can't let this assessment allow me to forget that I received a full ride here for a reason. God wouldn't be leading me into ministry if he thought I'd royally mess people up. Dr. Quicke wouldn't tell me I had a "brilliant interview" if he thought I was incompetent or self-serving. And I wouldn't be sticking this out if I felt sorry for myself every day. I listen to show tunes, for crying out loud.

Ah, the joys of clinical skepticism.

Where do you see God working?
In my mind, bolstering it against condemnation.

What do you hear God saying?
Ephesians 4:29-32

How do you see God working?
With my support network outside of seminary, reassuring me I'm not crazy.

Fact #37

2011-10-27T15:50:00.001-05:00

We can't possibly know everything.

I have been witnessing a lot of heated debates about the usual trending church topics: women in leadership, homosexuality, literal Bible reading, etc, etc...etc. And you know what's missing from every single one of those debates?

Grace.

I have plenty of opinions and convictions about all of the following and then some, but I rarely communicate them unsolicited. Conviction is meant to be considered and prayed about and researched. It is not meant to be wielded with careless abandon. And this is not another seminarian rant; I'm seeing it everywhere.

I feel like I'm white-knuckling my grasp on the fundamentals of Jesus' ministry as people attempt to rip me away from it to see things their way. Since when did our options become enemy or lobbyist? "You're either for us, or you're against us." Uh, how about I'm not interested until the vein in your forehead quits pulsing?

Where do you see God working?
In my heart, as I discern what is a salvitic issue...and what is just annoying as hell.

What do you hear God saying?
"Stop living inside your head. Hold on to your childlike faith. Eyes on me."

How do you see God working?
Highlighting where Satan is attempting to divide, showing how to make peace, rather than simply keep it.

Fact #36

2011-10-25T09:32:00.001-05:00

There are Pharisees at seminary.

I have a tendency to worship intellect more than God. It's gotten better, as God has been revealing himself to me through things outside of the seminary...but outside of the seminary is not where my problem is.

One would think, after studying the Bible and doctrine and ministry all day, that you'd grow to be more patient and kind and loving. Heck no, techno.

"That's undergrad thinking."

"Oh, but is it class-interesting, or small group-interesting?"

"He wrote a good book, but he only teaches undergrad."

It's come to the point where I'm afraid to have friends visit, worried that they'll just be torn down. Some of the most wise people I have met don't even have a basic college education, let alone experience in master's level coursework. But they're still brilliant at what they do. Yet those things aren't being respected. It's as if they believe that the only way God recognizes you is if you work in a church, or work in affiliation with a church. If that's true, I'm probably going to hell.

The term "pharisee," you probably recognize. They're featured in the New Testament regularly as pompous bigots who stomped all over Christ's ministry. In Hebrew, prushim means "separated." In Arimaic, pĕrīshayyā means "separated ones." In Christianity, while we are set apart, I don't think God called us to be separated. And yet it's all I'm seeing.

Psalm 19:7

The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul; the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple.

Proverbs 3:7

Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD, and turn away from evil.

Romans 12:16

Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight.

In my theology class, Prof. Bacote said, "Grace turns information into wisdom." Grace is easy for God, who is grace, but we do have to try. It is essential to our faith, it is demanded from our ministry. I struggle with it (see Fact #35) plenty, but I do see enormous cause for concern here. When I didn't feel welcome here right away, I assumed it was just me. Now I'm wondering.

Where do you see God working?
In my discernment. He's showing me who may be acting this way out of brokenness, and telling me to care for them gently. He's also showing me who should know better by now. Those...I have a feeling me might prompt me to speak against. With just as much tact and care, of course, but probably not with a hug.

What do you hear God saying?
"Careful with this one. You're right, but come to me first. Patience...patience..."

How do you see God working?
He's begun blessing me with several strong women-friends. We realized we were struggling very much in the same way, and it's calming to know I have a support network closer by.

Fact #35

2011-10-24T01:32:00.001-05:00

Love doesn't always feel good.

Allen and I celebrated our 1 year anniversary ten days early, because we're both too busy next weekend. We started Friday, with Mothership organic beer (which is a fantastic must-try) biscuits and gravy (they make vegetarian gravy now, so I was safe), puzzles, and an attempt at homemade crème brulèe. I say attempted, because I realized halfway through I didn't have a torch for the crispy top, which in my opinion, is a necessity. Either way, it's good, but so rich you can only have three bites a day, otherwise you feel like Violet Beauregarde.

Yesterday we got up early to make the 9:05 am train to Chicago, to go to a film festival being held at the Gene Siskel Film Center. The film(s) we were planning on seeing didn't start 3pm, but we wanted to get a head start to take some photos, grab lunch and have tea at Argo, maybe bum around a few shops beforehand.

Of course, most of that never happened.

Regrettably, I am quick to anger. It's not something I'm proud of, but it is a huge hitch in this whole "being a Christian" thing. And while both Allen and I woke up on time, we did not make it to our train due to our differences in interpretation of the phrase "on time."

Allen's "On Time": Leave with the exact amount of time it takes for you to walk in at scheduled time.

My "On Time": Leave with a 30 minute cushion for Murphy's Law, an hour if it's a stressful situation, i.e. job interviews, meetings with profs, family functions, etc.

We left for Allen's "On Time." We arrived at the station, unsure of parking or layout, with five minutes to spare. Bolting up the stairs, I realized we parked in a "Residents Only" space. Allen sprinted to the car, and I waited on the other side of the tracks. Five minutes later, he returned. "You have my wallet." He grabbed it and laughed, sprinting back to move the car and pay for our space. As he did so, the train arrived. I called him.

Me: "Allen, the train's here. You need to run under the bridge and get to my side."

Allen: "Wait, what?" (sprinting sounds) "I'm coming as fast as I can."

Me: "A man next to me said to tie my shoe to stall them. Please hurry."

Conductor: "Whoever you're waiting for better hurry up...we got a schedule to keep."

Me: "Allen, they're going to leave. Please hurry."

Allen: (Click.)

Conductor: (Impatient look.)

Me: Frustrated noise. "Go. Just...go."

Train leaves.

Allen was on the other side of the train. I exploded. "Why can't we...ever...be on *cussing* time?! Why?!" I stormed off, knowing my rage was unwarranted and I was a loose cannon. There were witnesses, of course, as any good tantrum requires.

Time, for whatever reason, is infinitely important to me. Waste mine, and you're a thorn in my side. Poor Allen was mine from the moment the train left.

He didn't catch me until I made it back to the car. We sat there, in thick silence, as I closed myself off and he hypothesized what he could have done better. Allen makes the best of things, and I critique the worst of them. It's how I knew I should date him; other guys I dated were just as pessimistic and hyper-critical as I was. Past relationships were destructive from the inside and out. Allen sparred me without fighting. He lets me rampage until I run out. And it's what he was doing this time, and it was driving me nuts.

Eventually, of course, I did chill out, and we found a hometown diner to sit at and wait for the next train. We talked out the morning, I apologized, after some coffee, and became determined to have a restart. "Well, at least we got our one mess up for the day complete."

Wrong. Dead wrong.

Several forgotten ids, overdrawn accounts, and missed appointments later, we came back home, hungry, tired, and defeated.

He and I both knew regardless of the frustrations of the day, they revealed a great number of things we had never noticed about our relationship that we had let slide, and much to our unaware detriment.

For example, we stopped communicating spiritually. We had had basic, "How was your day?" "What's going on at seminary/Judson?" "What did you think of the sermon?" conversations, but we had failed at asking the intentional question of "How is your soul doing today?" When we got to it, it was like I was meeting Allen all over again.

It opened up a lot of old wounds we thought we'd settled, because, believe it or not, couples argue, even the good ones. There were tears and more yelling (on my part) and hard truths being pulled out that both of us thought we buried well within ourselves. God was working and it was a bitch.

Somehow, after a lot of hugging, prayer, and grace (on Allen's part) we came out determined to work and grow. This was hard for me to wrap my mind around, at first, because I had become so used to huge moments like this ending in a break up. Instead, it ended in us attempting to eat the rest of our homemade cème brulèe, realizing without a crispy top, it hardly seems finished.

And so goes our relationship. Unfinished, but still sweet enough to make you puke.

Much like this ending.

Where do you see God working?
In my pride and anger, slowly drawing it out like poison.

What do you hear God saying?
"I still love you. But this will hurt."

How do you see God working?
By prompting Allen to tell me when I'm getting out of hand.

Fact #34

2011-10-19T19:39:00.001-05:00

God doesn't let things lie until He's done with them.

This can be a wicked-frustrating thing; luckily this time is brilliantly awesome.

You know that song I said was playing when I was prompted by God to see what I was painting? Ìllgresi? These are the lyrics, translated from Icelandic to English:

You sleep till noon
You die but come to life
The leaves change their colours

You ache - get up and dress
In a raincoat - you keep going into the bleak day

You tear out heart-roots that you stamp on
With your hands in your pockets, been through enough
Walking in wet grass until

It shines on me through the branches
I look up and revive - the leaves change their colours

We feel warmth, create roots
Undress our hearts
We head towards a good day

We plant and we give life and we blossom
With our hands out of the pockets in earth you delve
Now we remove an ugly thought

Time will heal all things, gives life, kindles fires
Flames of the soul
No longer cold, start life again
My soul comes to life, paints the world

I don't have any words right now. I'm still processing in awe.

Where do you see God moving?
In all art, drawing me into a new sense of worship.

What do you hear God saying?
"I save the kicker for last. You're on a grand adventure."

How do you see God moving?
With things I don't understand right away.

Fact #33

2011-10-18T09:13:00.001-05:00

"Art is a collaboration between God and the artist, and the less the artist does the better."
-Andre Gide

Last night I had a major God-moment. I'm still kinda reeling from it, so bear with me as I muddle through it.

I had been feeling a strong urge to paint for the past couple weeks, but "couldn't find the time." You know the excuse; you actually have plenty of time, but Glee sucks you in with its catchy mash-ups and trendy conflict. The reason, I now believe, I hadn't yet was because I wasn't ready to touch grandpa's paint set.

Dad bought grandpa a really nice paint set for a past birthday, but never had a chance to use it because his health tanked so quickly. Grandpa was a great advocate for the arts, even if he projected more John Wayne than Van Gogh. He had all of his kids involved in some sort of artistic expression, for my dad it was dance. Grandpa himself was a painter. His subject was usually seascapes, or at least, those were the only ones I had ever seen growing up. We had one in our house for the longest time, before the divorce. It was the beach, I think possibly by Lake Michigan, with a disgruntled looking seagull bracing himself against the wind on a dock pole. On the bottom, right-hand corner, "Bill" is scrawled in all caps.

I couldn't bring myself to use the set because it contained too much of grandpa, the core of grandpa, the grandpa I was privileged to know, and I didn't feel worthy to try something he was so good at. But last night God prompted me to the point where I couldn't ignore it anymore. I got out the set and placed it carefully on a bar chair from the dining room, in front of the window. It was night by then, but it still felt necessary to paint light despite the dark. And in a way, it kept me from simply replicating something that was already there. I had thought and argued with myself all day what it was I should paint, and now that it was out, I decidedly landed on keeping my mind as blank as the canvas. I set my laptop on the table, and began the Sigur Ros album I just purchased, Med Sud Ì Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust (look for the one with naked people running in a field), and began praying as I slipped open the acrylics drawer.

What I assume was God prompted me to grab spring and emerald greens, deep brown and mellow beige. I paused to take in my palette. Scrape brown smear green. Broad commands, but I followed to the best of my ability. Add orange more red beige to the corner no too much back to dark brown now spread that out with emerald dot white and yellow more on top...

It went on like that for three hours. When I got stuck, I paused to pray again.

Halfway through, the song Ìllgresi started, and for some reason, the words "indian summer" drifted in and out of my mind. I stopped painting to listen. Look... I opened my eyes and looked at the painting, and immediately had a lump in my throat. I was looking at a wooded path in the fall, light coming through the trees. Grandpa's favorite season was fall, but he always called it "indian summer." In my gut, I felt like God was showing me his side of heaven. I put down my materials and sat on the couch, crying. Not tears of upset. Tears of joy.

When grandpa died, I focused on healing, skipping over actual grief. It felt like I allowed skin to heal over shrapnel, and God was now pulling it out. It hurts now, but you'll heal fully this time.

The painting's still sitting on the chair. I haven't touched it again yet. It doesn't feel finished; I'll wait until I'm prompted again.

Where do you see God moving?
In talents and interests I haven't allowed myself to exercise since high school.

What do you hear God saying?

"He's safe. You're safe. We're both proud."

How do you see God moving?
In nostalgia, realized.

Fact #32

2011-10-17T15:41:00.001-05:00

We all fall short.

We're all sinners. I know. Scary thought, once you recognize it.

No one, not even your husband/wife/honorstudent/favoriteuncle gets away with this one. We've all screwed up, we all continue to screw up. And I'm not going to give you the warm fuzzies and tell you that's okay. It's not. Sin separates us from God, and separating yourself from God is embracing death. Unfortunately, it is impossible for us to be perfect, and yet we expect each other to be. "Give me grace, while I guilt trip you for your faults."

I started falling into this mentality a couple days ago. Well, no, scratch that. I've probably always thought this way, and I'm just beginning to recognize it now. A friend said something that hurt me, and immediately I was putting on the war paint. Dougal, being a native Scotsman, would kill me for this illustration, but think Braveheart. I was William Wallace, and I was on a murderous rampage deep within my soul.

Luckily, God prompted me to text Anna and Bethany, call Allen and my mom, and run over to John and Dougal's before I talked to my friend. I needed the counsel of six people before my rage was checked.

And people say community is overrated.

The point is, I wasn't recognizing that my anger, while maybe justified, was definitely not righteous. She didn't know she had upset me, and I never knew this person to be vindictive. But I let my anger overpower my reason and my relationship.

Matthew 5:21-26
"You have heard that it was said to those of old, 'You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.' But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, 'You fool!' will be liable to the hell of fire. So if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift."

After I calmed down, and John and Dougal prayed over me, I went to my friend with a renewed sense of peace. We talked, and we were both open and honest. And I would say, from my vantage at least, that we're actually better friends because we talked.

Some of us are prone to great anger and messy conflict, and some of us are more comfortable with quiet acceptance and avoidance. One appears to be "more Christian," but neither is productive.

Check your frustrations, give them over to God, and communicate.

Where do you see God moving?
In my relationships with my roommates. He's growing and stretching us, and we're learning how to live and forgive, sin, baggage, and all.

What do you hear God saying?
I was listening to Sigur Ros' "Festival" before I answered this question, and I don't speak or read Icelandic, but for some reason, one of the lyrics being repeated sounded like he was singing, "I have solved it all...I have solved it all..." I know for a fact that that's not what it means, as I looked it up to be sure, but the thought is comforting, and true of God where this subject is concerned anyway. If you're interested in the actual lyrical translation, you can click here.

How do you see God moving?
In music and acrylic paints, for today. Actually gonna bust out grandpa's paint set today. Big step.

Fact #31

2011-10-17T01:00:00.001-05:00

Community is essential.

That's right, you introverts. You done need people too.

Community is something that has been on my mind a lot lately. My next John's roommate Dougal and I were discussing sub and counter-cultures a couple of nights ago. It was fascinating, hearing him explain how each functions and what their importance was. Coming from where I do, the concept isn't even a thought, so I was thankful with his patience and knowledge.

sub·cul·ture noun \ˈsəb-ˌkəl-chər\ a cultural group within a larger culture, often having beliefs or interests at variance with those of the larger culture, but seeking out the power of that larger culture.

coun·ter·cul·ture

noun \ˈkau̇n-tər-ˌkəl-chər\ a culture with values and mores opposed to or at variance with the prevailing social norm, refusing to seek out the power of the larger culture, but rather to destroy it from the outside.

Speaking plainly, subculture is Second City, and counterculture is Monty Python. Emo and punk. Wes Anderson and Quentin Tarantino. You get the picture. If you think I'm wrong, comment, please. I'm still mulling all of this over.

My friend Anna and I were discussing this video that's been trending lately, How to Be Alone. I really liked it when I first watched it, but lately, after, essentially, being alone for three weeks, I can't say I can be one of its fans anymore. Anna, apparently, never liked it, and I'm beginning to see why.

Both of us have been contemplating the idea of community, how to preserve it, why it's important, etc. What's odd is, the people that need it most seem to want it the least. "My sister has been trying to get a hold of me all week. She can tell when I'm avoiding talking." So even Anna and I, two introverts, recognize that as little as we may admit to needing it, we do recognize that it is necessary to a healthy life, be it physically, mentally, or spiritually. For me, I dang straight need it for all three. Without at least one human contact a day, lasting a half-hour or more, I go pretty nuts.

Last night, the children's movie Monster House made me cry. Here are these kids, having adventures and becoming heroes, and I couldn't even finish my online assignment, much less save my friends or find the answers to historic, unsolved mysteries. And yes, I know Monster House is an animated movie; it was the essence of the thing. I feel like I'm letter my inner child down because I'm not the person I was hoping I'd be.

But, I also recognize that this is a feeling that becomes strong within me when I am most alone. With Anna, Allen, and Patrick over tonight, just doing homework and playing cards, those concerns of "Am I a failure?" dissolved almost to the point of never having been there. Not because they were a distraction. Because they reminded me I'm not, in fact, failing anyone or anything.

We need people; God called us to be in community with one another. I know a lot of churches and groups are attempting to figure out how to do that effectively. My concern doesn't lie in the doing it perfectly, it's in the doing it at all.

Hebrews 10:23-25
"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near."

Where do you see God moving?
In those three friends. They keep me well-rounded, pull me out when I'm in too deep.

What do you hear God saying?
"You're not alone, and you're definitely not failing me or my plan for you."

How do you see God moving?
Still pushing me to find an artistic outlet. Today for some reason I've felt really compelled to find an art class.

Fact #30

2011-10-15T21:22:00.001-05:00

People die.

It was my grandpa's birthday this past Tuesday. He died March 10th of this year, while Allen and I were visiting for spring break. If I were to be honest (and at this point, why lie?), his death was bittersweet. We were very close, and I had the blessing of see him acquire a strong faith late in his life. However, his health was going down hill for a long time. While he was as stubborn as a mule and as spirited as...some incredibly spirited thing...the fight, to him, was futile. And I don't blame him for growing tired of more and more medications, hospital visits, and nurse attention. I can't say I wouldn't be the same.

Regardless, Tuesday was hard. At the end of the week like this, I would normally give him a call and not even have to explain. He'd quote his regular puns, ("A hard-boiled egg is hard to beat!") and I'd quickly forget about my problem altogether. This time I found myself reaching for my phone, only to realize that I had no one to call. No one like grandpa, at least.

On top of that, Allen's dad's death was reminded to us as I made the mistake of having Allen watch Big Fish. If you haven't seen it, it is a great movie...so long as you're okay with crying a little. In this case, we cried a lot. "A man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories. They live on after him, and in that way he becomes immortal." I could say the same for both of those men; as they were filled with nothing but stories, oftentimes.

Where do I see God moving?
In myself, reminding me I'm not alone.

What do I hear God saying?
"I am here. Find the quiet, and listen."

How do I see God work?
In art. I need to find an outlet to commune with God more.

Fact #29

2011-10-11T18:20:00.002-05:00

Money isn't everything, even in America.

One of my roommates, Cassy, was finally home for a solid eighteen hours. It was glorious. We watched three hysterically cheesy classic horror films on TCM, then went to bed, nervous Hugo the Dummy was going to kill us in our sleep. The next morning, I had someone to talk to over breakfast! Amazing! I love this revolutionary invention, this..."conversation," I think they call it.

Afterwards, we went to the mall. She needed to buy black pants for work, and I needed to do something else besides read South African philosophy for two hours. To be honest, I was a little nervous about going. When I go to work, I put in my ear buds and make a beeline for the store, avoiding any eye contact with the trendy storefronts lasting longer that 1/9 minute, lest I regain that longing to be hip, fashionable, and soul less again. It had been awhile since I went to the mall to actually be a patron. Malls became hubs for employment, and now that I was a part of its inner-workings, I couldn't risk becoming a customer again. I couldn't afford to be a customer again.

With the hours and wage C&B was giving me, I had $24.32 at the end of each month, after the rent, insurance, and phone bill was due. Certainly not enough to buy the new $69.79 Editor pant being sold at Express. But as Cass went in to try things on, and I wandered around the store, casually browsing the rows and rows of various styles of boot cut jeans I have never understood, I suddenly felt a peace wash over me.

It's good to have less in this moment, so you may be more generous in the future.

I finally felt my finances become a joy, rather than a burden. God gifts us money, we don't earn it from him, or anyone else, for that matter. It's not mine to have, and it's not mine to hoard. I have what I have, and it's keeping me here, right where God put me. And I'm okay with that.

But hey, if he wants me to be rich, I'd totally be okay with that too.

Where do I see God moving?
In my heart, calming me down.

What do I hear God saying?
"By jove, I think she's got it!"

How do I see God work?

Teaching me and building my self-control.

Fact #28

2011-10-10T18:51:00.001-05:00

Town festivals cater to pedestrians.

Yesterday I had a second interview with REI. This is a Big Freaking Deal. That's right, not just a big deal. It's made its way to BFD status.

My interview was at 1 pm, the Schaumburg location. It takes roughly 25 minutes to get from Elgin to Schaumburg. Church is at 10:30 am, in St. Charles. Normally, we make it back to Elgin where my car is parked by 12 pm. That is how it works every Sunday.
Unfortunately, not this Sunday.

The pastor went over in his sermon for the first time I've ever been there. Upon realizing this, my stomach went into panic mode, because I'm one of those anal people that needs to be at an interview a half an hour beforehand to assimilate to her surroundings. When it came to my scholarship interview, I was there two hours early because I budged extra time, then got there earlier than I had anticipated anyway. That's how anal I am.

Moving on.

So Joe went over time, I started to panic, but then I thought, Ashley. Chill. God gave you the interview, he'll take care of the rest. So I stayed put, and I listened. No worries, I'll just be twenty minutes early, not a half hour. Then he announced we were going to have a church prayer over two families. Well obviously I can't leave during those. How rude is that? I can spare five minutes. So I prayed. And I can't lie, I glanced at Anna's watch. Okay, maybe I'll just be fifteen minutes early. That's still okay.

Prayer was done, told my compadres to meet me at the car while I got Allen from the children's lesson (to clarify, he teaches, he does not, in fact, participate). On the road. Check my phone. 12:15 pm. Okay, time to boogie.

Then....bam. Somehow, magically, over the course of an hour and a half, St. Charles suddenly became Fall Festival Traffic Maze. And not the fun kind like Frogger. This was the evil kind, where streets are blocked off, traffic cops actually get distracted by donuts, and the pedestrians take their dear sweet time. It took us fifteen minutes to get out of there. 12:30 pm. Still have to make it to Elgin.

After hitting every red light along the way (four, to be exact), we finally made it to my car, where I did a sweet tuck and roll move while simultaneously unlocking my car and leaping inside. I'm just kidding. But seriously.

12:42 pm and I am speeding...no, not speeding, drag racing down I-90. I am not going to miss this interview. Allen texts me the number to their location, I call up the manager, warn him I may be five to ten minutes late. "We have another interview at three," he says cheerily, "You want to come in for that one instead?" "I can't," I bemoan, passing a semi truck and ducking into a narrow gap in the left lane, "I have a wedding at three." "Oh, uh...well, get here as soon as you can then."

With a renewed sense of purpose I toss the phone behind me into the back seat, grip with wheel tightly and glide through the I-Pass with swift reassurance, the sight of Schaumburg ahead. 12:50 pm. Dang, I'm good.

I turn onto Higgins and weave through traffic like I'm Dirty Harry... or some cheesy 80's cop that weaves through traffic a lot. I make a turn to get onto Golf Rd and... No. No, I did not make a wrong turn. I COULD NOT have made a wrong turn TODAY.

I made a wrong turn. I was too far east on Golf Rd. I had to turn around.

I was still five minutes late, just missing the introductions to the point where I was simply the last person to introduce myself. I answered the questions to the best of my ability. I chatted with one of the other employees. I was honest, I was receptive, but I was still late, and I don't know how they're going to take that.

So now I wait. They let me know whether I got the job sometime this week, by the 16th, they said. I really don't know what to think, and I'm trying my darndest to just give it up to God and let him take care of it. But still. This is REI.

After I left the interview, I proceeded to get lost on my way to the wedding. There are two Main Streets going down Roosevelt Road, did you know?

C'mon God. Throw me a bone.

Where do I see God moving?

In my relationship with Allen. I'm astounded at how calmly he took my hysterics over the phone as he tried to direct me to the ceremony. And I dropped a lot of f-bombs.

What do you hear God saying?

"You need to calm the heck down."

How do I see God at work?

Teaching me how much I really do need to work on when it comes to my patience with others and trust in Him.

Fact #27

2011-10-06T11:02:00.001-05:00

The grass is always greener on the other side, but some people use Astro Turf.

Had my first day at C&B on Tuesday. Today’s my second.

It’s not so bad. Really, really boring, but luckily not stressful. Still no luck on the humor front. Hadn’t expected them to take me seriously when I joked about having interpretive dance competitions to our terrible store music to attract customers. Maybe I should bring my unitard, just in case.

Very much having a day of rebellion. Woke up feeling like protesting something, just to be loud. Dressed like a beatnik. Need to remember to invest in bongos and a beret.

I know that God has me here for something, even if it is just to work through my crap, but at this point I’ve just stopped caring. God’s going to do whatever, so I’ll take the same route and just let his plans happen to me. I’m too emotionally drained to try and be excited about them right now.

Not looking to Formations class, because I don’t want to talk about where I’m from, what I think, or where I’m going. I don’t know these people well enough to that honest. I had been pulled aside in the hall last week and told not to talk about my scholarship to anyone because it “causes conflict among the students.” I didn’t know. I had no idea it upset people. The person who pulled me aside said my mentioning that I had a scholarship angered a lot of people in my Building Reconciled Communities class. I was asked what my journey was to seminary, and thought that was something I could be honest about. I just answered the question. Honestly, I thought most of the people were on some form of scholarship here, so I thought it’d be a commonality, not a line of difference. If I can’t be honest about how I got here, how can I be honest about my baggage?

Geeze, now I’m crying. I hope it doesn’t short-circuit my keyboard.

Where do I see God moving?
Outside, where the life is.

What do you hear God saying?
Nada.

How do I see God at work?
In everyone else.

Fact #26

2011-10-03T20:18:00.001-05:00

"Can't pay the rent if you ain't got the dough."

That was a line in a camp song we used to sing at Wabansi. I hate that song right now.

It hasn’t been a particularly hard day. More like an uneventful one. Christopher & Banks offered me a job. It's a store at the neighboring mall; they sell clothing to women 40+ that makes them look even older. I took it knowing that I can’t bank on the REI job until I know if I get a second interview or not, and rent’s due on Wednesday. I start tomorrow.

School hasn't gotten much better. The students still feel foreign to me. In a way, I kind of feel like Alice falling into Wonderland. The White Rabbit is education, it led me down and not up, and now I’m meeting a bunch of confusing people who hold me to a social code I do not understand. Still trying to figure out who the Red Queen is.

I sound like a brat, I know. But I’ve been making a genuine effort to get to know people. I’ve gone to all the events, talked to people, made my door open. I’ve made friends with my neighbors Rick, Dougal, and John…John has kind of become my Paul that I prayed for in my first entry. He said, “I think we’re friends so I can make sure you don’t get kicked out.” Safe bet. I can vent to him all I want and he knows it’s just hot air. Generally speaking, I’m all bark and no bite. Generally why I like satire so much.

It’s not the same though; it’s great to have a big brother now, but I need female friends. My roommates were supposed to be that, but they’re never home. I started becoming friends with a woman named Janine, but we're still trying to find common ground. We're in different stages, and I'm not quite comfortable being completely open yet.

God, you gave me a Paul, now give me an Elizabeth. Someone I have commonality with, and can confide in. In no way am I attempting to equate myself with Mary, but their bond was unmistakable. I need that sort of friendship right now.

Or at least someone who laughs at my jokes.

Where Do I See God At Work?

In my attitude. It certainly needs a tune-up.

What Do I Hear God Saying?

"Be open. Give grace."

Where Do I see God moving?

In my friendships with John and Janine. I've gained more insight from them than anyone here, so far.

Fact #25

2011-10-02T14:34:00.001-05:00

Hippies can be business-savvy too.

Normally I drive to St. Charles for church at Redeemer Fellowship on Sunday mornings. I meet up with Allen, Patrick, Kelsey, Anna, and anyone else who feels like tagging along, at Judson, and we all trek over there for the morning. Not today though. Had a job interview at REI in Schaumburg.

REI is a co-op for outdoor gear. My cousin Joe works there on the weekends and helped me get an interview. They donate 10% of their yearly profits before they divide it up for raises, bonuses, promotions, etc. to local non-profit organizations and schools so they can include outdoor programs. They clean up their local nature centers and forest preserves, and they go on kayak and climbing tours on the weekends. Because they like each other. And they like their community. And they care.

The more they spoke at the hiring presentation, the more I prayed for God to give me this opportunity. I never thought work had the potential to be an escape, but this definitely felt like a safe-haven. I was so energized by everyone I spoke to! And it was a funny thing…when I had sent in an application for employment a week ago, it had clearly said to not include anything involving religious persuasions or convictions because they try to be an “open, non-judgmental environment.” But in my interview when they asked me why I loved the outdoors, and I talked about how it was God’s creation and we needed to be stewards of it and enjoy the blessing it is. I told them about Restoring Eden (a Christian ecology activist group) and what my old roommate and I did with the LEED evaluations of Judson and the fact that I was in seminary and they were excited. I was shocked, because I hadn’t meant to say anything about any of it, and it just…came out. And they loved it.

I really hope God’s preparing something for me there, because that interview filled me more than anything has all week.

I told Leesa, Dr. Brown, and Dr. Quicke that I felt more comfortable around non-Christians than Christians. I’m afraid that now I’m just running from the very thing I wanted to work on. But I don’t know if that’s even what I’m doing. Maybe God actually wants me to do something there.

God, make things clear. I feel like that’s the first breath of fresh air I’ve had outside of these devotions so far.

Psalm 116: 1-4

“I love the Lord, because he had heard my voice and my pleas for mercy. Because he inclined his ear to me, therefore I will call on him as long as I live. The snares of death encompassed me; the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me; I suffered in distress and anguish. Then I called on the name of the Lord: O Lord, I pray, deliver my soul!”

Where Do I See God At Work?

At REI, whether I'm there or not.

What Do I Hear God Saying?

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Trust me first."

Where Do I see God moving?

Unsure yet.

Fact #24

2011-10-02T14:03:00.001-05:00

Some people you know. Some people you don't. Either one is capable of screwing you over.

Our fourth roommate backed out of moving in the day before she was planned to, and now we don't know how to afford rent.

A close, family friend of Allen's, much like a surrogate father, called me "small minded, foolish, and scared."

Today was supposed to be mine and Allen's 11 month anniversary. Happy anniversary to me...

I made a joke about Winston Churchill. Dear lord, everyone does. Allen's friend...we'll call him...Tom...started a conversation about American history. Someone we got onto the topic of Churchill, and he said, “Churchill had the balls to do things other men weren’t brave enough to.” And I said, in the most obvious joking tone I could muster, said “Yeah, because Churchill drank enough to do so.” Without so much as a pause, he exploded. “Ashley, that is what small-minded, stupid, foolish people say when they have no other reason to dislike him."

Everyone knows Churchill drank profusely. It's not dirty laundry, it was an well-known fact. And I love Churchill. He’s one of my favorite historical figures. I was speaking with the thought that we were on common ground with a similar understanding.

Anyway, the table became very quiet and awkward. I didn’t say anything because I was afraid to. The conversation eventually picked up again, but I didn’t participate. Later I asked Allen if I could have the keys to his car because I “had to make a phone call.” I cried for the better part of 30 minutes. Allen had to find me. He made us stay the rest of the night, and by the time we left it was 11pm, way too late to still go out and celebrate. The mood was killed anyway.

Everyone I found commonality with and comfort in is now somehow becoming what I try to get away from here. I feel like these journaling periods are the only times I get to breathe again. And then when the hour is over, I have to take one last breath before I go under again.

Cognitively, I know God is with me. But I don’t feel him anymore. It’s been a long time since I felt like that. Moving is scary enough, I don’t want to do it alone, or feel like I’m doing it alone.

Where do I see God at work?

Unsure.

What do I hear God saying?

"Go to bed. Try again in the morning."

Where do I see God moving?

I don't.

Fact #23

2011-09-29T23:33:00.001-05:00

Things change.

Hey guys. Dang, it's been a long time. Sorry about that.

Things have been moving more rapidly than I anticipated, so I have a lot to catch you up on.

#1- I graduated from Judson. That means I'm, like, an adult now.

....

Okay, you caught me. I own too many graphic t-shirts for that to be true any time soon.

#2- I'm dating someone pretty patient. I'd say cool, but I've noticed even cool people lose their patience with me, so I'll stick with patient. His name's Allen. Photographer, zombie enthusiast, pizza connoisseur, and Dr. Pepper addict. If he's good, I may feature him here sometime.

#3- I received a full ride to Northern Seminary. Dang straight, peeps, I'm getting my Master's. That means I've moved, permanently, to IL, so now I have the right to drive like a cabby....all the time. Good luck. I'm a beast.

Those three things have done a ton to change my perspective on things, but certainly not my humor, so don't worry. Just think of this as an updated, deeper, more meaningful round of sarcasm coming at you.

You, dear reader, are in for quite the ride.

This is especially so, because for one of the classes I'm taking, we have to upkeep a journal-devotion four times a week. Which I will be sharing here with all of you, mainly because I'm a narcissist, and partially because if you're following me, you're smart enough to leave a decent comment or two.

Here we go.

I have survived Week 1 of Oppression. I call this place (meaning all of Lombard, not just the seminary itself) because no one seems to have an ounce of humor within them. And if you know me, this is like throwing a fish in the desert. Yes, yes, I know I have Jesus, but I am having a real good time figuring out why God put me here.

Classes are interesting, I love my professors so far, or at least the subjects they are teaching. But the students...are either 40+, or in that state of marriage where a single, 22 year old woman with an ounce of charm appears to be the devil. Also, from who I have met, the fine arts are a frivolity. Needless to say, it's been a scant bit difficult to make friends. And I'm too pretty to be unpopular.
When I came for a campus visit, I was impressed by the diversity, openness, and respect. Now that I’m here, diversity feels more like mélange, openness becomes a violent competition to have the most baggage, and respect is a thin layer of decorum to conceal it all, including all the bleeding tongues chomped down on while waiting for the coffee to brew.

Not to mention I'm the youngest student here. I'm not making a generalization. I actually am the youngest person here. When I was moving in, everyone thought my dad was the one moving in.

God. Why did you bring me here?

I have to go through two years of this? I left Kewaunee because of the close-mindedness and ignorance. I never felt repressed in any part of Illinois, and now it’s making me want to go back.

I have no outlet here. It’s either talk about Jesus in class, or talk about Jesus when you run into someone in the hall. Try talking about art or music or poetry, or dear lord laugh...and you’re “flighty,” “crazy,” and “immature.

I feel like I need a Paul in my life telling me it’s okay to be young. Maybe that bit in Timothy 5:23 too. I don't mind being encouraged to drink, at this rate.

Where do I see God at work?
Good friggin' question.

What am I hearing God saying?"
"Be patient, for My Sake."

Where Do I see God moving?
I don't. I'm starting to wonder if he's a ninja.

Fact #22

2010-10-27T12:56:00.001-05:00

Birthdays are important.

You'll always have friends that will attempt to persuade you that they don't really care about their birthday. They will always be lying. With that:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CURTIS BELL!

Curtis is the bomb.
But not the dangerous kind.
Let's be friends for life.

Fact #21

2010-10-13T17:18:00.001-05:00

If you fall asleep unexpectedly, your face will be wrinkly upon waking.

(Case in point.)

They really need to fund research on that.

Facts #19 and #20

2010-10-11T16:09:00.001-05:00

Peace doesn't come comfortably.

and

Sarcasm can be alienating.

I never make my bed. Well, scratch that, I sometimes make my bed, like when I have company, or one corner of the fitted sheet has come undone and I keep getting my elbow stuck in it at night. Otherwise, doesn't happen. I'm not really comfortable in it if I do. I'm like a dog that way. I turn and turn and turn until it's just right. When I make it and try to fall asleep at night, it's like it's saying Um, excuse me, but you don't quite fit. I don't suppose you could sleep on the floor, could you?

I suspect it's rather odd to give dialogue to your furniture...but I digress.

Anyway, I nest. I have to get settled. I fidget in armchairs, sprawl on floors, and rearrange my belongings at least eighty different times. It's how I am with people as well. I cannot be fully comfortable with you until I've made at least three awkward statements just to see how you react to them. (This isn't necessarily something I do consciously, of course, but just a pattern I've noticed over the years.) If you meet my unintentional audacity with grace, eventually I'll become less keyed up and our future relationship will be much more pleasant.

I certainly do not mean to make people jump through hoops. With a family full of smart alecs, I was taught to think swiftly, speak sharply, and laugh at everything. This, unfortunately for me, is apparently not one of those basic "facts of life" kids are normally taught. This, unfortunately for me, makes me awkward.

And then, oy vey, when I meet other people like me...it's disaster. Neither of us can crack the other's awkward barrier, so we just stare at each other, frustrated with the knowledge that there's something deeper, but stubbornly not wanting to be the first to give that information up. Enough to make you want to start a Sardonics Anonymous support group.

After this pattern has rooted itself into your system, you start believing that the only person that can protect you is, of course, yourself. You become awfully lonely and start asking God why He would ever condemn you to such a terrible fate. He, obviously, hasn't, and patiently waits for you to realize you've been alienating yourself for these some fifteen years. (Yes, I began to grasp the art of sarcasm at the age of six. I was quick.) But if you're someone like me, your immediate thought is "This sucks. I refuse this rationale outright." So, God being God, He continues to wait patiently, your flippancy only amusing in the fact that He knows you'll turn to Him eventually, incredulously asking, "What is wrong with the world today?"

Fact of the matter is that I, me, is what's wrong with the world, at least for today. And no ounce of cynicism can protect me from it, because trust me, I've argued with God all day. Past hurt, this semester's frustrations, last week's arguments...there's no point in talking about them anymore whether you'd feel vindicated or not, because bringing them up will only make you appear nagging, and if someone actually does agree with you, and you do gain that vindication...world, watch out, because that's when us smart asses really set out on crusade (trumpets, flags, corrupt mercenaries...the whole shebang).

God's really been hinting at this truth for the past couple weeks, and I'm just beginning to own up to it. As I had said...I certainly didn't like it. I refused it for awhile, punishing anyone with the inability to verbally duel with me with an extra dose. Evangelism at it's best, obviously. So then I went to silence. I simply didn't speak that much. Friends noticed, concerned, while others were probably sending up a prayer of thanks for the unexpected grace. Still, I wasn't happy. Being a naturally outgoing person, becoming a quieter version of myself didn't sit well. When friends asked what was up, I would only respond bitterly, only having to apologize immediately afterward, explaining I was undergoing spiritual growing pains.

Which brings me back to my first fact. As with my bed, I mess with my ideas. God delivered a revelation to me, neat and perfect, as only God can do. I, recognizing it as truth, asked God for peace about it, but again, as only God will, He said, "No, you haven't even thought about it. I want you to own this." So, me, sulking in the bathtub with my pillow and blanket only as I can do, thought about it. Thoroughly. And this morning at breakfast, when a friend asked what was wrong and I had to tell him, honestly, that I wish I could explain but couldn't, thought about it some more. And in chapel. And at work while sorting mail. And during my guitar jury (which is probably why I missed a note during my D Major scale, but really, how do you explain that to your music professor?). So there I was, all day, turning and turning and turning until it felt like a part of me. I think this may be God's sick version of Inception.

I still haven't fully settled yet, but I figure this post would hardly be as interesting or relatable if I were to write it after the fact. I think it's a bit of the process anyway. Oh, and I quit counseling. That's probably worrisome for a few of you, but really, if you can talk your shrink into a corner, chances are they're not for you. She had me draw pictures of my inner-self. I don't think it had quite the cathartic effect she was hoping for.

Fact #18

2010-09-12T23:43:00.001-05:00

The Truth shall set you free...from yourself.

I'm going to see a shrink tomorrow.

The part of myself that is still incredulous about this fact depends on such an informal term to make herself feel better. For years I'd planned on going, but could never quite bite the bullet. "The Counseling Center's for crazy people. You're not crazy, you're just busy. You're a student leader, for Pete's sake. Everyone has bad days, especially with so much on your plate." And yet, honesty gnawed at the back of my mind like a rabid monkey: There are more to your bad days than most, kiddo.

I had finally convinced myself I'd go last year, but my mind was having difficulty communicating that decision to my feet. Day after day, I'd walk past it with a small sense of guilt that grew with each passing day. But, alas, summer arrived and I left a place in which psychoanalysis is replaced with hiking, and any 12-step program is laughed at outright. So, in came the Lake Michigan breezes, and out went all desires of help.

From there, I steeled my mind once more, persuading myself into believing I was invincible, or at least supposed to be. This facade sufficed...until I returned to school, to my usual trek back and forth past what intimidated me most, and back to my old mantra: You don't need it. You don't need it. You don't need it.

Then I started reading the book Eat, Pray, Love. Elizabeth Gilbert, the book's author and protagonist, also dealt with depression.

"I tried so hard to fight the endless sobbing. I remember asking myself one night, while I was curled up in the same old corner of my same old couch in tears yet again over the same old repetition of sorrowful thoughts, "Is there anything about this scene you can change, Liz?" And all I could think to do was stand up, while still sobbing, and try to balance on one foot in the middle of my living room. Just to prove that--while I couldn't stop the tears or change my dismal interior dialogue--I was not yet totally out of control: at least I could cry hysterically while balanced on one foot. Hey, it was a start."

Now, my situation is nothing like Gilbert's. For one, I don't bother going to the couch, as our's is right by our window. I prefer wallowing in my personal doom by grabbing my pillow, lying in the bathtub, and drawing the curtain until B finds me. Secondly, I'm not a critically-acclaimed author being payed to jet-set across the world. What I could resonate with, however, was that desire to control something, anything, even if it were something so ridiculous as posing like an emo flamingo for a couple minutes.

But I've come to realize this is out of my control. As much as this could depress me further, it doesn't, because I'm not alone. The center isn't for crazy people, it's for healthy people. The book's central quote by Sheryl Louise Moller, "Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth," has become my new mantra.

Because really, what's worse than lying to yourself about yourself?

Fact #17

2010-08-15T12:02:00.001-05:00

Like church, home is created by the people, not the space.

My family threw an anniversary party for my grandparents last month. For awhile my brother and I shuffled through the throng of attendees, looking lost as we searched for the family were instructed to recognize, greet, and allow to pet us. Deciding we had failed, and must be really crappy relatives, we returned to our dad. My brother, now fifteen and very much growing into one of my favorite people in the world, turned to him and said, "Who the hell are these people, and how are we related?" Laughing, dad responded, "Family hasn't shown up yet. These are all of their friends they met when they RV'd across America for a year."

My grandparents on my dad's side always amazed me. They never stayed put for long, but wherever they were they built astounding community, and in the two houses I've been around to go visit them in, they have always filled them with a strong spirit of love and security.

I'm still trying to figure out their trick. Maybe it's their disregard for pomp and circumstance. Maybe it's grandpa's stories. Maybe it's grandma's laughter. Maybe it's their lack of Ikea catalogs. Whatever it is, I wish I could bottle it, and pour it over every place I live, and invite everyone I meet in. I want to do life with people, traveling, just like they did, not just to make myself interesting, but to become even more interested in people, and just start to grasp onto what about us God loves so damn much.

I love children, because they're so brilliantly transparent. They love without fear or condition, and demand love because they know that, no matter what, it's needed. I lost my zeal for people this summer. Big people, I mean. Too much calculation, too many hurdles. I began to forget what it was to love without an audience, without authority, without stipulation. I forgot the truth about my existence, and could only think about what I should look like to others.

All I can say is, never again. They're right (whomever the ominous "They" are). Home is where the heart is. And my heart has found its way again. Back to all of you.

Fact #16

2010-08-09T17:43:00.001-05:00

Living with two college-age boys is one of the most stressful educational experiences you could put yourself through.

Just take my word on this one.

Fact #15

2010-07-21T18:28:00.001-05:00

It's impossible to count your blessings.

One of my duties after camp is to drive to one of our bus's drop-off sites to make sure the one kid that is picked up from that site makes it to his parental unit safely. So, quite literally, I drive 20 minutes to watch Samuel walk from Point A, to Point B, and then drive back.

Then I say, "Why?" shrug, shake my head, then consider myself blessed regardless and drive on back.

Today, as I watched the kid scamper off to his mom (who is always early) and began to feel my impatience flutter like a tiny dragon eating any stomach butterflies I could ever possess, I decided to try out that good ol' saying, "Count your blessings."

As I actually attempted to do so, I realized that there was no way I was going to find an end. Once I was up to my point in the route to which I must dodge construction (and the road workers that come along with it), I had lost count completely.

Funny, how testing out such a simple, age-old idea can improve your outlook so easily.

Fact #14

2010-07-18T23:42:00.001-05:00

A sense of humor is the perfect boyfriend (or spouse, for those enviably blissful few).

10) It always shows up on time for parties.
9) It can't hold your hair back, but it's forgiving after that party.
8) It (positively) encourages weight loss (laughter = 1.3 calories/minute).
7) It'll get you out of a tight spot with your parents, your professor...or your neighbor...
6) It's never out of your league.
5) Together you make the absolute cutest Facebook profile pictures.
4) It doesn't have to hug you to make you feel good.
3) All of your friends love it.
2) Keeps you warm at night, and leaves you with a smile on your face.
1) God gives it to you right on time.

I felt my last post was rather cocky, and I apologize. I'm not one for deleting things though, and I still hold to a few of those ideals stated within the entry. Plus, I'd rather you see me for who I am, flaws and all, than some monolithic character incapable of growth. Because, really, what's the point of a Christian community if we can't grow together, right?

Fact #13

2010-07-17T19:37:00.001-05:00

Humor is a blessing to the observant.

I don't mean to toot my own horn or anything (which I always thought was an odd saying...can you imagine people walking around with horns simply for that reason? Strange.) but I'm a rather entertaining human being. I'm told this all of the time, so, unless I'm continually surrounded by enemies, I'll continue to assume it's true. However, I must stress that it is rarely my own material. People constantly ask me if I make my stories up as I tell them. As if I were that creative. Ha.

God definitely has blessed me with the gift of observation and timing. And making friends with the most odd assortment of people in the world. In fact, now that I think about it, I'm quite positive that if all of my friends were to sit down to dinner together, nothing and no one would make it out alive, either due to busting a gut, or a fist fight (which would go unnoticed, because everyone would be laughing too hard).

I sometimes wonder if a little observation doesn't better all things. The bad breakup, the angry parent, the nasty injury (I currently have poison ivy). We'll take the example of a terrible coworker. If you take the time to notice the good things a body's capable of, rather than that one (or several, if it's male) thing they've done, your day can become infinitely better. Especially if it was something unintentional. I know a handful of absolutely terrible people that end up creating half of my Twitter updates. And knowing that they would definitely behead me if they knew I was quoting them only makes it that much better.

Fact #12

2010-07-05T19:18:00.001-05:00

When it comes to matters of reputation and credibility, you have to stick to your guns.

My grandparents sent me a sweater last semester, and I absolutely loved it. The problem? It was sized to fit the girth of Violet Beauregarde after the blueberry pie gum incident. So, naturally, I sent it back to the company, (which I shall give the pseudonym of...Dabela's). They kindly told me that, because the sweater was no longer in stock, they would send me a gift card in its place for the value of the sweater. After several months of waiting, however, I received no such card. No big deal, really. Things happen. So I emailed them. This is when the hilarious argument that only God could bless me with began. To spare you reading all eight pages (yes, eight), I'll skip to my favorite part:

Dear Ashley,
It states that the card was indeed sent to Harambee.

Sincerely,
Quinten C.
Customer Service

Dear Quinten,
I have no idea where that is...I go to school in Elgin, IL. I have a few friends and family that may know where it is though...

Cheers,
Ashley McCambridge

Dear Ashley,
It's actually the northern part of Milwaukee, WI.
Sincerely,

Quinten C.
Customer Service

Dear Quinten,
Haha, well there you go; I definitely don't know where it is then.

Cheers,
Ashley McCambridge

Dear Ashley,
It was mostly spent in the deli in our Richfield store. A buffalo burger, a grilled chicken sandwich, and candy, according to the redeemed gift card transactions.

Sincerely,
Quinten C.
Customer Service

Dear Quinten,
Then I continue to assert this wasn't my doing; I'm a vegetarian.

Cheers,
Ashley McCambridge

Dear Ashley,
We will send you a new gift card at the address you have provided with us. We apologize for the confusion.

Sincerely,
Quinten C.
Customer Service

Persistence seems to go a long way. So does honesty.

Fact #11

2010-07-04T00:18:00.001-05:00

You can't always get what you want.

The Rolling Stones were right. You can't always get what you want. It may happen on occasion, but really, if we were 100% honest, it rarely happens. And so we change our attitudes, manipulate them sometimes, even. We will do anything to make ourselves believe our desires are the most important. For example, my wiener dog, Carl, believes finding his hidden kong is worth nudging me incessantly for at 12:46 AM. What he doesn't realize is that by doing so, he has interrupted my sleep, heightening the chances that I will forget to feed him in the morning, as I chase my desire to show up to work on time.

Ah, the price we pay for entertainment.

And yet, what happens to us when our desire for goodness and our desire for anything else conflict? We begin down that slippery slope of justification.

Cognitive dissonance, you're an absolute whore.

Fact #10

2010-06-26T12:21:00.002-05:00

Romantic comedies make women and men believe they are absolute fools, and encourage unbalanced relations.

Two of my favorite movies are When Harry Met Sally, and Definitely, Maybe. I love stories about relationships set over long periods of time. The character development makes it more relatable, more real. However, a current position I'm in has got me rethinking my stance on the films. Both have this smart, quirky, surfacely overly-confident, secretly insecure woman tentatively flirting with their best friend, and always unknowing of the lovably goofy, impossibly attractive man (you shake your head at the thought of Billy Crystal, but hey, in his time he was fine).

I could always relate to her. Always the best friend, whose beauty was discovered late in the game, but no less passionately. And if you were ever able to follow the on-screen relationships after the movie's end, mine would as theirs would have: in a familiar setting we'd always loved, slow and bittersweet, knowing it was "for the best" and "at least we're able to stay friends." Which isn't a half-bad record, in my opinion. I'm certainly not complaining. They were just...typical. It became routine. Almost an equation, really:

(Guy Friend + Listening Ear)/(Patience - Dependence) x Avoidance of Fluorescent Lighting = Boyfriend

It became my fail-safe plan, without a doubt. Then I started getting into situations (college) where I simply just made a lot of guy friends. Legitimate friends with which I had/have no agenda. Alas, the Plan took on a life of its own, and I ended up in relationships I didn't even see coming. I became the Quirky Girl, without even wanting to.

It's a difficult thing, shedding the Quirky Girl skin. Once people peg you for it, they'll never let you live it down. Not such a bad thing, really. They're always rooting for you. Always laughing with you. They like you because you're comfortable being just a little bit odder than they already are, and will always accept whatever flaws they decide to share with you.

But the summer has presented three completely new situations to which I am not the Quirky Girl, but rather, the Mysterious Sexpot. How the frick this was accomplished, I'm still trying to figure out, but it has. New skin for me, for sure. My friend B's normally this character. She's always, without fail, the adventurous, flirty, mystery-girl that every guy works for, and I've always enjoyed the sarcastic side-kick role (quite thoroughly, actually). A was the Wise Artist, and Abs was the Girl Next Door. It was a system that worked.

But when you look at film, those girls never win. Either they are the prize of some dumpy, awkward white guy, or the one Quirky Girl is up against. But why should we be made to feel this way? Is being a mysterious woman wrong?

And what of the bumbling slob that always seems to get lucky? Why make them bumbling? Why make them slobs? Or the dashing lead that seems blind to his best friend throwing herself at him? How does any of it make sense enough for us to fall for it, and then model our own relationships after it?

Oy vey, I say. We're smarter than this. Women, we are mysterious, beautiful, deserving of adoration as well as challenge. Men, you're all strong and fully capable of providing for a woman should you simply take the initiative. Guys, we're all everything anyone could want. Attempting to pigeonhole our personalities into a defined character puts limits on our lives. Why do that to ourselves?

So I'm going out today, as the Quirky Mysterious Wise Girl That Reminds You of an Old Friend...and whatever other adjectives I can pick up along the way. Because there's only One that can define you, and they're certainly not here.

Fact #9

2010-04-24T13:13:00.001-05:00

All good things take time.

Art, relationships, the perfect soufflè...whatever it is, chances are it's going to take awhile before it's even satisfactory to you. And even then, it'll take time and effort. This brings up several frustrating points:

1) You may lose track of other important things.

2) It takes a part of you, and may keep that part.

3) Patience is required. Sometimes a lot of friggin' patience.

4) Others may discourage you.

5) It may have not been worth it in the end.

And yet, the rewards often outweigh the risks. People, for instance, continually take time no matter how well you know them. And because you can't just shut them off or put them away, this process will never end.

That is, of course, assuming you're not a jerk.

Fact #8

2010-04-17T20:29:00.001-05:00

Comedy = (Tragedy + Distance)/Time

I'm not one to gripe, but this has been a bad week. I mean one of those never-come-up-for-air-from-the-bad...weeks. And what pisses me off more than anything right now, more than having my crush ignore me after months of flirting, more than having to re-reschedule my guitar lesson despite not having time to practice for juries, more than having my favorite professor call me out on a deep personal familial hurt in the middle of my advanced public speaking class...is the fact that I can't even relish this rare chance at anger, because of my knowledge that I will laugh at the slew of frustration as soon as next week begins.

There is no doubt that anger is rarely justifiable, and even more rarely righteous. And all too often, if you make the mistake of acting on your anger, you'll find you became the villain you thought you were battling.

Fact #7

2010-03-07T23:26:00.001-06:00

Opportunity is petrifying.

"You're so talented! You should totally go for it; it's the chance of a lifetime!"

I listened to B's words as I stared at my computer screen, half excitement, half dread pounding in the cavity that, while normally contains food, now housed my heart. No...nono...not possible...they would never... But yes...they would. And did.

The situation was this: one of my favorite bands, intimidatingly indie in their brilliance and threateningly accessible in their enrollment at my school, recently posted the following on their Facebook status:

one new person can play with us at any of our shows. here is what we are looking for: horns, keyboard, glockenspiel, violin, cello, viola, choir... whatever else you can convince us is cool first come first serve anyone up for the beat kitchen show!!

You're always safe dreaming dreams. You're completely fine talking about them, laughing as you describe the quintessential moment that allows you to shine. You're comfortable planning steps to achieve everything you could hope for. You're safe laboriously going over every detail of that pinnacle point of your personal history.

Then Opportunity rears its ugly head, demanding you to act.

It doesn't help that this particular chance was brought to my attention immediately following the Oscars, the one television event that reminds me of my hopes and dreams as they glide seamlessly glide across stage. That, however, is hardly an attainable goal at this point.

There are two things I love third to God and my family, respectively: acting and making music. Now acting right now, is an opportunity that ebbs and flows like a steady tide. Four shows a year, plus improv and a troupe for chapel. It's opportunity I'm comfortable with.

I haven't played music for anyone save myself and my lessons profs since high school. I miss it, especially that incandescent comfort you get playing with other musicians you've become to trust. But, being as reserved with my trust as I am, I'm more afraid of performing music than anything, acting included. Acting requires you to represent someone else, or their ideas of humanity. Music demands your most absolute self.

here is what we are looking for: horns, keyboard, glockenspiel, violin, cello, viola, choir...

Here's what I'm looking for: courage, patience, and grace.

See you at the Beat Kitchen.

Fact #6

2010-02-25T20:12:00.002-06:00

It is impossible to efficiently judge people, for all are in a constant state of flux.

It would be of great comfort to many people, most of all myself, to be able to classify people as one does animals. That is, in Latin, on a hierarchical chart. This would make things so much more simple, without me having to change my social tactics with any of them.

I'm in a communications theory class this semester, and it is fascinating. It's interesting to think of these theorists, and the ways in which they attempt to predict human motivation. They make some very valid claims, such as the theories of Social Penetration, Uncertainty-Reduction, and especially Stella Ting-Toomey's ideas on conflict resolution in her theory of Face-Negotiation. They will continue their research, forever believing that, at some point, they will have narrowed down their theory enough to be able to fully rely on its hypothesis.

However, this will never be. People are complex; joy is as common as rage, disillusionment as hope, and obsession as passion. You will never know your best friends as well as you think, and vice-versa and, though this fact may seem incredibly depressing and increasingly frustrating, it is Good. When we think about it, would we truly want it any other way? Yes, of course, I jest that my desires lean to the ideal of having all humans placed on microscope slides for me to analyze and make clear-cut conjectures about, but after all my work would be done, what would really be gained? There would be nothing left to quest over, save God. And God created us imago dei, so who am I to tamper with that?

Fact #5

2010-02-07T00:48:00.001-06:00

Sometimes there are standards you will not live up to.

I know I said I'd post photos, but I decided to give you a bonus for being so dedicated and made a movie instead. The video pretty much explains all. B and J will probably be mentioned often here. We’re planning on going back and trying again. Maybe that time with track marks up our arms to be more convincing.

Fact #4

2010-02-05T14:49:00.001-06:00

When you grow up, you will have to take multi-vitamins. And they will taste awful.

I spilled my One-a-Days in my sink today. I was immediately greeted with the pungent aroma of health. It's amazing how something so nutritious can inspire one to gag upon its scent. It didn't help that they instantly began dissolving into pasty yellow mush once they came in contact with the puddle of water by the drain.

I normally choke them down with orange juice, but I ran out, so the remnants of my Mt. Dew's going to have to suffice. Ironically collegiate diet, I must say.

God, please inspire someone to create vitamins for college kids; ones that taste like home-cooked meals, or sushi, or blueberry pie. These taste like old people. Mixed with highlighter fluid.

Fact #3

2010-01-19T15:38:00.001-06:00

Financial desperation isn't half bad if you: 1) are single, 2) haven't claimed any dependents on your tax refund, 3) own a camera. If you are missing one of these, find a friend that qualifies. If you have no friends, my condolences.

Let's put it this way: books are to college kids what trains are to hobos. That is to say, essential if you would like to go anywhere. And with my major, I'm likely to experience both realities.

My dad worries I'm not selfish enough. His view of me is a hippy-dippy born-again who throws her money violently at the homeless, and if on the Upper East Side, burns it. This simply is not so. However, all fathers would like to think their children kind and ridiculous, so I allow him the illusion.

My closest friend B and I have run into the predicament of not being able to afford basic college supplies, such as books. Thus, we have decided to take a weekend trip over to the nearest plasma donation site, slice open our largest vessels, and see who can fill their bag the quickest. We have rescheduled this trip several times now, mainly due to B's aversion to needles, pain, and blood, and the convenient cropping up of other, less distressing activities, such as watching an entire season of Gossip Girl, or walking in on a Shriner's rally (to be featured in this blog at a later date).

However, she has finally convinced herself that this Saturday is the day. We have three cars of people to document the event. Often enough, most things aren't worth doing unless you can document them properly on Facebook. Who needs memories if you can't make other people feel bad for not having as much fun? The photos will be featured shortly after.

Fact #2

2010-01-15T15:33:00.001-06:00

Life will never be as exciting as any movie. Ever.

You could argue that reality TV has cured this depressing truth, but I quite disagree. This is mainly due to the fact that people only tend to act out when they know they have a captive audience, and/or it has been scripted, as most everything is nowadays.

I came upon this weighted realization a couple weeks ago, after seeing Sherlock Holmes for the second time. Growing up, I had always wanted to be a detective. My dad was one for a time, but it wasn't his footsteps I wanted to follow diligently. A small town detective is only bombarded with petty paperwork. I had aspirations of being the next Dick Tracy, Nancy Drew, Basil of Baker Street (the closest I had to Holmes growing up).

I used to put up posters every day, looking for a Watson to my Holmes, crossing out the, to my ever-discerning seven year-old brain, intellectually unsuitable. Of course, there were very few that could ever keep up with my schemes. I doubt I could have kept up with my younger self now, so my sympathies go out to all of the neighbors I convicted then. Of course, nothing ever came of those convictions. I continued to pester my neighborhood friend, pealing "Let's go have adventures!" The girls beating the boys in kickball was as close as we got.

Going about the day-to-day in faith can be an adventure. Maybe God made Earth this dull so we'd want Heaven more. In the meantime, I'll continue to study codes and ciphers. Perhaps a secret society is just what this campus needs.

Fact #1

2010-01-02T19:48:00.001-06:00

Lying is the tactic of cowards, and sarcasm is the refuge of losers. Sadly, I'm a dedicated patron to both.

A lot of people, especially students of the Baptist institution I study at, find it important to inform me that my sarcasm makes people feel bad. I make it a point to counter that it does not, in fact, make people feel bad. It hurts their pride by preying on insecurities. Therefore, stop being such an obvious target and get your nose out of the air, you weak-minded snob.

Lying is more like a game. Compare it to gambling, if you will. Impossible to know when people will catch on, because humans are rather unpredictable human beings, as God is the only one who ever possibly truly know their true motives. Bully for Him. It's probably a habit I should break, but unfortunately they don't make patch for fibs.

Oh, by the way, if you're a reader from my last blog, congratulations, you found me. If you're new, welcome. I'm sure we'll be great friends.