into the wild.

Yesterday my roommate K and I went out to Weston, MO for some quality time with friends at the local Irish bar. Before hiding ourselves in the stone cellar with hard cider and cigars, we headed off the beaten path into Weston Bend State Park - where autumn lives.

We took some pictures and chatted a little, but mostly, we just sat in quiet, watching the sun as it sank below the horizon and lit up the trees.

I have to agree with Ken Burns - the national park is one of America's best ideas. Having spaces like this that are still somewhat wild, where people can retreat from the never-ceasing noise of modern life to look at something beautiful and have the chance to feel small, is an incredible blessing.

The best novel unit I taught at AVMS was Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer. As I read it to prepare for teaching, and then re-read it with my students, followed by watching the movie together, I finally found that I understood better the value that Chris McCandless saw in disappearing from society. When I saw the movie the year it came out, I just thought he was an idiot who was selfish and deserved to die because of his foolishness. But years later, now that I've had more time to live, I see it's nowhere near that simple. Removing yourself from the company of others and being in nature gives you space to breathe; to let your heart and mind recuperate from the trial of your workaday life. It gives you time to ponder truth.

Of course, once we've discovered the truth and refreshed ourselves, it's in our blood to want to turn and tell another soul about it. This impulse is evidence why Chris and the monks and the various religious ascetics who vanished into the wilderness have gotten it all wrong: living in total isolation from humanity won't bring the full mental and spiritual revelation you desire. Jesus himself, though He regularly would leave even His beloved disciples to go be with His Father in prayer, always returned to spend time with people.

So, in conclusion, there is a need for the human soul to go "into the wild," even if it's only a backyard, to rest and refresh and recuperate. But, at some point, we still need people.

Even if it's only to beat them senseless in speed Scrabble.

nanowrimo.

I am going to write a novel in November 2013.

But ten minutes ago, I realized how terrified this makes me.

I don't know if I can even do it. I have spent about three hours today trying to find a way to start, and I have nothing. I ran through everything I'd heard about writing. I remembered C.S. Lewis describing the picture he'd had in his head since he was 14, that of a faun in a snowy wood with a red scarf, an umbrella, and some packages, which became The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. But I couldn't find any pictures in my head. I read about Flannery O'Connor looking at a blank piece of paper for upwards of three hours until an idea came to her. But I don't know that I have three hours to spare.

Ten minutes ago, I told my roommate K that I was doing NaNoWriMo, but the problem was that I couldn't come up with a story idea and I was super scared. And I sat at our kitchen table with tears running down my face while she was probably wondering whether or not I'd lost all my marbles.

What I didn't elaborate on, what I'm realizing now, is that if I try this and I fail, it means I can't write. It means my dream of being a writer is dead. It means that I have nothing to tell anyone. It means I am a failure in the most intense sense of the word.

Why is writing a story suddenly so hard? As a girl, I had so many story ideas bubbling up inside of me, even though many of them were caricatures or copycats of my favorite books (the Chronicles of Narnia and the Redwall series were my two great inspirations). Where did all my ideas go? In a way, I feel more like a child, yet more like an adult, than I've ever felt before: a child in the sense that I literally feel lost and don't know how to start writing, but an adult in the sense that my freedom to dream and play and just try something feels totally hampered and hemmed in.

Fortunately, I have in my lap Anne Lamott's book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. She just reminded me that "good writing is about telling the truth." I think I can do that. I will find something to write about. I know I will. But I think I have to allow it to be less than inspired. And just do it. Because in the end, it will not really matter if I've created something "good" or not, and I have a hunch that it won't really mean I'm a failure at life if it's terrible stuff. What it will mean is that I finished a novel. I FINISHED A NOVEL. That sounds good to me.

So excuse me, because now I'm going to go tell a story.

why i love serving communion.

It's been four years since I last blogged.

Three years of teaching literature, grammar, and writing to seventh graders.

Now I've started two years of graduate school, condensed into one.

One year of freedom from the stress of working.

I'm finally ready to write again. And I'll start with something I've been wanting to write about for a long time: serving communion at my church.

A little background before I begin. At my church, members can volunteer to serve communion to the rest of the church body at any service. You don't have to be anything other than a member to serve, which means married couples, single people, men, women, leaders, and laypeople are all equally qualified. When the pastor finishes his prayer at the end of his sermon, servicegoers lift their heads and open their eyes to see a pair of servers waiting for them with bread, wine, and grape juice (for those with sensitive consciences) in hand. The band begins to play, and then people form a line toward the servers.  They tear off a piece of bread, dip it in either the wine or the juice, and eat it while heading back to their seats. Within one to two songs, everyone has been served, and then the servers head back to the front of the church, where they take turns serving each other before returning to their own seats.

It may sound simple. It may sound routine. But my experiences serving communion have been anything but that.

I love serving communion because it puts me in awe of the extent of God's saving grace. I'm always amazed at the rich variety of people I see coming toward me in the communion line. It reminds me that God calls people from all walks of life, all personal histories, all ages, all races, all ethnicities, all corners of the world, to Himself. It reminds me that these people are my brothers and sisters in Christ, people with whom I may have much in common or nothing at all, made relatives by sharing the same belief in the same Savior (whom we all call Brother as well as Lord).

I love serving communion because I am reminded of the significance of the symbols. If I'm holding a loaf of French bread wrapped in a scarlet napkin, I say, "The body of Christ, broken for you." If I'm holding the two cups, a glass one filled with juice and a stoneware one filled with wine, I say, "The blood of Christ, shed for you." People react to these words in various ways. Sometimes their eyes light up and the corners of their mouths draw up in a smile, joy shining in their faces. Sometimes tears pool as a wave of heartbroken gratitude breaks over their countenances. Sometimes their faces are impassive and no one but God knows what they're feeling inside. All of their reactions touch something deep in my spirit because I know in these moments that I'm not serving these people mere bread or mere liquid. What I'm offering to them, and what they are taking, is a reminder that their sins have been forgiven, that they are covered by grace, that a Savior knows them by name, and that they know Him. What a powerful opportunity to serve my brothers and sisters by reminding them of the deep truth behind the simple act they are performing.

I love serving communion because I get to see people as they really are - and myself as I really am. No matter who comes up to me, whether I know them personally or not, there is one thing that each of them have in common with me. We are all sinners. Each of us once lived desperately trying to fill our empty souls with some person or thing until salvation came and made us free. Although we are free in our spirit through Jesus Christ, we are still bound in our flesh to our sin, and so we observe the Lord's Supper, eating the bread and drinking the wine or juice, to remind us of our great need and His great provision. 

Every Christian should take the opportunity to hold out the bread and wine or juice to their fellow Christians. Not only is it an opportunity to serve others by reminding them to look to Christ, it is a chance to reorient yourself back to Him as well. It may even leave you with the same reflection that John Newton, the author of the hymn "Amazing Grace," had at the end of his life:

"...two things I remember: I am a great sinner and Christ is a great Savior."

10 realizations.

1. It is not okay, after 4 years of celiac disease, to forget to ask the waiter at the Chinese restaurant about the possible wheat gluten content in your Chinese food meal. Your intestines will gripe about it later.

2. Nothing brings distant friends together like an "Engaged" status update on Facebook.

3. Scrapbooking is an art, and those who are good at it are legitimate artists.

4. twosecondsaway is a talented Kansas musical duo. (http://newmusicmonday.com/)

5. Relationships aren't easy, and the ones that seem perfect often need the most TLC.

6. Growing in a relationship with God doesn't happen by sitting on your booty thinking deep thoughts and only reading books that are not the Bible. The Word is the Word is the Word, get in it.

7. It's one thing to be sad about a person's problems. It's another to judge her for having those problems.

8. If you try to show off for your runner boyfriend in a 5K by running really fast, you might get a double stitch in both your sides and end up walking a third of the race.

9. People are forgetful, which can sometimes be a positive thing.

10. The word "Phantastes" is pronounced "fantasies." Whoops.

photographs and memories (sad like a jim croce song)

I've been going through my photos today, trying to prepare myself for the massive task of scrapbooking my college years. I assume that for most people, this is a fun thing to do. Hey, look at my funny hair! Hey, what kind of a face is that kid making?! Wow, we were just beginning to be friends! Look how young we are! Etc. On top of the reminiscing, some people are just naturally attuned to photos, colored paper, and gluing it all to scrapbook albums. Me, not so much. Scrapbooking is more of a nightmare because I get overwhelmed thinking about how to lay my entire photo collection all out, in chronological order, selecting only the best photos, and then making it all aesthetically pleasing. Gah.

But I digress - for a while, I really was enjoying going through my photos. I have some funny ones that are terrific and quite a few that really capture the essence of random road trips and hangouts from my first 2 years at K-State. I find myself thinking, "Wow, this scrapbooking endeavor might actually work out and even be fun!"

But after a while, I noticed how strained my smile looks in many of these pictures. I noticed it most often in those early sorority photos with tons of girls (predictable - we barely knew each other then) but also in candid pictures with friends and with my boyfriend at the time. And I hate to recognize that strain in my smile because I remember exactly how I was feeling at those times. I was either: A) faking it, B) nervous or C) mildly depressed. For a variety of real and imagined reasons.

Then all these feelings about the people in these photos come crashing in. Now I'm sitting here, clicking through pictures, looking at faces and thinking of their names, all people that for whatever weird reason I didn't try to get to know. Or I didn't understand at the time. Or I thought didn't like me.

(!)

And I totally feel in despair. It makes me so sad. My heart feels heavy with the weight of these burdens of memory. Memories of what I perceive as failures to build relationships. Why was I so afraid of them? Why did I think he/she didn't like me? Why was I so weird about that relationship? I wish I could let it all rest. But I don't know if that will ever happen. The thoughts are always present; often hidden, but there. Ready to pop out and ruin my evening, like tonight.

Here's the question I have had on my mind for years now: If I miss out on an opportunity to build a relationship with someone, have I missed out on a tiny portion of God's plan for my life? Have I skipped over a crucial part of God's will for my life? Have I messed it all up beyond repair? What if I was supposed to hold on to a relationship...but lost it along the way? I want to trust that God will restore people to my life if He planned on having them there...but at the same time, the fear of my destruction of those relationships tends to speak louder than the security of His goodness and good plans for me.

It's just sad. Really, really sad. I have to get over it, and the remedy I'm taking is to stop with the photos, get a bowl of cereal, and talk to my dad for a while. I should probably talk to my other Dad as well. I'm so glad He listens to all this stuff still.

love song for Spangler Graphics.

I'm dedicating this post to my summer place of employment.

Here is where I work from 7 am to 3 pm: the illustrious illuminative office of Spangler Graphics, creator and shipper of Premier School Agendas. That is my lovely leading boss lady Lilly in the background. I freely admit that this job would be a horror without her.




















on the left is Holly and on the right is Lilly, 2 of the 3 amigas de la oficina of which i am the 3rd member. notice our collection of found notes on the cubicle divider thingy.















sometimes we're silly. a lot of the time, actually. it comes with the territory.















sometimes we're pretty. that's ashlee from upstairs, our 4th amiga. these 3 ladies have impacted me more than they know. they are each such incredible women.
















and i am lucky enough to be working again with this guy:
















The point of my post is this: At a random and often heinous production plant in KC, I have worked with some of the most ardent people of faith and had the joy of watching them seamlessly integrate life and faith into producing school agendas. I have had great conversations with people whose lives look very different from mine. I have learned how to work computer programs that are useless pretty much everywhere else. And I've found love in multiple ways.

God is so good! Seriously!

further up and further in.

i'm sitting at the Bistro where i really ought to be cranking out this very last literature essay of my college career. i'm supposed to be writing about his poetry compared to his poetry. got to love those old dead white guys. (really, though...if you ever want to read about wrestling with pride and grace, salvation and self-condemnation, God and man...try them. they are sweet.)

God has blessed me. really and truly. in the past week and a half, He has allowed me to enjoy several exclusively Manhattan experiences. these include: many coffees with friends, a morning on the Konza with my BFF, a snowcone from Tad's, 2 gigantic bowls of Call Hall ice cream, lunch at Van Zile with a friend, the view on Manhattan Hill, 2 date parties with friends and my sweet-action boyfriend, a couple of wedding showers, etc. etc. etc.

in college, i have been burdened by these crippling fears: that i didn't do enough to love people, to invest in relationships, or have the kind of life a Christian ought to have. but recently, as i pack up my worldly goods and drive back to Kansas City, i have the best feeling. i feel like i am able to leave here with a contented heart. not everything has been perfect. i do think some relationship troubles could have been avoided had i been wiser. but, the blessings and joys far outweigh the sorrows and troubles. to paraphrase my very favorite author:

"There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind."

of course, he was talking about heaven - but i think i can apply this to closing old chapters of life and opening new ones.

and of course, a Narnia moment applies to: the cry of "further up and further in!" resounded on the Pevensies' lips and the hearts of every noble beast as they raced each other deeper and deeper into Aslan's country.

we're not there yet, by any means. but even though we're not yet in Aslan's country, we can still hear His voice and chase after it. that's what this summer and the coming years are about. so bring it on. wherever He may lead, may i follow. from work to student teaching to ?.

further up and further in.