Breakfast and Humanity

Sometimes, that organism we call homosapien confuses the heck out of me.  Granted, this happens often, but recently, it happened in the kitchen.  In my cheery, recently rolled out of bed stupor, I plod into the kitchen to quell my morning munchies.  Truth be told, I could graze all day and be a happy camper, but for the sake of family conventions, I adhere to a three-ish meal a day routine.  Back to the kitchen.  I squat down to the bottom shelf of the pantry.  Granola?  Cocoa Crispies?  Special K?  Cocoa Puffs?  Bingo.  I like granola as much as the next gardening, running, health nut girl, but some days you just need a good bowl of Cocoa Puffs.  

As I’m spooning this chocolatey goodness down my gullet, I pause to think about what I’m doing.  Here I am, blissfully breakfasting away… on chocolate flavored who knows what that look remarkably like Kibbles and Bits, drenched in another organism’s milk.  WEIRD.  How did that even come to be?  Adam was walking through the garden one day and saw a calf going to town on its mother’s udder and thought, “Man, I need to get me some of that!”  And who knows what’s in this cereal.  I don’t subscribe to the Processed Foods Conspiracy Monthly Newsletter, but I hear all those rumors about the bug parts to cereal weight ratio and mouse poop and all that.  

What puzzles me is that I purposefully bypassed the whole grain bread on the counter, the tomatoes, plain yogurt and apples in the fridge and even the home made granola sitting next to the Cocoa Puffs.  If I was nutritionally ignorant and my taste buds were on strike, it might make sense.  But I know, sort of, what’s in that cereal!  It’s mushed up corn… and stuff, somehow formed into dog food shapes and baked until crunchy.  Tomatoes have all kinds of vitamins (the naturally occurring kind), grow out of the ground, and don’t resemble dog food.  

This situation is entirely counter-intuitive.  Logic would say, the person should eat what is best, tastes good and doesn’t resemble dog food.  Even an atheist evolutionist would surmise that we should choose what would cause us to survive.  We totally throw that theory.  We are lazy, we overindulge, we work until we’re so stressed we literally die.  We spend thousands on people we hire to fix problems we have created ourselves.  Doesn’t sound like much of a survival instinct to me.  I guess Cocoa Puffs serve as a subtle reminder of our human flaws… and weirdness.  Wait, did I just disprove the theory of evolution by eating breakfast?  

Much love,

Little Miss Sunshine

Getting gotten?

I would describe myself as a go-getter.  If there is sushi to be tried, cliffs to be rappelled, paperwork to be filled out, I'm your girl.  I like to prepare, and I like to plan.  For my upcoming trip to Australia, I've begun a document with lists of Aussie/American lingo, maps of the area, and a rough sketch of activity ideas for the kids I'll be working with.

Life generally favors the go-getters.  If you want to make the team, you play catch with dad in the front yard, and work hard at try-outs.  If you want to go to college, you work hard in school, and save your pennies.  If you want to get the job, you wear the power suit, spray the hair, flash the smile and hand in a sparkling resume.  You make a goal, complete the steps, check off the goal. 

Well.  Here's a goal for you.  I want to get married and have kids.  

My organized, objective self would say, figure out your purchasing power, do some networking and research, and get the job done.  Don't be a pansy, get to work.  Where might a girl do research on such a thing?  www.soyouwanna.com of course, the website for all your aspirational needs.  Unfortunately, they didn't have a category entitled "So you wanna get married without seeming like you really want to get married".  They did, however, have a link to www.catchhimandkeephim.com, where your new friend Christian Carter will give you his manly advice.  I laughed at Mr. Carter's Tangled-esque version of "the smolder" and read one of the headline articles while I was there, which really wasn't too off target.

One of my hesitations on this side of the argument is linked to the title of the SoYouWanna article I searched in vain for.  I am under the distinct impression that wanting to be married, like soon, would result in a blinking neon sign assigned to my forehead that would read "Warning: Desperate, avoid at all costs".  Nothing like a red neon sign on your forehead to banish would-be Prince Charmings!  I mean, how do you play hard to get when you really just want to be gotten?

Then there's the romance-loving-melt-like-chocolate-in-Phoenix-sentimental part of me.  This part of me disdains the dialogue of the other, arguing that it shouldn't be like that.  I'm not marketing a new line of vacuum cleaners, I want to fall in love forever!  I want the whole package- sparkles in the eyes, love letters, serenades, dancing the night away, every last sappy bit of it.

My research spree ended at http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0002148.cfm reading an article about the goodness of waiting.  Despite my good intentions, it seems I've lost sight of reality.  My calling, as I wrote on my application to grad school this afternoon, is to "glorify God and enjoy Him forever".  (You might recognize that from a little old document called the Westminster Shorter Catechism.)  This God that I am to glorify and enjoy forever loves me with an unfailing compassion.  He sees my desires and needs in a way I never could.  He sees Time without ever feeling hurried.  He already sees the end result of my prayer "Dear God, please make him love you with all his heart... and please make him good looking and ... well, You know the rest of the list".  If I really believe these things, my life should be characterized by patience and peace, not discontent or wedding fever, wondering if Prince Charming really exists.

In the meantime, there are Australian high schoolers who need a youth intern, and friends who need letters written to them, and of course a lean mean omelet that needs a little perfecting for whenever Mr. Charming himself decides to show up.

Sunny skies once more,

LMS

Heights and Depths

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us" 


Thanks, Dickens.  


Ever feel that?  I'm not necessarily talking Jack Kerouac, but sort of.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn..."

Really, it would be exhausting to be that sort of person, and not quite sustainable, to feel everything so acutely.  And yet, sometimes I just can't help it.  Hiking down a trail in the San Juans and you come upon a waterfall and you just want to stare at it for the rest of your life.  Playing cards with your Grandma who is slowly sinking into a place like an attic where only old cobwebby memories live and you just want to cry and scream and run away.  Your best friend gets engaged and all you can do is squeal and gush about carats and veils.  Your first kiss and it's like jazz music and having a heart attack and Christmas all at once.  Your first breakup and it's all you can do to get out of bed and force down those Honey Nut Cheerios that used to be your favorite.  

How something could be so heartbreakingly lovely and hurtful and confusing all at once is beyond me, but if I had to guess, it'd have something to do with being stuck in the middle of things.  I wish I could tell it like C.S. Lewis does, but what I can tell you is, the world is a little shadowy.  Plato explained it in Form theory.  Things on earth are sort of physical allusions or shadows of things in eternity.  Allusions, not illusions, mind you.  That feeling you get in the San Juans?  When God makes all things new, that awe will come from a landscape unadulterated, where Death has never walked.  That penetrating ache of loneliness?  It will move from being temporary to permanent in a Hell where community ceases to exist. 


For those in Hell, the goodness of earth is the best thing they'll ever live through.  For those, not by good they've done, but by claiming the Cross as their only rescue, in Paradise, the sadness of earth will be as close to Hell as they ever get.  I can only conclude that the height of love and the depth of pain are only so poignant because they are glimpses into something so grave as eternity.  


Considering the allusions and the consequence of their sources,


Little Miss Sunshine

Ports of entry

Here I am, in my second home.  If you guessed Texas, you'd be wrong.  I love the place, but don't actually spend enough time there to claim it.  Traditionally, I consider the airport my second home.  By airport, I mean simply the general port of entry, not a particular airport. 

There are the usual mechanical rhythms, escalators, moving walkways, automated voices telling you the train is approaching.  Decorating the mechanical skeleton are the usual human elements, crowded coffee shops, bored-looking shoe shiners, and the river of humanity in transit.  Old, young, elated, tired, occupied by business concerns, occupied by small children, all have made their way to this port of entry. 

The particulars of their entry vary.  Some are entering business ventures, bluetooths (teeth?) buried almost permanently in their ears, negotiating and putting on airs for their higher ups.  For them the airport is one of two places.  To the fortunate ones, it is a place of frustration, a symbol of separation from their families.  Those less fortunate view the airport as an escape, a distraction from lives without people to love or a cause to uphold.  But this only represents a fraction of the whole. 

Another caricature to be drawn is that of the young family.  They're off to Disney Land, Grandma's house or other appealing summer destinations.  This group of fliers is the most determined and encumbered.  There are strollers, diaper bags, rolling suitcases with faces of Dora and Spider Man.  Watch out for the mom variety of this group.  She may be kind under usual circumstances, but under extreme conditions like wrangling two or three hungry children, and managing boarding passes for herself, her husband and the children, she could become demanding, frustrated, and reactionary. 

There are smaller groups, like the grandparents traveling to see their children, the college students, and people of the same variety as myself - young singles on their way here or there for travel/internships/adventures. 

Strangely enough, it is in airports that I find a sense of hope for humanity.  Their lives and conflicts are on public display, whether they realize it or not.  I see that business men still miss their sons and show a sense of remorse that they only have a t-shirt from a faraway city to show for missed time.  I see families excited to see relatives arriving from exotic places with names like Grand Rapids and Chattanooga.  I see lovers reunited after an unbearable four days of separation.

Yes, people from the news do exist.  Some do the unthinkable, others act like they are inhabiting a planet of their own.  Thankfully, these are not the majority just yet.  While there exists a possibility for change, hope lingers. 

Thank you, airport, for giving me unlimited entertainment, free wifi, and a glimpse of what Paul wrote about hundreds of years ago when he said, "The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth...made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determind allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, that they should seek God, in the hope that they might feel their way toward him and find him.  Yet he is actually not far from each one of us..."

LMS

Mornings

The condo is quiet, disturbed only by the whirring of the fan and the occasional rustling of a page belonging to the pair of readers downstairs.  This morning, while still in bed, I indulged in a few chapters of C.S. Lewis.  I'm reading through That Hideous Strength again.  In my mind, it rivals Narnia, which is no insignificant claim.  After reading Lewis, words like "curious", "ancient", and "thicket" seem to appear often in my thoughts, just as when I spend time reading Austen, her language seeps into my vocabulary. 

The Colorado sun is strong, but not yet hot as it will be in a few hours.  Soon, duty will beckon and I'll swing my feet over the edge of my bed and trot down to the lodge to say goodbye to my final group of campers.  After a week of living in the shadow of the mountains, we are sending them home to the plains.  Hopefully the physical challenges that taught them endurance will transfer to a life that holds perseverance as a value.  Hopefully the openness we have modeled this week will transfer to struggles that are shared instead of hidden. 

After we've checked the condos for leftover milk and cereal, half of our party will depart for that dark cavern electric with excitement that will be soon crowded with children and adults alike armed with Harry Potter t-shirts and round glasses.  The other half of us will probably lounge around the condo for a bit before mustering the energy to load up gear and hit the trail armed with the climbing guidebooks in search of today's routes. 

As is the case with Austen and Lewis, climbing leaves its own mark in my thoughts.  Only in conversation with climbers talking about the day's climb will you understand words like "slabby" and "rapping" and "mantle-y" in context.  Shouts of "can you dyno to that next jug"?  ring out in the heat of the ascent.  While I have decided that climbing will not become my primary pastime, it is worth dabbling in for the thrill of physical challenge and good company of Benn, Mel, Joshy, and all the rest. 


Little Miss Sunshine

Bread from stones

Every week we hike with the kids, we do a segment called the Silent Hike.  We stop at a spot and send the kids one at a time down the trail with a good distance in between and staff at the beginning and end.  We ask them to look around as they hike and find something that reminds them of God's love for them. 

This week, my Silent Hike find was the river and the river rock. 

The trail we were hiking was one side of a deep canyon.  A river gushed and cut corners through the bottom and opposite us was a craggy rock wall.  How the rock wall and the stones in the river differed!  The stones in the river, though all unique in color and composition, clearly bore the mark of the river.  Some were in different stages of their transformation from jagged rock to river stone, but all were in the process.  The river persists and shows no favorites.  Stones cannot resist its refining power of slowly wearing away rough and sharp edges. 

It's easy to compare ourselves to other followers of Jesus in our transformation from jagged rock to smooth river rock.  We despair because we still have corners in need of wearing away, or we disdain the rough edges of others who have refining still to be done.  Be thankful for the River's persistence.  He won't give up on the work He's begun.  He's also not in the business of making bricks whose strength is in their uniformity.  The river stones maintain their true colors, which are often displayed more clearly as the River washes away the dirt, but all who are in the River bear its mark. 


Thoughts from hiking,
Little Miss Sunshine

I want to be a.... well, maybe I just won't grow up.

Don't you hate it when you erase all you just typed?  Me too.

Old school linear progression of life - you're born, go to school, choose a career, find the love of your life, get married, have a houseful of kids, retire, die.

New school view of life - you're born, attend for a while, attempt to find yourself, travel, work a couple jobs, do what makes you happy, dabble in hobbies, realize you might want to get married, attempt to find yourself and a spouse, travel, get married, maybe have kids, settle into a career, party and dress like you're 25, try to find yourself again, retire, die. 

Sociologically, this way of thinking has some consequences.  The older model provides a situation that is conducive to stable neighborhoods, creating responsible adults, generational accountability, and faithful ministry to the local community.  Although the newer model might be carried out under guises of doing humanitarian work, loving the world, and refusing to get into a rut, it often lacks a stick-with-it-ness that creates lasting relationships and results. 

This newer model is often linked with the idea of being a gypsy - going where life takes you, always up for the next adventure, not being tied down or succumbing to someone else's idea of what's right for your life.  Forget conventional wisdom, just do what you want. 

Being a twenty-something follower of Jesus, this gets a little tricky.  Short-term ministry opportunities abound for those of us willing to travel a little, hang out with kids and youth to show them the love of Christ, and work for little pay and lots of intrinsic reward.  Life is fun, simple, and you get to do what you love.  At what point is this lifestyle no longer appropriate?  At what point do I have to decide, this is what and who I want to be when I grow up?  At what point, as followers of Christ, do we have to take a hard look at sustainable ministry and stable communities and get on board with modeling faithfulness and perseverance to the next generation? 

As for me, I guess I have a year long internship in Australia worth of thinking time.

Little Miss Sunshine