The Sassy Seminarian

...or you can let it come to you.

2011-02-15T18:06:00.000-05:00

[This is the second of two posts that center around my recent vocational discernment. If you haven't read part one, jump over here first!]

Then, in January, I started this work in Admissions. This work that involves entering data into a difficult-to-navigate database, learning an endless stream of acronyms, and plenty of paper cuts.

This work that involves walking with others as they discern God's call in their lives, matching prospective students with current students who are eager to share their experiences, and being surrounded by an incredibly gifted team every day.

And then, less than three weeks after this dream-job interview, I became sure that God can call us to more than one thing.

So, until May 2013, I will live into this new knowledge by serving as the Associate Director of Admissions right here, at the seminary that has helped me understand the breadth and depth of serving God. It's funny: I have been so eagerly anticipating the end of my life as a full-time student, all the while dreading the thought of leaving this community. God so fully, fully provides.

At my endorsement interview last April, the pastor who was then serving as an Assistant to the Bishop (who is, in a delightful twist of fate, my new boss) recommended that I consider the possibility of serving in campus ministry at some point in my career. I was overjoyed at this suggestion, because at its heart, campus ministry entails walking alongside young adults as they figure out what it means to follow God's leading, to fully live into the vocations to which they have been called, and that aspect of ministry has always excited me. During the next chapter of my life, I will get to do exactly that, but with young adults, "regular" adults (whatever that means!), and even much older adults, all of whom are God's beloved children. In a roundabout way, this is precisely what I have always felt God calling me to do, it just looks a little different than I imagined. And it, too, feels like home.

I feel incredibly privileged to be able to serve in this capacity for the next two years. This call will afford me the opportunity to travel around the country to engage in conversation about discernment and hear the different and beautiful ways in which God calls God's people to public ministry. And when I return from these excursions, I will settle back into life on the Ridge and remember why I came here in the first place: because I so clearly see God at work here, and that, my friends, gives me great hope.

NB: The titles for this post and the one before it come from Sometimes a Beggar by Caedmon's Call, off of their latest album, Raising Up The Dead. Good stuff.

And you can search for what to say...

2011-02-14T13:14:00.001-05:00

[This is the first of two posts that center around my recent vocational discernment. For part two, check here!]

Back in November, I started a blog post and never finished it. Here it is, in all its glory:

And that's as far as I got.

This was on November 18th, 2010. Two months and twenty-seven days ago. It wasn't the first time I felt that way, and it was far from the last. I was in the midst of an identity crisis (no, really), and it was terrifying. The post I started on that day has evolved a bit, and now has an ending that I truly could not have imagined just a few months ago.

I've found that every academic year carries a theme for me. Often, it stems from something that I've been thinking about on my own, but then pops up frequently in class, or becomes the subject of Refectory conversation. I've found that I can't force a theme, or every mention of it will feel artificial. When it naturally emerges, it's a welcome surprise and a constant reminder to listen to God's voice.

The theme that emerged around the beginning of this year was whether or not God can call us to more than one thing. It came up nominally in class, but predominantly in my personal life. That aforementioned identity crisis revolved around whether or not I was following God's call to be an Associate in Ministry, or if I was ignoring God's call to be an ordained pastor.

I spent a good bit of time, that week in mid-November, in an office in the North Wing of our academic building. One of the people I trust the most guided me through the painful process of looking inward and asking myself if I was being truly faithful to who God is calling me to be. I felt hopeless and, for the first time in my life, completely unsure of where I was going next.

I thought about going on internship. About taking a year to spend more time discerning. I thought about just switching to another program, as if it were a safety net, just in case it's what I was supposed to be doing. But I kept coming back to this program, to this roster, and it felt like home.

In the end (with the surprising help of TinkerBell, which is another blog post entirely), I discerned that I am doing what God has called me to do. Had I switched to another program or another roster, I still think I would be doing what God has called me to do. Because I really, truly believe that God can call us to more than one thing. I believe that God gives us a host of gifts that can be used in different ways, and it is simply a matter of being faithful in the moment. And being faithful in that moment, for me, meant pursuing a call to congregational youth and young adult ministry.

Well, that's what I thought at the end of November.

I pushed through the rest of the semester, and wound up with an interview at the end of December, thanks to a dear friend's recommendation. It was perfect. The congregation is exactly the kind I've dreamed of working in for years. The pastor and I got along quite nicely, and I think we would work well together in ministry. They want to get creative with young adult ministry. Like I said: perfect.

Leaving the interview, I told myself not to get too attached. I wasn't sure if they would be able to wait until May for a youth worker, and even if they were, another candidate might be a much better fit for the position. No expectations, no crushed dreams. Simple. But deep down, I felt like that job, that congregation, that call, was home. I was absolutely convinced that was where I would be post-graduation.

And, well, that was at the end of December.

Persecution or Inconvenience?

2011-01-04T22:49:00.001-05:00

Last semester, I had three classes on Tuesdays. On one particular Tuesday, we ended up talking about Christians and persecution in two of those classes. In both cases, I felt like the token dissenter, playing Devil's Advocate just for the sake of stirring the pot. I took the side that I cannot stand by the claim that American Christians are, as a whole, being persecuted in our society today.

Except when I made that statement, I wasn't just trying to stir the pot. I was being completely sincere.

In my first class, we were discussing how Christians were persecuted in the book of Acts. If you've read any of this book, you know that Christians were seriously persecuted then. They were driven out of their hometowns, thrown in jail, and even killed because of their beliefs. That's serious persecution. As a friend pointed out later, there are definitely Christians in America who are persecuted. This friend used the example of Rachel Scott, the teenage girl who was killed in the Columbine High School shooting almost 12 years ago, potentially because of her outspoken Christian faith. That is persecution.

But Rachel Scott is an outlier. As my friend Kerri put it, "[American] Christians might be inconvenienced, but not persecuted." In both of my classes, part of the discussion focused on the current state of Christmas in America. On how retailers are reluctant to say "Merry Christmas," and opt for an inclusive "Happy Holidays" instead. How nativity scenes are being taken down from in front of government buildings. I can understand how Christians might feel inconvenienced by this: a holiday that is central to your belief system is not being recognized, you don't know who you can say "Merry Christmas" to, and the list goes on. But persecuted? I don't buy it.

If anything, Christians are in a place of privilege in this country. When the media portrays the "perfect American family," they almost always go to church on Sunday, say grace around the table, and display some other sort of religiosity. There are variations in the statistics, but anywhere from 76-82% of Americans claim to be Christians. If you've been to church lately, you may have noticed that far less than 76% of your community is seated beside you. This might be a bold statement, but I would posit that most Americans just default to Christianity when asked for religious affiliation. They wouldn't do that if American Christians were so persecuted.

I want to be careful to give each person the respect they deserve. If someone feels persecuted, I don't get to determine whether or not they actually feel that way. But I would encourage that person to seriously consider those who are persecuted in harsh and unjust ways. Those who are tortured and killed for professing their beliefs. Those who are served with criminal charges for having a Bible in their home. While encountering strife among family and friends or not having a sales clerk wish you a merry Christmas might feel inconvenient, is it really persecution? By claiming that American Christians are persecuted, might it devalue the pain that Christians around the world (and non-Christians in America, for that matter) are experiencing?

As another friend, Adam, so eloquently stated, "There are some days I'm hungry, but I ain't starving!" And I think that's a good perspective to keep in mind.

Pumpkin Fluff Parfaits

2010-10-09T20:47:00.003-04:00

I've been a very bad blogger, I know. But somehow, I got all consumed with CPE in all its 60-hours-a-week glory, and then was thrown right into being the Summer Greek social coordinator, and then started the semester. So there's been little to no time for blogging. Sad day.

Also sad? I only realized that I have a few more months of being a sassy seminarian. So I should probably use up the name for all its worth before my tenure as such runs out.

I don't aspire to be a food blogger, but I always like trying new things, so here it is. Earlier this week, a friend's facebook post caught my eye:

So, I resolved that these would grace my family's new kitchen this weekend, and today I made it happen. Who says I'm not productive on the weekends?

First gather some ingredients.

1 package of sugar free/fat free vanilla instant pudding mix

1 15 oz can of pure pumpkin [NOT pumpkin pie filling!] (or 15 oz of the real stuff if you're good like that)

1 8 oz tub of Cool Whip Lite (thawed per directions)

1 cup of fat free milk

Pumpkin Pie spice

Ginger snaps (4-6 cookies per parfait)

Plenty of miniature semisweet chocolate chips

Start by pouring the milk into a large bowl.

Then, if you're going to be photographing this whole process, find yourself a willing assistant. Then take a blurry picture of her, because you haven't quite figured out how to properly manually adjust your dad's awesome DSLR camera.

Pour in the package of instant pudding mix while whisking, so the mix doesn't clump. The assistant might become unreasonably excited about this step.

Whisk it until it's all combined and the consistency of pudding. It will be thicker than normal pudding, but that's a good thing. Try not to eat it as is.

Now, add some of the pumpkin pie spice.

In this family, we like a lot of pumpkin pie spice.

Well, most of us do.

Now, pop open that can of pumpkin.

Ponder it for a moment.

Model it, if you so choose.

Then dump it in the milk/pudding/spice mixture. All of it.

Then, have your assistant do some actual work and mix it all around.

Make sure it's all nice and combined.

Then grab some whipped cream.

And dump the whole container in the bowl.

Then mix all of that around...

...until it looks like this! Now, you could stop right here, put a good cup of it in a bowl, and eat it. It's basically pumpkin mousse. It's light, fluffy heaven in a bowl.

If you're like me and you don't want to make the parfaits right away, put the bowl in the fridge. You should refrigerate any leftover fluff anyway. This will also help firm it up a little bit, which is good for the parfaits.

While the fluff is in the fridge, go to your nearest IKEA and pick up these adorable little glasses. You can get a package of six 6-ounce glasses for $1.50! Truthfully: we bought these today specifically for the purpose of making the parfaits. There's no shame in that.

Grab one of the glasses and a plastic bag.

Put the ginger snaps in the bag, and crush them using the glass. I left some large pieces and made some into the consistency of a powder, but that's entirely up to you.

Put them back in a bowl if you're going to be photographing your process.

Grab your bowl of miniature chocolate chips and try not to eat them.

Fill the cup about halfway, maybe a little more, with the fluff.

If you drop some on the counter and then accidentally smear it, pretend that you're on Top Chef, where they always smear some sort of foam or cream or whatever on the plate.

Put a generous amount of ginger snaps on top of the fluff. I like to use the bigger chunks for this part.

Then, after you've figured out the sweet spot of the manual focus, add some of the miniature chocolate chips, especially around the edge.

Add some more fluff on top and sprinkle with some more ginger snaps. I used the powder-like cookies for the topping.

Then, if you love chocolate like I do, add some more miniature chocolate chips. Or, as my friend up there suggested, some chocolate shavings. Whatever floats your boat.

Then, your mom and sister will tell you there aren't enough ginger snaps in the middle.

So you'll add some more, and your mom will tell you it needs ginger snaps on the bottom.

So you'll add them, and then you will have found the perfect combination of fluff and ginger snaps.

And there you have it: Pumpkin Fluff Parfaits. Refrigerate them until you're ready to eat, and then enjoy this fall treat! If you use all of the light ingredients, it's a little more healthy than most desserts, so it's practically guilt free :]

Any favorite fall recipes you'd like to share?

[Oh! And if you'd like to see all of the ridiculous pictures my sister and I took during this process, check them out here. There are 114 of them. Seriously. I promise you'll laugh.]

Fear or Love?

2010-06-18T19:36:00.000-04:00

Over the past few months, I have become an NPR addict. I used to listen from time to time, or peruse their website, but I wasn't an avid listener. For some reason, this past January, I made NPR one of the presets on my XM radio, and I very rarely change it now. Except for when my sister gets in the car and, before I can even turn the key, begs, "Can we pleeeeease not listen to NPR?!" I'm one of those people who starts every other conversation with, "You know, I was listening to NPR the other day..." and I love hour-long drives that begin on the hour, so I can catch a full show. And much like my friend Sarah, I will sit in my car outside of my destination to listen to the end of a program (or, if I'm able, I'll run inside and pull up the online XM player on my laptop). It's okay, I know I'm a nerd.

Anyway, today, I was driving to my clinical site, listening to Tell Me More, and Melissa Etheridge came on. Now, I like Melissa enough. I can sing along to a bunch of her songs when they come on the radio, and I think she's a great musician, but I've never waited in line outside of Best Buy to pick up her latest album. But this morning, I heard her say something that has been running through my head all day. In talking about her new album, Fearless Love, she said that along her journey, including a battle with breast cancer a few years ago, she has learned that "every choice we make is either love or fear, in anything, everything we do."

Love or fear. Everything we do is either love or fear.

At the exact moment I was listening to this interview, I was feeling incredibly exhausted, both mentally and physically, and reluctant to get out of the car once I got to my clinical site. But then I started thinking...if I sat in the car, I would be making the decision out of fear. Fear of initiating conversations with people I don't know, fear of saying the wrong thing or not taking advantage of the moment in a conversation, fear of failing. But if I got out of the car, I would be making the decision out of love. A love for every person inside of that facility, a love for hearing their stories, a love for ministry.

Recently, in a conversation about goals, a friend said that she never says she "will" do something, but rather that she "intends" to do something. When she says, "I will," she rarely actually does. But intentions run much deeper. It connotes an internal motivation to achieve something. For this friend, using such language helps her accomplish her goals more often. So, taking a cue from her, I intend to live and act out of love, rather than fear.

This sounds awfully nebulous, I know. Sometimes love means holding back, or it can mean saying or doing something difficult. And that can often look like fear. I know that this summer, which will continue to be filled with exhaustion, pain, emptiness, and most of all, learning, it will be difficult to push away that fear and instead choose to act out of love. But I can't help but think what a rich and joyful season this could be, should I make that conscious decision. So I will ask those with whom I spend the most time to check in on me and make sure I am not reverting to fear.

And I intend to love deeply, honestly, and often.

"We change, whether we like it or not." [Ralph Waldo Emerson]

2010-05-29T03:19:00.000-04:00

Generally, when I'm overwhelmed and anxious, I have quite a bit of trouble sleeping. The best remedy I've found is to make progress on the cause of my anxiety, helping my heart rate go down and my brain to stop stumbling over itself long enough for me to fall asleep. In the middle of a semester, I'll lay awake for hours stressing about assignment deadlines, but as soon as I jump out of bed and do twenty minutes of work, I'm sleeping like a baby with no trouble. When it's time to pack up and move out of any one of the temporary residences I've inhabited for the past five years, I run through every item that needs packing while trying to get some shut eye, but can only achieve that blissful state after emptying my desk drawers into a movers box at two in the morning.

Well, there are no assignments due in the next few days, and all of the boxes that need packing are about sixty miles north of my current location, and although they are weighing on my mind a bit, they aren't the primary source of my anxiety at the moment. I've laid here for an hour, trying to figure out why I'm so unsettled, and it all boils down to my least favorite six-letter word: change.

This is my first summer not living at home. I've lived on campus at college and grad school for five years, but I've always been able to spend my summers in my hometown: spending days off with childhood best friends, carting my younger sister to and from daycamp and various other activities, shopping with mom on a lazy Saturday, enjoying my father's grilling experiments, sitting by the pool at a family party...all the comforts of home. It's not so much that I'm nervous about living away from family and friends, I know I can do that. But to upset something that has become so routine in my life reminds me that I am about to experience immense change, and I'm none too happy about it.

This summer, I will complete a summer unit of Clinical Pastoral Education. This is an accredited program that helps those in ministry learn more about pastoral care. I have a lot to learn on the subject, so part of me is excited about the learning experience. But CPE is also heavily focused on learning about yourself. According to those who have gone before me, this summer I will learn why I react to certain situations in certain ways, what unresolved issues I have in my life, and what I need to work on to be a more pastorally caring presence. Just putting it all out there...I am terrified of CPE. I think that what scares me the most is I have no idea why I'm so afraid, just that I am. I'm pretty sure it has to do with not knowing what to expect, so I'm hoping some of these fears will be eased shortly. But it is mostly because everyone says that you emerge a changed person after CPE, and like I said, change and I have a tumultuous relationship.

While CPE will be the big change in my life, there are a bunch of other changes happening, some bigger than others, that have me tossing and turning. My family is moving next month, and while I am excited for a brand new house with brand new doorknobs, light fixtures and appliances, I am saddened to think that this might be my very last night in the only permanent home I have known for 23 years. The people (and dachshund!) I love are going to the new house, but we are leaving behind the marks of door hinges that came down many, many years ago after breaking a fall, thus busting my chin; the worn carpet where I played "airplane" with my baby sister for hours (even after she spit up on me that one time); the kitchen floor where I spilled an entire bottle of sprinkles, much to the delight of the aforementioned baby sister; the backyard that holds a long-forgotten swing set and the under-appreciated grape arbor; and all of the other memories that I can't even remember, but will surely miss. There are things that I won't miss, like a basement that floods with too much rain, and the complete lack of counter space in the kitchen. But it will be difficult to be removed from the moving and settling process, only traveling through on weekends and holidays for the next year, and then for who knows how long after that. I'm afraid that settling in the new house will change my family, and I won't be there to be a part of it. It's a little irrational, as I'm incredibly close to my family, but it is undoubtedly going to bring about change.

Then there are the little changes, the ones that may be strange at first, but are ultimately for the best. Things like meeting roommates and learning how to live with someone new, even if only for a few months. Or having to wear professional attire every day instead of reliable old jeans and flats. Or a best friend getting married. Or saying goodbye to a beautiful, vibrant toddler who you watched once a week for the past nine months, as she and her parents move several states away to answer God's call.

These are the things that haven't allowed my mind to stop spinning or my eyes to remain closed, even though I have an incredibly busy weekend approaching quickly. I tried to think of something I could accomplish in half an hour's time to give me temporary closure and grant me enough sleep to be productive tomorrow. Letting it all out and making my fears known is part of it, but I've realized that I also need to issue myself a little reminder: "Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God" [philippians 4:6].

I've been missing those "prayer" and "thanksgiving" parts, forgetting to be thankful for the vast amount of stability and security I've been given throughout my life. Forgetting to pray for peace in the midst of change, all while be thankful for the opportunity to experience new things. And how often I overlook the compassion and grace of God when anxiety takes over, preferring to abate my fears rather than to pray for a peaceful spirit. So as my eyelids become increasingly heavy and my thoughts order themselves neatly in my mind, I think it might be time to try a new remedy for these sleepless nights.

Clean & Unclean

2010-04-29T14:02:00.001-04:00

This semester, I am taking Witness of the Gospels, a class where we look at all four Gospels and how they came to be, as well as what they are actually saying through the original language. At the beginning of the semester, we were given one text from each Gospel and were asked to choose one to work with for eighteen weeks. I chose Mark 7:24-30, the story of the Syrophoenician woman:

From there [Jesus] set out and went away to the region of Tyre.^* He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice, ²⁵but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. ²⁶Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. ²⁷He said to her, ‘Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.’ ²⁸But she answered him, ‘Sir,^* even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.’ ²⁹Then he said to her, ‘For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.’ ³⁰So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.

During my drama class in January, we worked a little with this text, and I wanted to know more about it. We did quite a bit of exegetical work (figuring out what the Greek is saying), and then wrote a heady, academic paper that was actually really helpful in deciphering the real message. Then, we were graced with the integrative project. The task? To use what we found in our exegetical work to creatively present the text. Some of my classmates wrote really insightful sermons, some wrote beautiful and/or hysterical songs, and some created visual art. It has been a huge blessing to see my friends use their talents to creatively preach the word of God.

For my project, I took a cue from the Woman at the Well video that I found a few years back. If you haven't seen it, watch it immediately, it's incredible. Anyway, I wrote a slam poetry monologue based on this story, and then recorded it for the project. I've embedded the video below and included the text. This helped me learn quite a bit about the story of the Syrophoenician woman, and I really enjoyed creating this.

I am a woman, of no distinction, of little importance.
I am a woman who they say is unclean.
I avoid you in the street, if I’d touch you, you’d recoil.
And you can’t even see that I’m a person too,
I’m a person who is so much more like you,
Because clean and unclean may not mean what they seem.
This demon in my child, it has ripped us apart, cursing, beating, swearing, tearing, condemning, hating, shouting, doubting.
I have prayed and I have paid, in every way you could imagine, but this spirit haunts my daughter and shows no sign of release.
They say that you’ve healed others:
You can remove a leper’s spots and make a paralyzed man get up and walk, and give a withered hand new life and stop bleeding, pain and strife,
And I heard you healed a man who was unclean just like us;
We can’t help where we come from, and we don’t know why we weren’t chosen, but we know that we deserve to be loved like the rest,
Because clean and unclean may not mean what they seem.
They said that you would come to this house;
Close the curtains, lock the door, rest your feet, take some time, take some time just for you.
But there’s no time for my daughter, how much longer can she bear it?
I’ve sat across the road, hoping, wishing, praying, doubting, needing, for you to appear and release us from this pain.
So imagine my pain when you brush me off and cast aside
Comparing me to the dogs who roam the streets where they reside
I won’t bark but I’ll beg, and I’ll beg but won’t bite.
I’ll take what you can give us, crumbs and scraps from off the floor
That they would step on, sweep up, throw out, disregard, even ignore
I’ll take what you can give us, we haven’t gotten much before,
Because clean and unclean may not mean what they seem.
Now there’s a change in your eyes.
Did I offend, affront, insult or taunt?
I wait for the cold shoulder I’ve come to know so well, the one that chills my heart and lets my daughter’s demon dwell.
But then you do what I asked; you say my child is healed, that from here you made the demon yield.
I want to thank you or to kiss you or to show you what you’ve done
For me and for my daughter and our new life that’s just begun
But I can only turn and run
And when I see her I’m undone
Because she’s smiling, laughing, blinking, talking, doing all the things we’d missed.
I never saw your face again, but I heard about your words and deeds, the things you did for people like me
So when everyone asks how my daughter got well,
I tell them about the man who knows
That clean and unclean may not mean what they seem.

All items in this post ©Julie Stecker 2010. May not be used without permission.

Endorsed & Edified

2010-04-19T17:14:00.000-04:00

Recently, I wrote about processing the process. At the time, I was struggling with penning my endorsement essay (endorsement being the next step towards rostered leadership in the ELCA). At the time, it seemed overwhelming and scary and I wasn't sure I could jump that hurdle. Luckily, I finished the essay the next day, giving me time to sit with it, have colleagues read over it, make the necessary revisions and submit it to my synod. Then, I began the waiting game; for two weeks, I went about my schoolwork, trying not to be nervous about the interview that loomed in the near future.

This past week was particularly stressful. I had a comprehensive exam on Monday, a book to be read and a paper to be written by Tuesday, and on Thursday, I handed in a huge exegetical paper that kept me in the library until 3:35 a.m. I was exhausted by the time Thursday night rolled around, and try as I might, I could not fall asleep for hours. Chalk it up to nerves or the copious amount of coffee I consumed on Thursday, but while I lay awake, all I could think about was my pending interview. I had no idea what to expect and was terrified that I would give an incorrect answer or make an unintentionally heretical theological statement.

Friday came soon enough, and after reading through my essay several times and receiving the affirmations of classmates and professors, I walked confidently to the location of my interview and was delighted to see the two members of my committee with whom I am most comfortable. After talking amongst themselves for a few minutes, I sat down with the members of my committee and a faculty member, and we engaged in one of the most life-giving conversations I've ever had. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to post what they asked, so we'll play it safe and just say that we talked about the various areas in which I have grown over the past year, and how my theological education has impacted my understanding of youth ministry. I realized new things about myself during the interview, and it has given me a renewed understanding of my own call to ministry. My personal victory? I didn't cry once. If you know me, you understand the significance!

Going into the interview, as I said, I was scared and overwhelmed. I came out on the other side refreshed and excited. The exact opposite of what I expected to happen. This says something about not letting our expectations dictate our experiences, and I think it was an important lesson to learn. But even more, I think I finally realized the core benefit of the Candidacy process. Certainly, it is in place to evaluate our qualifications to be rostered leaders and track our progress during theological education, but I think it's much deeper than that. The process can edify us. It can point to our baptism and remind us of how deeply it is connected to what we are doing now, and what we will do in the future.

Maybe I have a fantasy-like picture of how endorsement should go, but I can only speak from my own experience. My advice, for what it's worth, is to go into these interviews with an open mind and a willingness to learn new things about yourself, all while being true to who you are. Trust the process and seek the support of the great cloud of witnesses who are praying for you to have a positive experience. Breathe in, breathe out, and remember that you are a child of God.

Oh, and the results of my interview? I was recommended for endorsement by the members of my committee, and they will take their decision back to the full committee, who will vote on it in the near future. God is so faithful :]

Just sit

2010-04-09T02:10:00.001-04:00

Job^* took a potsherd with which to scrape himself, and sat among the ashes...When [Job's friends] saw him from a distance, they did not recognize him, and they raised their voices and wept aloud; they tore their robes and threw dust in the air upon their heads. They sat with him on the ground for seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great. [Job 2:8, 12-13]

I have some dear friends who are struggling with significant pain right now, mostly due to loss of a loved one. Some are faring better than others, but pain is pain and grief is grief.

In the book of Job, a man has everything taken from him. His livestock die, his land is ruined, his health is shattered, and his children are killed. His wife tells him to curse God and die, just to end all of the suffering. But instead, Job takes a potsherd (literally a shard of pottery), scrapes off the sores that have plagued him, and sits in the midst of the ashes. In his grief, he can do nothing but sit.

His friends come along shortly thereafter, and while they will prove to be unhelpful later on, in that moment when Job can do nothing but sit, they in turn sit with him. For seven days and for seven nights they sit. Not because they were good at sitting or only desired to sit, or even because they thought that's what God was telling them to do. They sat for they saw his suffering was very great.

I'm not a sitter by nature. I'm a talker or a sympathizer or a fixer. But I'm learning to be a sitter. I've been blessed in the past by those who sit, when my suffering was very great. To have someone join me in the heap of ashes and practice the ministry of presence has brought healing to my soul without a single word uttered. So now, when it is my turn to comfort a friend in need, I am reminded that it is not always in the loving words we say or the sage advice we offer, but in the being with the ones we love.

Learn to sit. Let others sit with you. And start to be healed by the knowledge that you are loved and cherished and worthy of the time spent just sitting.

StuffChristiansLike Scorecard!

2010-04-06T14:32:00.001-04:00

One of my favorite blogs is StuffChristiansLike.net. As if the blog weren't hilarious enough, there's also a book, and I'm just going to let you go ahead and read the blog/buy the book so you can split your sides and never forget to give a good Christian side hug.

Today, those of us who read SCL and also blog are putting together an incredibly important and helpful post today. It is something that every Christian needs to read and take to heart, because it the topic will have resounding impact on our culture for all time. The question you have all been asking: Is that contestant on American Idol a Christian?

John Acuff, the brains behind SCL, has linked back to all of these posts today, as we are each posting a different piece of the scorecard. Check them all out and and evaluate your favorite American Idol contestant for how devout a Christian he or she may be ;]

67. They wear a promise keepers t-shirt that says “I love my wife” just to make sure everyone knows they’re taken = +2 points

To add up your score with over a 130 other ideas on this scorecard, visit stuffchristianslike.net!

One More Time With Feeling

2010-04-01T16:47:00.000-04:00

I may or may not have mentioned that one of my favorite musicians is Regina Spektor. I saw her in concert many many moons ago (okay, in 2005) when she opened for the Killers and Keane, and I was less than impressed. Then Begin to Hope came out, and Fidelity is just so darn catchy and Samson so clever and gorgeous, I couldn't resist buying the whole album and falling in love. Begin to Hope is really a gateway Regina album: it's mainstream enough to have wide appeal, but once you've acclimated yourself to her sound, you start to love the quirkiness of Mary Ann Meets the Gravediggers and Soviet Kitsch and then you're on a slippery slope of looking for all of her unreleased concert tracks that are kinda weird but completely ingenious. I saw Regina in concert at Messiah in 2007, and it. was. increds. One of the best shows I've seen. If you can catch her live, DO IT.

So anyway, this summer, Far was released, and it's even better than Begin to Hope. It's more accessible and insanely catchy and good Lord I cannot stop listening to it. Go out and buy it right now and import it into your iTunes and watch the play count eclipse the play counts of all other albums. Except for Wicked, let's be honest. But anyway, I'm not getting paid to endorse this (I wish), I just want to spread the love. Especially the love for Human of the Year, which I would put on my top ten favorite songs of all time (and that is a hard list to break into). Here's a lyrical sampling:

Outside the cars are beeping
out a song just in your honor,
and though they do not know it
all mankind are now your brothers

And thus the cathedral had spoken
wishing well to all us sinners,
then with a sigh grew silent
'til next year's big human winner

Go get your life changed by the musical stylings of Miss Regina Spektor, resident antifolk goddess.

I love you, so I won't steal your Tristan Prettyman thunder with the title of this post

2010-03-31T00:00:00.002-04:00

Today is a special, special day.

Exactly twenty-three years ago, the second mom that I didn't even know I had at the time (I was only 34 days old, you know) gave birth to one of the most fantastic and beautiful people I've ever met.

Mom & Dad #2 named her Lindsay.

I met Lindsay in first grade, and we hated each other. Don't worry, there's a happy ending, and it gives us a good story to tell now. You see, we were in different first grade classes, but we were both in a group of students who were pulled out of the milieu of seven-year olds for Gifted & Talented. Because we were excessively both (I'm so modest), we were arch-enemies. But we realized that we could join forces and obliterate the competition (it is fierce in grade school), so we decided to be best friends.

Then, the cosmos aligned on the first day of second grade, and we showed up to school looking like this (completely unplanned):

The rest is history.

To go through our entire friendship, even at the speed of light, would take weeks. Maybe even months. But this, this I can say in the space of a blog post:

My dear Lindsay, I love you so very much. Thanks for being the first sister I ever had, and my mom's favorite 1.5. Thank you for decorating Barbie cars with me in art class, and helping me learn how to ride a bike, and getting in trouble with me for taking the long way around the block, and saving my sister's life that one time, and prank calling boys at my birthday party, and always being my favorite softball teammate, and giving me the tajas, and being there for every crush and subsequent crash, and coming to visit me at the Mess, and letting me come visit you in North Carolina and Annapolis, and learning so much about yourself in Australia, and having the best New Year's Eve parties, and entertaining me via gchat at the most opportune times, and a billion other things that have absorbed into my subconscious over the past sixteen years.

Oh, right, and thank you for being my best friend.

Happy birthday, beautiful. I hope it's the best one ever.

Processing the process

2010-03-25T16:27:00.001-04:00

In order to gain admittance to many of the degree programs offered by ELCA seminaries, you are required to be in the Candidacy process. Those of us who are immersed in it often roll our eyes or groan when someone unfamiliar with the process asks what it is. So here is the brief version (and I promise I neither groaned nor rolled my eyes; I am in a library after all):

Candidacy is the process through which synods (regional groupings of ELCA congregations) evaluate a candidate's readiness for ministry. There are three steps in the process: entrance, endorsement, and approval. At each step, there is a reflective essay and panel interview. At times, the interview will be with the entire candidacy committee of the synod (my committee is composed of about 15 members, if I recall correctly), which is made up of the bishop, synod staff, pastors, seminary professors, and lay members; or it may be with just a few members of the committee (but the final approval process involves evaluation from both the seminary faculty and the entire committee).

At each step, the committee has three options, one of which they will bestow upon the candidate: approval (different from final approval...confusing, I know), postponement or denial. Every candidate strives for approval. That means that your essay met their requirements, or if it fell a little short, your interview made up for it, and you are ready to continue in the process. Postponement can mean many things, but it often means the candidate has some things to work on before completing the next step; it does not always mean that the candidate is not qualified for ministry, but that they need a bit more time. From what I understand, denial is rare, but it can happen, and it can sideline a candidate for an indefinite period of time. I'm not clear on whether you can enter the process again after time and growth, or if you are finished with candidacy altogether, but I've found that most candidates avoid thinking about it at all.

My entrance went well. I had months to prepare, and I was ready for the interview, as it mostly assesses where you are at this first step of theological education and preparation for ministry. I was approved for entrance without difficulty, and I have been riding on the coattails of my entrance for the past few months. But now, it is time for endorsement, and I am scared out of my mind. Most candidates wait until the beginning of their second year, after their Clinical Pastoral Education, to seek endorsement. But because I am in a two year program, rather than four, I need to be endorsed before other parts of my academic program can move forward, so this is all happening very quickly.

Very quickly as in April 16th.

With the essay due April 1st.

By my (read: my Dashboard countdown clock's) calculations, I have a mere 6 days, 7 hours and approximately 53 minutes to finish this essay.

I took over seven months to write the last one.

And now, I have to show growth.

Writing the essay is the hardest part. They want me to think theologically about my vocation as it is as it is grounded in baptism, in contexts such as family, confirmation, friendships, work settings, school and community. In one page. I barely know what it is asking in the first place, much less how to address all of those topics in 23 double-spaced lines. And then there are eight more questions beyond that! When do I get to stop writing about myself?
As far as the interview, I'm intimidated. I'm afraid that my committee will ask questions to which I haven't learned the answers, or want to know why I still don't feel called to be a pastor. I cried in my last interview, and my number one goal for this interview is to not repeat those tears. But I am afraid it will happen.

I hope this doesn't sound as if I'm degrading the Candidacy process; I actually think it is necessary and well-developed to raise up qualified leaders in the Church who can clearly articulate theological groundings and a sense of call. But in the midst, it seems like I'm drowning in an ocean of essays, interviews and decisions that keep me up at night worrying. And all I wanted to do was help young people encounter Christ.

I'm not sure if there's a greater purpose for this blog entry. Maybe it was just to vent in the middle of the process, or maybe it was to encourage someone who feels he or she is the only one with anxiety about the process. But I do know one thing for absolute certain: I now have 6 days, 7 hours and 42 minutes to put the last seven months of learning and living down on paper, and I still feel as strongly about my call as I did eight years ago.* If my committee knows that, I think I'm doing just fine.

*Interestingly enough, I just realized that today is exactly eight years since I felt called to youth ministry, to the day. I wasn't sure exactly what it was at first, but I quickly identified it, and I remember it like it was yesterday. Funny how these things work out, eh?

In loving, loving memory

2010-03-17T16:58:00.002-04:00

It's funny; my grandfather's favorite holiday was St. Patrick's day. He was Irish to his core. I vividly remember his excitement when he and my grandmother traveled to Ireland (for what I doubt was his first visit) and he was able to kiss the Blarney Stone and survey the land of his ancestors. In 2008, he passed away on Friday, March 14th, and the process of laying him to rest began on Monday, March 17th.

The day he loved.

It was appropriate and touching and painful and beautiful.

Today makes two years since we began to say our last goodbyes and cried what were far from our last tears and continued to thank God for giving us so many years with one of the kindest and most loving men I've ever known.

One of the hymns we sang at his funeral was I Am the Bread of Life. Today, we sang that hymn in chapel. I joined in when I could, but mostly I just wept. It was a poignant and unexpected moment of remembrance for my dear Pop-Pop, and it was a fitting tribute: the hymn that always brings him to the front of my mind on the day that does the same.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.
[ecclesiastes 3:1-8]

I got 90 problems...

2010-03-11T10:50:00.000-05:00

Okay, I try to keep my corner of the interwebs free of what some would call "foul language," but this was TOO GOOD not to share. I'm there are great lessons to be learned about the importance of youth ministry here, but they're going to have to wait until I stop laughing.

What are they teaching in DC charter schools?!

Born to Fly

2010-03-02T15:28:00.002-05:00

Over the past nine months, I have boarded an airplane 16 times. If my memory serves me correctly (and actually, I’m not sure it does, but work with me here), this is one more than the number of airplanes I had boarded in my entire life, prior to June 2009. Given the increase, I’ve learned some things about myself and air travel in the process. I pondered these between Minneapolis/St. Paul and Baltimore last night, so I figured I’d share a little mindless fodder with all of you.

I am chronically early to the airport. I don’t love sitting there, but I am always nervous that I’ll have to empty all of my belongings at security and miss my flight, or they’ll change the gate and I won’t notice and miss my flight, or some other scenario that involves me not getting on the plane. I’d rather sit and suffer than not get on that plane.
On that note, I believe that every airport should have free wireless. If I have to sit at your gate for an hour and a half (at least), you can let me catch up on my Google Reader, twitter feed and facebook updates.
I’m passively pushy about getting on the plane. I’ll never actually push someone out of my way, but I will walk quickly and stand firmly to be one of the first in my boarding group to get on the plane. I hate having to check my bags at the side of the plane. That’s why I brought a carry-on, thank you. I will fight (in the nicest sense of the word) for overhead bin space.
My ears always pop and it is always terrible. More about this later.
After all of these flights, I haven’t figured out which seat I like best. I do know, however, that I don’t like the aisle seat. If it were a life or death situation, I’d probably pick the window seat.
One of the reasons I do like sitting next to the window is that no one ever has to climb over me.
I also never have to climb over anyone else. I try to use the airplane bathroom as little as possible. True story: on the flight from London to New Jersey (about seven and a half hours), I used the bathroom once. The seven and a half hours from New Jersey to London? Not a once. This is definitely because I can hold my bladder for an incredibly long time, but maybe I should save that for TMI Thursday.
My favorite in-flight beverage? Sprite with no ice. The only time I ever asked specifically for ice was on the flight from London to New Jersey, since I hadn’t had ice in almost two weeks. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why I had to use the bathroom on that flight.
In addition to wireless in airports, I think every airplane should have little touch-screens on the back of every seat so you can watch movies and listen to music, even if it’s a short flight. On those two international flights, I watched two full-length movies and four episodes of House. On each flight. Those were the greatest flights ever. Oh, and please include a live flight-map. That was totes awes.
When touch-screens are not available, I’ve found that I can only listen to two different artists on my iPod: Regina Spektor and Skillet (anti-folk and industrial rock? No big!). When I was flying to Florida, I tried to listen to the Glee soundtrack, which I seriously adore, but I could only get through two tracks. I was unsettled until I switched to Skillet. Strange, I know.
I will always always always end up sitting behind someone who reclines the seat almost all the way. I hate this, but that person paid for a ticket too, so I keep quiet.
I can always tell when we’ve started to descend. My ears become totally clogged, to the point where I can’t hear at all (not kidding, I can’t even hear myself cough); I get really hot really fast, but don’t sweat…it’s like an internal furnace; I start to squirm and move my legs A LOT because I get incredibly uncomfortable. If you are flying with me, do not try to have a conversation with me until we touch down, because [a] I can’t hear you and [b] I am seriously uncomfortable and just want to sit silently until it’s over. This is for the good of everyone on the plane.
Even though I don’t need to stand up during the flight, as soon as that little bell sounds, I jump up like my seat is spring-loaded. I don’t mind being the last one off the plane as long as I can stand while everyone else is deplaning.
In the past, it has taken as long as three days for my ears to return to their normal state.

There’s no point to this entry, but I’m trying to make blogging more of a habit for me, so you get this lovely little gem. Enjoy.

Simple as it should be

2010-02-26T00:03:00.003-05:00

22 was a good year. I'm thinking 23 will be better. Hope is a great thing.

Thanks, mom, for going on bed rest for two weeks (or something like that) so I could get born.* Thanks, dad, for being the first person to say my name.

Thanks, friends and family, for getting me to 2010 relatively unscathed. Here's to another few decades of life and love.

My relationship with coffee- Part III

2010-02-16T15:23:00.002-05:00

As you may recall, I have a deep, abiding love of coffee. I've written about it here. Twice. A brief recap: I love hot caffeine. The taste of black coffee has always repulsed me, but I can't go without that energy boost at the beginning of the day. Or the middle, or even near the end.

During the latter half of December and for most of January, I drank Starbucks like it was my job. I got a Starbucks gift card for Christmas, and after registering it on the starbucks.com, I found that every time I use that card, I get a star, and the more stars you get, the more rewards you get! Win win. So I started stopping at Starbucks at every chance, accumulating a couple of stars per week. Then I realized that lattes are expensive and use up my card faster, so I started going with flavored coffee. Toffee nut is my favorite, but there's also sugar-free caramel and hazelnut, which, when combined with coffee, fat free milk and a packet of Splenda equal a low-calorie, delicious coffee experience! Plus, now that I'm at the Green Level, I get free flavors in my coffee. Score.

Anyway, since coming back to school, I've been drinking the coffee brewed here instead of making it at home. I do have a coffee maker, but I've always just used these Folgers coffeebags (think teabags, but with coffee grounds). Well, this morning, I made coffee out of said bag, with the appropriate amount of creamer and sweetener (by the way, I've been using WAY less of these items...my coffee is more the shade of tree bark now, which may not sound appetizing, but it looks pretty)...and I almost spit it out. It was so watery, I literally chugged it just so I wouldn't waste it, but so that it would be gone.

This has me thinking...maybe I like the flavor of coffee now. Maybe all of that strong Starbucks has conditioned me to be a real live coffee lover. Now what to do with all of those coffeebags...

An Ode to Being Single on Valentine's Day

2010-02-14T16:09:00.000-05:00

So, today is Valentine's Day. Or, as Liz Lemon would say, "a sham created by card companies to reinforce and exploit gender stereotypes." Oh Liz, you're speaking my soul.

Okay, but in all seriousness, I've chosen to not be bitter this year. Yes, I am plagued by chronic singleness. In fact, I'm really surprised this hasn't come up in my blog more often. There's no reference to the frequency with which I wallow in singlehood in my blogger tags, which is reassuring. It was hard enough in college, with acquaintance after acquaintance getting engaged (somehow, most of my close friends evaded the Ring By Spring tradition) and the ratio of single men to single women decreasing by the semester. But now, in seminary, it's even worse. Everyone. is. married. Seriously. Okay, well that's only a little bit of an exaggeration. But in reality, in my whole incoming class, there is one single, heterosexual male under the age of 30. The prospects are not promising for the few of us girls who are still unattached.

But back to today...whether it's a conspiracy started by Hallmark or a twisted holiday celebrating persecution and martyrdom or a day to really celebrate unadulterated romantic love, it can make single people feel pretty under-appreciated. Fortunately, there's also been a resurgence of viewing the holiday as an opportunity to tell everyone in your life how much you love them. This can seem like a futile attempt at glossing over the lovey-dovey nature of the holiday, but hey, since when was it a bad thing to tell people that you care about them?

If I become bitter and cynical about love, that won't help me find it. In fact, it will probably hinder the process. So I'm choosing to love love. This Valentine's Day, I do want to tell all of the people in my life that I love them and care about them (I love you and care about you). But I also want to tell all of my friends and family members who have found that very special person that I'm happy for them. Very happy, in fact. I hope you've all had an extra-special day with your sweetie, even though I know you tell each other often how much you love one another. Don't let the haters get you down (I can't believe I just wrote that), because you deserve to be happy and in love and in a beautiful, healthy relationship. I pray for your continued love and happiness, and that those of us who remain unattached can find love like you have found.

My challenge to the rest of my single ladies (and gentlemen...I hope you're all putting your hands up): embrace love, even if the romantic sort hasn't found its way to you yet. At the very least, it'll remove the black cloud that tends to loom over the day for us, right? ;]

Olympic Fail

2010-02-13T00:22:00.002-05:00

Okay, I love the Olympics with every fiber of my being. I thrive on competition, and that's really the basis for the entire celebration. But I also adore the opening ceremonies, for their excitement and national pride and identity and AWESOMENESS in general.

So the Olympics are in Canada this year. If you know me well, you know that one of my favorite things in the whole world comes from Canada:

credit

I love Celine. I've loved her since I was in the fourth grade. I know almost all of her songs (some of the new ones haven't made it onto my iTunes yet), including two entire French albums. And I don't speak French. I used to be able to name all of her thirteen brothers and sisters in order, oldest to youngest. I did a project about her in fifth grade that was a timeline of her life, with each event on a music note, on a staff, that actually "spelled out" the first few bars of My Heart Will Go On. It was incredible.

So when I heard that the Olympics would be in Canada, I figured that the top selling female artist of all time, who hails from Canada, would be included in the opening ceremonies. In fact, I even Googled, and there was an article that stated she would be performing. So throughout the entire four and a half hours of the opening ceremonies, I waited with anticipation. Sarah McLaughlin sang, which was great. k.d. Lang sang, and even though I would have preferred Rufus Wainwright crooning Hallelujah, I was satisfied. I figured she would be the final performance, closing the show with a bang.

But I was wrong. There was no sight of Celine anywhere. I'm incredibly disappointed. I wanted her to come out and belt out a tear-jerker of a ballad, pounding her chest and bringing the audience to its feet. But I was denied. Of course, Celine may have had a prior engagement, or maybe she just wasn't feeling the Olympics this year. But I have a hard time believing that Celine would turn down performing at the Olympics. So that makes me wonder...is Canada shunning their sweetheart? What is going on here, Neighbor to the North? I want some answers.

[EDIT] According to various sources, Celine is in New York for IVF treatment (yay more babies!), and she will perform at the closing ceremonies. All is right with the world!

SNOMG

2010-02-10T22:51:00.000-05:00

I'm not going to try and describe how much snow we've had over the past few days. Most of you are familiar, and you probably don't want to think about it. I've developed cabin fever, even though I have plenty of on-campus friends and Skype at my disposal. All I want is for the snow and wind to stop so I can dig out my poor, poor Lola Bug from her place in the parking lot. I yearn to get off campus, even though I just spent four days in North Carolina. This is bad.

When I have to fill out call papers [which really won't matter so much because I have to find my own job], when it asks for regional restrictions, I am just going to write "ANYTHING BUT REGION 3." Region 3 is the mecca of the ELCA, even though we're headquartered in Chicago. Looking at a map of all the regions, 3 is on the smaller side. But that is because it is the most dense.

This is because it includes Minnesota and the Dakotas. After all of this snow? NO THANK YOU.

That's all for now. I may be back later with pictures, or tales from being cooped up. But for now, I'm going to listen to the wind howl while I work on a quiz due tomorrow, when we will have class online in lieu of braving the snow. I guess the silver lining of this blizzard is that I can sit on my bed and "go to class" in my pajamas. While watching Dr. Oz and all of that other delightful morning television I always have to miss. With a mug of hot chocolate and a warm bagel.

This blizzard is sounding better and better by the minute.

A Lent Without Spending?!

2010-02-02T08:09:00.000-05:00

This morning, as I was clicking through my Google Reader, I noticed that Ex-Hot Girl had done a links post. She linked to a blog called Fat Bridesmaid, and it sounded interesting, so obviously, I clicked and started to read. This girl is giving up spending for Lent. She has some rules, but it's pretty strict. I'm considering this. I'm constantly broke, but I keep spending a little at a time, forgetting that it all adds up. There are a few things I would have to fudge...like, I'm going to a conference at the end of the month, so I'll have to eat out, and let's not lie, I'll probably buy some books. But seriously? To stop spending for 46 days? This could be interesting. I'll give it some thought today while I'm in class.

On second thought, maybe I should give up thinking about other things while I'm in class...

Haiti

2010-01-14T15:51:00.001-05:00

So, unless you live under a rock, you have probably heard about the earthquake in Haiti. This is incredibly, incredibly devastating. Haiti is one of the poorest countries in the world, and nothing in that country was prepared to stand against a 7.0 magnitude earthquake. They are still experiencing aftershocks, and it is difficult to assess the full extent of the damages there at the moment.

I'm writing this as a plea: please pray or think or channel good thoughts, whatever you think works, for Haiti. I was talking with someone who went to Haiti on a mission trip a few years ago, and he said that their houses and buildings there are always a work in progress, they are always building additions onto the small structures they have. When the earthquake hit, it was like knocking over a house of cards because of the unstable nature of the structures. Everything there is devastated. Their capital city is flattened. Think about how America felt when Katrina ripped through the Gulf Coast, and then imagine an entire country that lives on $2 a day trying to recover from similar destruction. It's practically incomprehensible.

As Lutheran World Relief said today, "Due to the severity of the situation in Haiti, donations are the most important thing right now---Rescue then Rebuild." I'd ask you to consider donating money to an organization that will put 100% of your donation to good use in the relief effort. There are several well-known organizations that have already mobilized efforts in Haiti, but they could always use more money to send bottled water, water purification tablets, blankets, clothes, food and other various necessities. I've listed some organizations below that have great reputations and will definitely put the money to good use.

On that note, PLEASE be wary of requests for donations that seem at all like a scam. Go directly through an organization's website; some scams say that they will double your donation if you make it through their website, but in reality, they are pocketing your money, and it will not go to Haiti. Be aware of email scams, or requests for direct transfers of money. It is awful that some will use this tragedy to profit personally, but it does happen.

Thank you for your prayers and for your donations. I do not personally know anyone who was in Haiti at the time of the earthquake, but there was a group from Wartburg Seminary (another ELCA seminary) doing mission work there for J-Term. Yesterday, we were told that they were all safe, but today, we received notification that two members of the group got out of the building they were in when the earthquake hit, and they were able to find one another, but the third member of their party is missing. This student, Ben Larson, is a senior at Wartburg; ready to graduate and become an ordained pastor in the ELCA, as far as I know. The two people with him were Renee Larson, his wife, and Jonathan Larson, his cousin. Those of us at ELCA seminaries are mourning the loss of this student; the president of Wartburg, Duane Larson (no relation), said this about Ben:

Ben's baptismal light burned so brightly in our community and for all who came to know him. We grieve the loss of so clear a proclamation, with eyes twinkling, of Christ's love, compassion, and humor. source

It seems to be a reminder that natural disasters do not discriminate. And for as much as we mourn the loss of the relatively few foreign civilians and military who have been killed, we must remember how devastated the people of Haiti are at this time. Prayers are abounding for them, and we pray for increased resources to help those who survived.

Credible Organizations

Lutheran World Relief- This is the organization through which I personally donated. It is Baltimore-based, and I know that they are excellent stewards of their donations. If you click on the link provided, it will take you directly to the Haiti page of their site, where you can click "Click Here to Contribute NOW." On the donation page, you can donate any amount, but make sure you select "Haiti Earthquake" in the dropdown menu. You will receive a confirmation email after donating, which can be used for tax purposes. Just as a side note, LWR has committed an initial $1,000,000.00 to relief in Haiti.
The American Red Cross- Always reliable. If you click on the red "DONATE NOW" button on their home page, you can select the Haiti Earthquake as your chosen cause. You can also text the word "HAITI" to 90999 to automatically donate $10 (it will appear on your cell phone bill). THIS IS NOT A SCAM. The Red Cross has this information on their website, and they have received over $3 million in donations as of this morning with this method.
Planting Peace- This organization has been endorsed by Rainn Wilson, better known as Dwight on The Office. He has done work in Haiti, in schools and orphanages, and he knows this to be a reliable source. As an incentive, he is offering a personally signed 8x10 headshot to anyone who donates $100 or more. Check out his twitter account (@rainnwilson) for more details.
Artists for Peace and Justice- Another great charity that is supported by several celebrities: James Franco, Charlize Theron and Olivia Wilde, to name a few. Their "DONATE NOW" button is on the bottom right of the page.

If you have any other charities you recommend, please post them in a comment and I will try to add them to the list. Also, feel free to use any part of this post to get the word out to YOUR followers about the importance of helping Haiti.

Dear Verizon, fire your marketing team

2010-01-08T21:06:00.000-05:00

This past week, I've been in DC during the day for a class. This means that I woke up every day at 4:45, left the house by 5:40, arrived at the train station at 6:00, stood in the dark and cold until the train came at 6:10, slept the whole way to DC, took a bus from Union Station to Mount Vernon Square, went to Starbucks, had class from 9:00-4:00, took a bus from Mount Vernon Square to Union Station, ran to try and catch the 4:24 train (I made it on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but Tuesday and Thursday found me on the 5:20), read The Time-Traveler's Wife (go buy that and read it right now) until arriving back at the train station around 5:30, then driving home and walking in the door around 6:00. So I have been understandably exhausted. But I was alert enough to notice something while taking the Circulator back to Union Station. It was a billboard that looked just like this one:

credit

Now, because of the building where this ad is located, you can't really see the bottom right corner from the street, because it is angled. But every day, when we passed this billboard, I couldn't help but wonder, "Why is Verizon equating their phones with buckets of angry female deer?"

Albeit, I haven't been watching as much television (or when I do, it's usually taped, so I fast forward through commercials), so I haven't seen the Droid commercials. Had I been paying more attention, I would have seen that Verizon means that it is a bucket of third-person-singular-present-indicative "do." But let's take a second to think about this, Verizon. What do buckets contain? Matter. Actual physical matter. Buckets do not contain verbs, so I would venture to guess that most people are going to think of angry female deer when they see this ad. And then the ad doesn't make sense to them, and they have little desire to buy your product. And then Apple goes and makes straightforward ads, and, well...we know who emerges victorious. Just saying.

Anyway, this billboard really bothered me, and I know I have a few editors (or at least word-conscious folks) who read this blog, so I figured you would appreciate it. If you see this billboard, just picture a bucket of raging mothers of Bambi, and it will give you a good giggle.

*And just a side note, I really, inexplicably hate the word "bucket;" you know I'm dedicated to this post, because I think I used it five times, including in this side note. And you all think I don't love you.

A little message from my sister and me

2010-01-06T21:58:00.000-05:00

I am exhausted from this class/commuting, so I had to blow off a little steam. Aren't you lucky!

At least it still involves words...

2010-01-03T21:39:00.000-05:00

I'll admit, I have been doing very little writing lately. Especially here, on my poor neglected blog. But I have two posts in the works right now, both centered around the books I've read since Christmas: The Unlikely Disciple by Kevin Roose and The Shack by William P. Young. They are both incredible books that everyone should read. So, my few but faithful, hopefully I'll be back with two exciting posts in the next two days.

I'm taking a class in Washington, D.C. this week, so hopefully my time on the train will give me time to write. Love you all! Happy New Year!

My first guest blog!

2009-12-08T14:02:00.000-05:00

Just fyi, I guest blogged on Anne-Marie and Kate's fun Baltimore blog, another shoreline, in baltimore. I've discovered that I love guest blogging, and when combined with my love for Baltimore, it makes for the perfect blogging experience.

If any of my Baltimore lovelies have a part of Charm City they'd like to share with another shoreline's readers, let me know and I'll put you in touch with Anne-Marie!

A Lesson In Road Etiquette

2009-11-29T18:17:00.000-05:00

In case you weren't aware, my friend Sarah is the next Emily Post. She rightly believes in "home training," and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she wrote this generation's Etiquette, with special additions regarding cyber-etiquette and proper use of technology (especially when NOT to use social networking devices). I would buy several copies, and then distribute them to everyone I know. Manners are important, people. That being said, I am writing this post in honor of Sarah (but not directed at her, mind you).

I realize that, when we go out onto the road in our vehicles of choice, we are taking our lives into our hands. I often feel stressed while driving. I've been known to drive above the speed limit, but I try not to make risky moves, because I know that stresses out those with whom I am sharing the road. Because I understand how nerve-wracking driving can be, I try to be as polite as possible. If someone lets me merge in front of him I wave for a few seconds, acknowledging his kindness in allowing me to get where I need to go. If a driver pulls to the shoulder on a narrow road so I can pass, I give the four-finger wave from the top of my steering wheel, so she knows I didn't just feel entitled to the road. My mother taught me to wave a thank-you to my fellow drivers way back when I was learning to drive, and it is a habit that has often elicited a wave or smile from those to whom it has been offered.

Did other mothers not teach this gesture in Driving 101? Because some drivers are kind to me, I like to be kind to other drivers. If there is a particularly long line waiting to merge, I might let two or three cars go instead of the generally-accepted one. If someone wants to turn left, and there are several cars behind me, I may slow down so that person can quickly and safely make a turn. If possible, I move to the right when I feel someone is trying to pass me, and if someone arrives at two-or-more-way stop shortly after I do, I will invite them to go first if it would better suit the flow of traffic. And how often do I get a wave? Maybe once out of every ten times. For shame.

Is it really that difficult to lift your hand and wiggle your fingers in acknowledgment of kindness from a stranger? I realize that it is not always obvious that someone is being a kind driver, but if you suddenly have a place to merge on a busy highway, another driver probably made that space for you. I don't think it's too much to ask that we thank one another for kind deeds, especially if it only requires minimal movement. Now, if you cannot possibly remove your hands from the wheel, please do not take my advice; we wouldn't want to cause an accident. But a little thank-you goes a long way, and could maybe work towards eliminating some of the stress we all feel while driving.

Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately), I feel like you, my loyal followers, are already skilled at acknowledging acts of kindness on the road, so you probably don't need to take my advice. But pass it on to those in your lives who could use a little road etiquette. Let's make our commutes less stressful, one wave at a time.

Seminary Oddity #328

2009-11-11T17:01:00.000-05:00

Oh followers, I have been so remiss. I apologize for my lack of presence in your lives. I'm sure you were waiting with baited breath for my next post. Well here it is!

First off, everyone smile and wave at Anne-Marie, the newest addition to my blogroll. Anne-Marie and I met during my Welcome Week (aka Extended Summer Camp For Young Adults) at college. I was a bubbly and eager freshman; she, a bubbly and truly caring sophomore RA on the floor below mine. I instantly bonded with one of my RAs, who happened to spend a lot of time with Anne-Marie. She was always interested in what was going on in the lives of the people she encountered, even if we weren't her residents. I remember when I got turned down for an RA position, and how Anne-Marie genuinely comforted me and reminded me of God's plan that I couldn't necessarily see at the moment. So now that I've met my sappiness quotient for the day...Anne-Marie and her husband moved to my beloved hometown a little over a year ago, and now she and a college girlfriend are blogging about it! So if you're interested in what's going on in Charm City, check out Another Shoreline, In Baltimore.

I've been trying to think of something creative and, well, sassy to share with you all. Well, as it turns out, my life is BORING right now. I've been sucked into the vortex known as grad school, and although I have some pretty hilarious theological conversations, you all would be bored to tears with them. But let's test drive a little seminarian humor, shall we?

Tonight is one of my seminary's most favorite (grammar police are hunting me down as we speak) nights out of the whole year: Fish Night. Legend has it that one of our professors, back in the early 2000's, had a pin shaped like a fish that she wore often. Now, if you are familiar with Lutheran culture, especially Norwegian Lutheran culture, you would not be surprised that a Lutheran pastor-turned-professor loved this fish pin. Fish is a huge part of Norwegian Lutheran culture. In fact, you may often hear jokes about Lutherans and lutefisk. I'll spare you the gory details of this "delicacy," but essentially, it's cod soaked in lye. And people eat it. I'll pause while you think about that and retch a little bit.

Anywho, the point is that she loved this pin, and then one day, it broke. So the students decided that she should have a memorial for this fish pin, where they would all come to her house (a mere three blocks down from the seminary), bring a fish dish, and remember the fish pin. Let's remember, we live on a battlefield and everything closes at 9:30, so our social lives are a little stunted.

So the tradition of Fish Night began. On a glorious November evening, seminarians trek down the road and arrive at this century-old house, bearing dishes that either contain fish (salmon is particularly popular nowadays) or have a fish theme (like the candy sushi I'm bringing tonight). Tonight, for several hours, we will ignore our homework and some of us will forget that we had mediocre CPE interviews today (more on this another day), and we will delight in Fish Night. There will be plenty of eating, irreverent hymn singing, and just good old fashioned Lutheran fun happening tonight. Our professor and her husband (who also works at the seminary) will provide all of the libations, which will probably result in off-key irreverent hymns (although we are excellent singers and harmonizers, I must say) and maybe a little too much Lutheran fun. But the point is, as I said, fun. A chance to celebrate our wacky and eclectic community and just enjoy the company of one another for a few hours, instead of obsessing over Big Scary Grad School.

I'm sure I'll take an obscene number of pictures tonight, so maybe tomorrow will bring a photo montage of Fish Night. Especially since my one Thursday class was cancelled!! Oh, it is definitely party time, my friends.

Busy Bees

2009-10-28T19:15:00.001-04:00

As LNDQ not-so-subtly pointed out in her most recent post, I have been remiss in updating all of you in my life. It's probably because I have recently turned into the busiest person in the history of the world. If the history of the world only consists of the past three weeks at the seminary. Which brings me to the topic of this post: busyness.

I hate being busy...most of the time. Part of me likes it because it means I'm moving and shaking and Doing Big Things, as Sarah likes to say. I usually feel really productive after an especially busy day. But seriously? I just want to have three consecutive hours between 8:00am and 10:00pm where I don't have to be somewhere or turn something into a digital drop box (God, I hate BlackBoard) or really do anything. Just one day out of the week.

Let's take a peek into a typical Tuesday for me, which is my busiest day by far.

6:30am- Wake up, shower, get ready/dressed
8:00am- Leave apartment, get coffee
8:30am- Old Testament class
10:00am- Work on homework (or socialize with other people who are supposed to be doing homework)
11:55am- Chapel
12:20pm- Lunch
12:50pm- Choir
1:30pm- Greek class
3:00pm- More homework, or sometimes a power nap if it's been a particularly rough day
4:15pm- Leave for DC, ride in a van for two hours and get absolutely no homework done
6:15pm- Arrive in DC for class (except sometimes, we don't arrive until 6:45/7:00...I also hate 495)
6:30pm- Youth Ministry class
9:30pm- Load back into said van and get nothing done, once again
11:15pm- Arrive back on campus

And from there, I either end up hanging out with two of my friends for a little while, because I've just had the longest day ever, or I go back to my room and crash. Seriously?! I hate this schedule. My other days are equally as crazy, I just don't have to trek down to DC. I don't have any time to just chat on the phone with my friends or get big chunks of homework done or anything like that.

So to sum up this entry: I. hate. being. busy. If you can avoid being busy, do it at all costs. It will make you go insane. And not update your blog for weeks. And apologize to your (few) followers, because you've been a very negligent blog owner.

I promise you something more exciting next time around.

Cue the sappy coming-of-age vignette

2009-10-11T15:40:00.001-04:00

Last night, I went to visit Pink and JD (my friends who are getting married) and we had a fabulous night, just cooking, baking, eating, and watching the Penguins totally dominate the Maple Leafs (Leaves?). It was a great night, and actually, I kind of forgot that I wasn't still in undergrad just down the road; I mean, I probably spent about half of my evenings doing some variation of that all last year. So like I said, awesome night. It was just what I needed. What I didn't need? The emotional breakdown I had once I got to the parking lot (don't freak out, mom, just keep reading).

I got in the car and immediately pictured myself driving back to my college. I had to shake that thought out of my head and remind myself to go 35 miles beyond that down the road. That's when the waterworks started. Now, if you know me at all, you know that it does not take much to make me cry. I cry during almost every movie, when I'm sad/happy/angry/frustrated/excited/any emotion, and at plenty of other things. It's really just how I express myself, and it usually relieves some stress. But last night, I just let loose and basically cried steadily for the ten minutes it took to get from the parking lot to the exit that I used to take to get back to school. I felt this inexplicable pull to take the exit and just drive through my college campus.

So I did just that. I started around the road that encircles the campus and just drove slowly, remembering what it was like to be there. I drove past the academic building where I spent the better part of my class time (and the majority of last semester in general), the library where I used to do research for my senior seminar paper until they kicked me out at midnight, and the campus center where I checked my mail every day, worked in the snack shop, ate in the dining hall, worked out on the elliptical, and went to a bunch of concerts and dances. I kept going around and ended up driving along the Yellow Breeches, a creek that runs through campus. I drove over the covered bridge that I drove over every day last year and pulled into a space in that commuter parking lot I hated so much. I was just going to go sit by the edge of the Breeches, but then I realized that the grass was soaking wet, so I nixed that plan.

Instead, I decided to disregard my earlier post regarding "being smart" (as well as the fact that a girl was recently attacked on the campus...okay, so I'm giving away my location), and I walked along a path alongside the Breeches, towards the swinging bridge. As I walked, I figured out why I felt so pulled back to that campus that night: I wanted to be in a place that knew me. I love where I am now, don't get me wrong. But I can't attach my new home with my spiritual, emotional and intellectual development. That campus, however, is where I became who I am today and met some of the most incredible and influential people I've ever known. And as I continued to walk, I realized that I had never really grieved the loss of this place in my life.

I don't want to trivialize the grieving process; I've experienced the death of loved ones, and this is not the same situation. But in a way, it is similar: I had a deep connection with the people and the place, I lived and breathed it for four years, and all of a sudden, I wasn't a member of that community anymore. At least, not in the same way. I spent my senior year getting ready for grad school and living off-campus, so I had already mentally disconnected myself from much of the community. This really helped me move forward, but I think it led to the setback I experienced last night. I had this sudden realization that I had basically wished away the end of this experience while striving for the next one. And this past summer, I didn't have a spare second to just sit with that loss. A month and a half of moving home, tying up loose ends, planning and packing; sixteen days backpacking in Europe; five days of unpacking and re-packing; a week in New Orleans; five days of unpacking and re-packing; a week at the lake; five days of unpacking and MAJOR re-packing; moving to a new place. Last night was the first time I really thought, "I miss this, and I miss it a lot."

I kept walking (being mindful of the time, because there is a midnight curfew and I didn't want to start my life as an alum by being arrested) and eventually got to the bridge. I walked across, and stood in the place where I stood just over a year ago, in the midst of a fun photoshoot with my housemates. At that time, we felt like we were right in the middle of our lives; we were about to graduate from college and get jobs (or, in my case, pay for some more education) and start this whole second half of our lives. And as much as that's true, I feel even more in the middle right now.

While I am kind of straddling that gap between college and real life (grad school screws with your head, guys), I'm also stuck between living in the present (as well as for the future) and embracing my past. I'm trying to figure out what it means to appreciate and really love where I've been without trying to get back there. Without needing to get off that exit every time I drive past.

After that slight revelation, I felt way more at peace, and I walked back to the parking lot, where I literally started the car at 12:01 (but there were no PSafe around, so I was good), and finished driving around the circle. I drove back to Civil War Land with much less stress and a new perspective. I'm still working on how to balance those two extremes, but at least I'm not an emotional wreck like last night. Stay tuned for further developments, my dear readers.

My relationship with coffee- Part II

2009-10-06T09:40:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I decided that I would go one day a week without coffee, to try and lessen my dependence.

By 2:00, I was legitimately falling asleep in my class, and I had felt groggy and totally off all day.

Needless to say, that plan = OUT THE WINDOW.

I love coffee.

Let me get out my liberal theological soapbox

2009-10-05T09:12:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, I was headed over to York for my teaching parish (field education, whatever you want to call it) on US-30, also known as the Lincoln Highway. As I got to the outskirts of Gettysburg (doesn't that sound sketchy?), I happened upon a Rescue Mission. This Christian organization helps out the poor, homeless and needy, giving them a place to stay and food to eat, among other things. Awesome, right? I'm a pretty big fan of all of those things. What I'm not a big fan of? Terrible church signs, like this place was sporting.

In order to give you a better idea of the church sign, I've created a rendering of it on the church sign maker (ps, that can provide a lot of entertainment on a rainy afternoon...)

Of course, this did not come from Zion Pentecostal Tabernacle Church, but you get the idea. GOOD WITHOUT GOD IS O. I have some strong opinions about that sign, to be honest with you.

First of all, I don't understand what "O" is. I mean, I know it's a letter, but I can't quite figure out the implications of such a letter when related to "good" and "God." I mean, maybe they're saying that good without God is a big donut? I can't be sure, but I can only assume that they are playing on the visual similarities to the number "0." In which case, I have some even bigger concerns.

What this sign says to me, and I'm sure to the others who drive past it, is that, unless you have God, any good you do is worthless. Maybe it's just my steadily-increasing liberal mindset (more about this another day), but I'm pretty sure people who don't believe in God do good every day. If you're talking on a large scale, Brad Pitt has participated in some huge humanitarian efforts, and he says outright that he doesn't believe in God. On a smaller scale, I have plenty of friends who volunteer in soup kitchens or donate money and time to other charities aiding those in need who don't do it in the name of God.

Do I think that all Christians should be doing things for the poor and homeless like the Rescue Mission? Absolutely. But do I think that all those who do good things need to do them in the name of God? Absolutely not. If we start taking all of the things done solely out of the compassion someone has for others, not having anything to do with God, our world would be in a sad state of affairs (well, more than it already is). If anything, I think Christians need to be doing more than we are, and working with those who have great models for service, almost regardless of motivation.

It concerns me that this organization would immediately alienate so many people. There are homeless and hungry people who don't believe in God; would they feel welcome in this place? There are people who probably have time and money they would like to give to such a worthy cause, but why would they help an organization that assumes their good works are worthless? I'm also concerned about putting a label on things done in the name of God as being inherently good. Look at how many wars were started in the name of God, how many people were killed and had their land stolen from them because Christians thought they had a right to the land. If we start making blanket statements about what is good and what is not good, Christians are going to have a lot to answer for in the end.

One thing I'm learning about myself is that I have an extremely negative reaction to generalizations. I really dislike when things are lumped into one category because of a seemingly common thread among them. This one sign spawned a lot of thinking for me yesterday, because I was so offended by the generalization that all things good are done because of God; not because people of all beliefs care about other people or want to improve the world we live in. So my message to you all is this: if you are doing good things, keep doing them. If you attribute them to God, awesome. But if you don't...keep doing good things. Some Christians sure could use an example like you.

My relationship with coffee

2009-10-02T14:21:00.002-04:00

One of the things you'll probably read here is me ~~whining~~ ~~complaining~~ talking about is my lack of a steady income. I know, I'm in school right now, that is my job (thanks mom). But nobody is paying me to sit in a classroom and write papers and the like. I consider this to be a tragedy, but the federal government does not seem to agree.

I've been looking for ways to support my shopping habits (there is a Gap Outlet four miles from here. FOUR MILES, people!) and oh yeah, those loans I'm going to have to be accountable for come November 2011. I got a once-a-week babysitting gig with possibly the most pleasant baby I have ever encountered, so really, I would do it for free, but once again: GAP OUTLET. Luckily, a few weeks ago, the Admissions office asked me to essentially be the Seminary Weekend work study for the next few weeks. Between now and said weekend, I am working about 15 hours total putting together folders, stuffing welcome bags (um, they are awesome...each participant gets a sweet backpack with Utz chips, Snyder's of Hanover pretzels, a Hershey bar, York peppermint patties and Mott's apple juice...jealous), printing nametags, loading up Admissions USB drives, and pretty much anything else Admissions wants. Then, during that weekend, I belong to Admissions. But they're paying me pretty well, so I'm not complaining. Plus, I get to set my own hours, it's really low stress, and I love the people I work with. Excellent deal.

Anyway, while I am putting applications and brochures into folders and salivating over the contents of the bookbags, I have a lot of time to think. Hopefully, this will result in engaging and well-developed blogs. Or maybe just a lot of random subjects that I don't have time to think about otherwise. You are getting one of those delightfully random posts today.

Today, I dedicate my post to coffee. Here at the seminary, we semi-jokingly refer to it as the Third Sacrament (the other two being bread and wine...come to think of it, if you combine all three, that might be a nice hangover remedy). We drink coffee all. the. time. The seminary is a pretty small place, so there aren't any food shops on campus or anything like that, but you had better believe we have our own honor-system coffee shop. Every morning, the coffee shop coordinator makes a few pots of coffee (and we've gone totally fair trade!) and students come down, get a cup of coffee and hang out a little before class. The running price of such good coffee and fellowship? A mere $.50! And for a travel mug? Only $.75! A total bargain, especially when you consider that it's all fairly traded. Take that, Starbucks (just kidding, I still love you).

So here comes the confession: I kind of hate coffee. But I kind of love flavored creamer and sweetener. And my God, when you add those to that black death, it is the greatest thing ever. People make fun of me because my coffee usually ends up looking like this:

credit

Or maybe a little lighter. Sometimes, it kind of looks like I'm just drinking creamer. But I'm not, I promise. Also, can you show me someone who regularly drinks their coffee on a white tablecloth with a full sugar bowl framed by freshly cut flowers? How unrealistic.

Anyway, so yes, I love to drink some coffee with my cream and sugar. Because as repulsive as coffee is by itself, as soon as you add some CoffeeMate Hazelnut creamer and two packets of Equal (or Sweet-n-Low, if I'm in a pink mood), oh my God. It is the greatest drink ever created.

I think part (read: most) of my coffee obsession lies in the fact that it is heavily caffeinated. Hi, my name is Julie, and I am addicted to caffeine. The little caffeine monkey on my back commands me to consume this so-good-it-should-be-illegal drug prior to 9:00 a.m., or else it takes control of my ability to function, and I am in a zombie-like trance until lunch. A few times I've drank soda in the morning, trying to mix it up and eliminate the calories that come with creamer. But it just doesn't feel right to be drinking a cold, carbonated drink before lunch. Because coffee is hot, it is the perfect remedy for chilly mornings. And in the summer, you can pour it over ice (side note: right now, please make some coffee, let it cool off, pour it into ice cube trays, freeze, and then use it to make iced coffee. AMAZING.) and have your own little trendy drink. Perf.

All this to say: I freaking love coffee. I drink it every day. Sometimes, I drink a cup while I'm getting ready and then fill my travel mug before class. And on a really long day, I'll refill that mug after class. With plenty of creamer. Fat-free Hazelnut is my default, because it is so delicious (one day, I will make a list of all the delicious hazelnut-flavored items in my life), but I do like to mix it up. Irish Creme is a close second, with Amaretto coming in next. Which reminds me, I also love coffee after dinner, especially when it comes with some Frangelico, Bailey's or Disarrono. Maybe that explains my favorite creamers.

Wow, this was a really long post just to exhort my passion for hot caffeine. I'll try to make my life more interesting for my (now two!) readers. Speaking of which: hi M! Welcome to my blog. I hope you like coffee :]

Bridesmaid Babblings

2009-09-28T03:10:00.000-04:00

It's 2:24 a.m. I need to be awake in 4 hours and 36 minutes. Obviously, it is the perfect time to blog.

In recent and exciting news, one of my nearest and dearest friends from college got engaged. I mean, yes, we all knew it was coming, and I even knew her fiancee (also a good friend) had the ring seven months ago, but still, when it actually happens, it's incredibly exhilarating. I imagine it must be even more exciting for her, but I'm not one to offer discourse on how it must feel to know you're getting married in the very near and real future (more about this later, which you can take as either a promise or a threat).

Now, I have been to a decent amount of weddings, especially considering the fact that I am only 22. I have plenty of friends who have already been in more weddings than I have attended, but I consider them the anomalies. In any case, I will let you in on a little secret that actually isn't anywhere near a secret:

I. love. weddings.

A few weeks ago, at a cocktail party, my fellow seminarians and I went around the circle and said what we would be doing if we weren't in seminary. I appreciated that we didn't say what we would be doing if we weren't going to be pastors, because, shock of all shocks, there are some of us in seminary who are not going to be ordained pastors. But I digress. As we went around, a few people said that they would be teaching or writing, and there were some other more diverse career paths that I cannot remember because, let's face it, it was a cocktail party. When it was my turn, I revealed that, even though I wanted to be a teacher for a really long time, I would most likely be planning weddings for a living. Let me reiterate: I. love. weddings.

If I could go to a wedding every weekend, I would be deliriously happy. I giggle with glee when friends start posting facebook albums full of pictures from the weddings they've attended. I don't care if I knew the bride or the groom, where the wedding took place, what the color scheme was...I could look at wedding pictures all day long. I'm intentionally not following wedding photography blogs on blogger because I do need to pass my classes. I love anything that has to do with weddings. It's really more of an obsession than an interest.

That being said, I practically passed out with joy when said newly-engaged best friend (ALP, as she will be known henceforth) asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. I've never been in a wedding before, and I couldn't be more honored to be asked to be in this one. It's even more exciting because, as I mentioned, her soon-to-be husband (JD, for space's sake) is also a good friend of mine, so there won't be any of the awkwardness of "who is this guy you're marrying?" going on. Added bonus: her maid of honor is her younger sister (RP), who I've met a few times and is completely fantastic, and the other bridesmaid (LFT) is my other best friend from college! LFT and I always have more fun than I believe is legally allowed at dances and weddings, so ALP & JD's wedding is going to be absolute insanity. Oh my word, I am excited.

As of now, the wedding is potentially in July of 2010...meaning I have about ten months to get Bridesmaid Hot. I'm going to be honest here: ALP, RP and LFT are flat-out hot. We don't mince words here at the seminary, in case you haven't noticed. I would like to be hot as well. So, that means a few things:

Raid my fridge and eliminate anything that is disgustingly unhealthy. This should be easy, since my fridge is kind of empty now.
Only get lunch in the refectory (read: mini-cafeteria) on days that have healthier food. Sadly, this means I will not get to experience the wing bar or creamy pasta sauces, but I will indulge in huge plates of salad with generous portions of cucumbers, carrots and broccoli, a sprinkling of sunflower seeds, and some fat-free dressing.
Eliminate soda from my vocabulary. This is very difficult, especially when it tastes so good mixed with a little bit of rum. Which brings me to my next point...
Cut down on alcohol consumption. Honestly, I don't drink that much (and I'm not just saying that, it's actually true). It's like my incredibly-strict-on-alcohol undergrad institution is still looking over my shoulder with every sip, so it's a little like a guilt trip every time! But sometimes, when we're sitting around a campfire and having a grand old time, we lose track and have one too many watermelon Smirnoffs, and then all you have is a stomachache and empty calories coursing through your body. Unnecessary.
Use that YWCA pass! The seminary pays for most of our yearly memberships, so students only have to pay $25 for a whole year at the Y. This is an incredible deal, which I did take advantage of. I've gone to a few Zumba classes (Latin dance workout...incredible) and I've used the elliptical a few times, but I have not been diligent. Tragically, an increase in workout time means getting up at 5:00 so I can be at the gym by 5:15 (it's a blissful two-minute walk from my apartment), back by 6:00 and ready for my 8:30 class. This will require quite a bit of motivation, but it's probably the most necessary part of this plan.
Get more sleep. I'm currently running on an average of 5 hours a night. That is definitely not enough. In addition to making me unhealthier overall, when I'm tired, I don't feel like cooking. When I don't feel like cooking, I end up eating something quick, easy and really unhealthy, or something that a friend cooks, which is delicious and home-made, but also really unhealthy.

So, on that note, I should probably get to sleep, since I now have 3 hours and 53 minutes until my alarm is going off. And it's not like I can hit snooze and roll back over for a few more hours. I have to read a lot of material and then write a paper on it, so coherence will be a necessity. Thankfully, God made coffee for this exact purpose.

Although, come to think of it, I should probably cut caffeine from my diet as well. What have I gotten myself into?

The Guilt-Ridden Samaritan

2009-09-27T14:34:00.000-04:00

There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man. A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man's condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, "Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I'll pay you on my way back." -Luke 10:30-35, The Message

Almost everyone knows the story of the Good Samaritan. Even if you've never been to Christian church in your life, you could probably give a pretty good rendering of the story. A guy gets messed up by some bad guys, and they leave him to die on the side of the road. A priest and a Levite walk past him (doesn't this sound like the beginning of a bad joke?), and you'd think that they would stop to help him, but all they're worried about is becoming unclean after having contact with this half-dead man. Then, a Samaritan comes by. Now, Samaritans were basically the most ritually unclean people you could find back in the day. Jews didn't want to have anything with them because they were part Gentile. The Gentiles wouldn't touch them because they were part Jewish. So the Samaritans really understood what it meant to be passed over. It's nice to think that that's why the Samaritan stopped; he had seen these two religious leaders totally ignore the guy, and he knew what it felt like to be ignored for pretty surface reason. But I'm not a biblical scholar, so I can't make any bold claims about why the Samaritan stopped; we just know that he did. He helped this poor guy out and followed up with him, paying for any additional cost, not just pawning him off on the next willing participant in this story. The story of the Good Samaritan is lifted up as the paradigm of Christian brotherly/sisterly love: that we would help someone because they need help, putting our own concerns (like cleanliness or cash flow) second to their immediate and long-term needs.

Today, I had to go to the library to copy some pages out of a book for a paper I need to write. As I was walking back to my apartment in the rain, I saw a man standing in front of my building with two large bags, the straps crossed in an X across his chest. I didn't recognize him, and even six weeks in, I can at least remember seeing almost everyone at the seminary. So I was a little wary. As I got closer, he called out to me and asked if I was a student here. I said yes, and he proceeded to tell me his dilemma.

He needs to get to Chambersburg (a town about 30 minutes away) because his brother is picking him up there tonight. He stayed in Gettysburg last night, but it was too expensive to stay a second night, so he's going to just hang out in Chambersburg until his brother arrives. But as he was driving out of Gettysburg, his car broke down and he can't afford to get it fixed. He wants someone to drive him to Chambersburg, and he'll give that person $10 for gas. He asked the "pastor" if he could help (my friend was supply preaching in a congregation this morning, and thus was wearing his clerics while he took another student's dog for a quick walk), but the pastor said he was too busy. He just wants to know if anyone can give him a ride so he doesn't have to stand out in the rain. One of the large bags is a $2,000.00 breathing machine that the VA bought for him, but if it gets ruined, they're not just going to buy him a new one. Can someone please give him a ride?

I agreed to go inside and ask if anyone would be able to give him a ride. This is where the guilt set in. In reality, all I have to do today is work on some homework, watch the Ravens beat the Browns and go to a church thing later this evening. Do I have an hour to drive someone to Chambersburg and back? Absolutely. But let's break down this situation and what was going through my head:

I have never seen this guy before, his broken down car is nowhere in sight (he said some old man let him push it into his yard), he's got two sketchy looking bags with unknown contents, and if I'm being honest, he just looked pretty shady in general. So am I going to invite him into my car and take him to a small town 25 miles away on a rainy Sunday? Not likely. But will I go inside and alert someone else to the situation? Sure.

I went upstairs and heard a male voice, so I figured that was a good place to start. Three seniors (two girls, one guy) were just sitting down to watch a football game, and I gave them the rundown. The guy, D, affirmed the creepiness of the situation, and the girls agreed. However, D agreed to go back down with me and talk to the guy. D was very upfront with him, and told him that the situation sounded shady, especially because the guy told us that neither he nor his brother had cell phones or any way to get in touch with one another. After some more back-and-forth, D agreed to take the guy to Chambersburg, rejecting the gas money the guy offered.

I went inside to tell the girls that D was taking this guy to his destination, and they were just as concerned as I was. We agreed that it was better that D was taking him than if a girl were, because there are just too many red flags for that to be a good idea. I expressed my guilt over the situation to the girls (M & K), saying that I just kept running the Good Samaritan story through my head. That I wanted to be a good and faithful Christian who would sacrifice her own concerns for the needs of the other, but I couldn't shake the creeped out feeling, even if the guy's situation was legitimate.

Then K said something that stuck with me. She said (and I'm paraphrasing here), "I think we forget that, in the Good Samaritan story, the guy on the side of the road was half dead. He wasn't a threat to anyone at that point...except for the priest and religious leader who didn't want to become ritually unclean." Great point, K.

So here's my theological-but-practical point for the day: be smart. Yeah, as Christians (or just as human beings, really), we should try and help those who need it. But if you think that a situation could be unsafe, don't abandon all common sense for the sake of living up to the Good Samaritan. Because how can I be faithful to the Gospel if I blindly put myself in danger without considering the circumstances? God wants us to help people, but God also wants us to stay alive, and finding that balance is necessary. If D hadn't offered to take the guy where he needed to go, I probably would have grabbed a friend and asked him or her to come with me, to be safe. Could we still have gotten into a shady situation? Sure, but because we were smart, it would be a whole lot less likely. So I beg of you, make good choices that aren't just for the benefit of someone else but also ensure your safety...God gave us the gift of common sense for a reason!

NB: I just got a facebook message saying D is safe and on his way back. He gets the Modern Day Good Samaritan award today.

Humble Beginnings

2009-09-21T14:48:00.000-04:00

Whenever I'm reading a great blog, I think, "I wish I had an awesome blog that people from across the world would stumble upon and gain profound insights just by reading my musings." Then I go through a cycle of motivation (where I try to think of a creative blog name and ultimately fail), self-deprecation ("I'm just not witty enough to have a successful blog!"), false promises to my now-defunct LiveJournal ("I already have a blog, I just need to start writing in it again! I'll post an entry tomorrow!") and denial ("I don't really want a blog, it's just a fad that takes up too much time..."), and then without fail, I read another awesome blog, and the cycle repeats. Such is life.

So now, I am breaking that cycle. While I don't presume that my blog will ever be widely read or turned into a bestselling book/feel-good movie (hey, my name is Julie and I like to cook, but I'm not getting paid hundreds of thousands of dollars just to be me), maybe it will give me an outlet for all of those moments when I say, "I wish I had somewhere to chronicle this seemingly meaningless event in my life." Or, to vent my frustrations and document the vast array of indiscriminate thoughts floating around in my mind. We'll see.

That being said, a little background may be helpful. I am a 22-year old graduate of a private Christian college in Pennsylvania, where I studied youth ministry, music, and how to procrastinate on every assignment thrown my way (except for my Big Final Research Paper, which I completed more than 24 hours before the deadline, thankyouverymuch). I had planned to go right into youth ministry after college, but some things happened here and I decided to get another degree first. Now I'm at a Lutheran seminary in Pennsylvania (there are only two, so I'm opening the door pretty wide for stalkers) studying youth ministry (oops just narrowed it down to one) and loving almost every minute of it.

I'm originally from Baltimore, which is where I spend my time when I'm not living and learning on a battlefield. I have a mom and a dad who are pretty incredible, and an awesome little sister who is growing up way too quickly for my liking. We have a red short hair miniature dachshund named Gracie, who is the best dog ever (this is not up for debate). If I were in a sentimental mood, I would say something like "My family has made me who I am, and I am eternally grateful for everything they've done for me." Note: I am always in a sentimental mood.

Now, as for the name. Like I said, my number one deterrent in starting a blog has always been the name. I mean, what if this takes off and garners global attention? I don't want to have a blog with a second-rate name! By the way, if that happens, I'll probably hire a marketing team (Lindsay, you're chief of staff) and an internet expert to come up with a new name and transfer all of my posts to a new blog under it, erasing all history of this one. But we'll cross that bridge when/if we come to it.

Anyway, back to the name. I'm in seminary, so obviously that makes me a seminarian. However, I am deeply troubled by the image that most of the world has of seminarians. You think we're all serious, studious people who do nothing but read the Bible and theology books all day, or sit around in clerical collars talking about how pious we are compared to the heathens of the world. There are some like that among us, but I want to dispel that rumor!

The seminarians I have met (myself included) are people. Yes, you read it here first, seminarians are people too. We make poor choices and don't always say the right thing, and sometimes we even skip chapel. But we have a lot of fun and we do our best to love people the way Jesus loved people, and we're just following this (sometimes crazy) call that God has blessed us with.

All that to say: I like to think of myself as pretty sassy. Merriam-Webster says that sassy means impudent, which means "marked by contemptuous or cocky boldness or disregard of others." I renounce that definition, for your information. Instead, I prefer to use M-W's other characterizations of someone who is sassy: vigorous, lively, and distinctively smart and stylish. The latter two can be debatable at times, but I am nothing if not vigorous and lively. I promise to you, my loyal reader(s?), that I will strive to make this blog as sassy as possible. You won't find a lot of heady discourse on deep theological topics; you will find me wrestling with issues that come up in my seminary education. If I start to get boring, send me a virus that will incapacitate blogspot until I've become more exciting (just kidding, seriously, don't send me a virus); nobody wants a bland blog!

Alright, well, I am off to plow through some busy work. That's right, folks, you heard me correctly: I am in grad school, and I have busy work. This may be a topic for another blog post in the future, so I won't steal my own thunder, but suffice it to say that if busy work took a long walk off a short pier, I would be none too disappointed.