Someone out there still thinks like this...

... and someday, when he finds me, we will be very happy. It may sound silly, but oh well. It's me after all.

“‘When a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future government.’”

“People don’t talk like that anymore, you know.”

“I know. But they should.”

From National Treasure

Seasons of...

Sarah made a funny comment on the way to church tonight. We were listening to one of the mix stations on the way to church, and Sarah noted that one of the songs was reminiscent of “last semester” – meaning a couple months ago. She paused and said, “Wow… I still measure in semesters.” I nodded. “What else is there to measure by? That’s what I’ve measured my life in for years.” And it’s true. The only other thing to measure by is campaigns… and we’ve not even seen a second Congressional cycle. This is one oddity with life after school. How do you measure it?

I do think we started a new season recently. Firefly season. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen them; even when I’ve gone inland, where the fireflies usually come first, I didn’t see them. But now they’re in our complex on these hot summer nights, out playing in the bushes and with the neighborhood kids and they’re utilizing the play set in the last reaches of twilight. They’re even in the laundry room. They tell me its summer, and so long as they are around, the days will be warm and sometimes humid, there will be slightly more leeway at work for early days and adventure. Like Antietam this weekend. (*grin* y’all should come on that note!) So this is a firefly season. But what will I look back on this time as in a year? Five years? Fifty years? Will this semester have a name? How will I mark it?

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights,
In sunsets,
In midnights,
In cups of coffee?
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife?
In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
How do you measure
A year in the life?

Reflections on a busy day of a busy week

It’s been quite the week.
We’ve been blessed with San Diego-like weather: hot and dry with “abundant sunshine,” as the Post calls it from time to time. Earlier this week, the morning sky was that crystal blue that you always see in the movies when they film D.C. It defines the creamy white of the memorials, the sharp point of the Washington Monument cutting against the sky.
Wednesday was a very full day, one that made me feel very immersed in D.C. society. Whether that is a good thing or not remains to be seen. The start was good; I made my 8 a.m. book discussion group. We’re really getting into the meat of it and I enjoy talking about all the fun worldviews stuff. I’m going to need to reread the book, though. I’m going through it too fast.
Then it was to work, and after a few hours I stole down one floor to say hello to Ashley before her organization’s lecture and to steal some food. But on account of my guilt and her petitions, I decided to say. Os Guinness, the speaker, was very good. He talked about freedom, and I thought he had a good, needed perspective on the matter. I’ll have to think more about it when I have time. Good lecture, though, and hopefully a challenge to all of us with the propensity to throw ourselves behind something (e.g. a party) and cry “full speed ahead” while the ship is sinking.
Worked more, had a stack of mail come in (almost always depressing) but at least the majority could go out as forms this time. So my stack is still manageable *content smile* Still want to actually catch up 100 percent – or at least something like it – one of these days. It’s about ¼ of what it used to be, so that is happy and a testament to God’s faithfulness. I keep thinking about coming in on the weekends to catch up and I may yet do that on a Saturday, but I know the times I’ve wanted to come in on Sundays I’ve felt very convicted to consecrate that as the Lord’s day. I’m not Sabbatarian in the strict sense of the word, but I believe it is important to remember why God called us to rest. And I think He quickens us to do better during the workweek sometimes when we obey that command in particular. It’s cool how He works like that.
We were scuttled out of the office early to go to boss’ fundraiser. It was the first time I’ve been to one of these things as a staffer. That was sort of cool. It was in the Capitol Hill Club, and this visit marked only the second time I’d entered that tenured building. I received quite a few compliments on my suit (the crème one), which was fun. I had the chance to speak with Gloria, my boss’ wife, and she is a wonderful lady. You can tell that in spite of all the sacrifices she’s had to make being a politician’s wife, she does it for no other reason than because she loves her husband, and that is enough. That is pretty inspirational.
I skipped out of the fundraiser a tad early to find the restroom and change into my new black dress. *wry grin* This was the dress that Sarah and my conscience wondered “when are you ever going to have a chance to wear something like that?” when I bought it three months ago, but it wasn’t that expensive and I just loved the fit, so I got it anyway. Well, when I ran into Steve (friend from the campaign) at church and to make a long story short asked if I was going to a reception for a mutual friend this week, he asked if I wanted to accompany him. The occasion is that the lady in the family I lived with most of the time I was in Oregon was just appointed by President Bush to be Ambassador to Malta. Now if THAT isn’t weird, I don’t know what is. But I’m getting ahead of myself. So precisely at quarter to seven I walk out of the Capitol Hill Club in a different outfit than I was wearing when I walked in, which made me feel, well, very D.C.
So Steve picked me up and we headed over to the steakhouse at which the reception was held. It’s on the Senate side, that place with the big glass windows I used to walk by when I was at Heritage and think, wow, it’d be really cool to eat there someday. And while I didn’t exactly have a sit down dinner, I did eat there, so there is proof positive that some D.C. pipedreams and offhand comments do, in fact, come true.
It was very fun to see Molly – ur that is, Misses Ambassador – and a handful of folks from the campaign. *grin* One in particular seemed scandalized by my dress, bearing that sort of “church coordinator wearing spaghetti strap dress this does not compute” look. Met some cool people from the State Department who will be working with her. They were very interested to talk to; one is a linguist and was telling me how Maltese is a hybrid language between Italian and Arabic. Go figure that one. Another huge highlight was talking to Matt, Mister Ambassador (or whatever he’d be called). He’s been a stay at home dad since their family started to free Molly up to do her political thing. He is just one cool guy. He loves his kids and they’re important enough to him that having a career simply doesn’t matter to him anymore. And that is such a cool thing to see. They had two little ones when I lived with them and another baby girl arrived in March. So this young family is taking off to help change Malta for the better. They’re really excited and up to the task, and to them I wish Godspeed in the tasks ahead.
I shouldn’t drone further, but Wednesday was a particular busy day. I feel duly immersed in all things D.C. I hesitate to make a value judgment on whether that is good news of progressing the social ladder or a mark of slowly selling my soul to the city that has already claimed so many. But by God’s grace, I think I’m doing alright.

For anyone interested...

This is the link to the newest journalistic endeavor concerning PHC, from a writer who I understand actually lived on campus for a few months. It's... interesting. Response forthcoming, once I have time and decide I want to violate the sanctity of my evenings. *wry grin* I've decided that NOT being on my computer at night is one of the most relaxing and liberating things in the world... but that's a complete aside. Enjoy.

http://www.newyorker.com/fact/content/articles/050627fa_fact

One thought in the meantime, courtesy of an old 4Him song…

This world can analyze and size you up and throw you on the scales,
They can IQ you and run you through their rigorous details
They can do their best to rate you and they'll place you on the charts
And then back it up with scientific smarts;
But there's more to what you're worth than what their human eyes can see --

Oh, I say the measure of a man
Is not how tall you stand,
How wealthy or intelligent you are;
‘Cause I’ve found out the measure of a man
God knows and understands
For He looks inside to the bottom of your heart,
And what's in the heart defines
The measure of a man.

Remember When It Rained

Good Josh Groban song we were listening to going out to Leesburg last night. I liked it so I'm posting it.

Wash away the thoughts inside
That keep my mind away from You
No more love and no more pride
The thoughts are all I have to do

Oh, remember when it rained
Felt the ground and looked up high and called Your name?
O, remember when it rained
In the darkness I remain…

Tears of hope run down my skin
Tears for You that will not dry
They magnify the One within
Let the outside slowly die

O, remember when it rained
Felt the ground and looked up high and called Your name?
O, remember when it rained
In the darkness I remain…

Assurance

I am loved with an everlasting love,
Clothed in eternal righteousness,
My peace flowing like a river,
My comforts many and large,
My joy and triumph unutterable,
My soul lively with a knowledge of salvation,
My sense of justification unclouded.

Jesus smiles upon my soul as a ray of Heaven
And my supplications are swallowed up in praise.
How sweet is the glorious doctrine of election
When based upon thy Word
And wrought inwardly within the soul!
I bless Thee that Thou wilt keep the sinner Thou hast loved,
And hast engaged that he will not forsake thee,
Else I would never get to Heaven.

I wrong the work of Grace in my heart
If I deny my new nature and my eternal life.
If Jesus were not my righteousness and redemption,
I would sink into nethermost hell
By my misdoings, shortcomings, unbelief, unlove;
If Jesus were not by the power of His Spirit my sanctification,
There is no sin I should not commit.

O when shall I have His mind!
When shall I be conformed to His image?
All the good things of life and less than nothing
When compared with His love,
And with one glimpse of Thy electing favour.
All the treasures of a million worlds could not
Make me richer, happier, more contented,
For His unsearchable riches are mine.

One moment of communion with Him,
One view of His grace,
Is ineffable, inestimable.
But O, God, I could not long after Thy presence
If I did not know the sweetness of it;
And such I could not know except by Thy Spirit
In my heart, nor love Thee at all unless Thou didst
Elect me, call me, adopt me, save me.
I bless thee for the covenant of Grace.

~ The Valley of Vision

Martha, Martha, you are troubled and worried about many things...

Where is the line between being honest with God and choosing to not be content with your circumstances?

We had an interesting but very good Bible study the other night. The guest speaker was a missionary from southeast Asia. He led us through a brief overview study of Jacob’s life. While I think we tended to be pretty critical of Jacob – perhaps seeing in him the very things we should be purging from ourselves – and I appreciated this passage in particular, from Genesis 32:

⁹Then Jacob said, "O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, the LORD who said to me, "Return to your country and to your family, and I will deal well with you': ¹⁰I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies and of all the truth which You have shown Your servant; for I crossed over this Jordan with my staff, and now I have become two companies. ¹¹Deliver me, I pray, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau; for I fear him, lest he come and attack me and the mother with the children. ¹²But You said, "I will surely treat you well, and make your descendants as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude."'

I appreciate the fact that he’s honest about his fears, but responds to them himself with the truth of God’s preexisting and preeminent promise. I think that sets a good model for us. Too often we tend to be one way or the other, either listing a plethora of human faults and fears or simply repeating wheat we’re supposed to be thinking without acknowledging that God may be trying to teach me something in particular. So there is a balance. Jacob wants this something more, he wants to believe the promise. Can you hear the echoes – “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief!” But he is also aware of his circumstances. And sometimes, isn’t acknowledging the impossibility of it all a part of how God gets more glory when He does pull through, as He always does?

And the funny thing is, too, as exemplified in Jacob’s life, so many times the blessing is right there before our eyes, but we’re so busy trying to make it happen or assist God if we think His timing is off that we are missing the exceedingly abundant blessing that is already there. We also have to remember that the patriarchs all died in faith, not having seen all the promises fulfilled… but they still believed. But weren’t there times they longed, too?

I had a really fun evening tonight. After work, my girls and Aaron hit Old Town Alexandria. We found a nice Thai bistro with outdoor seating – it was perfect weatherwise, for the record. Just spectacular. We enjoyed our respective dishes (yay for Thai style fried rice, still one of my favorite things in life!) and then walked down King Street all the way to the waterfront. I’d never been down there before and was just dazzled. It was much like San Diego’s Seaport Village, but with East Coast flair. There’s a whole bunch of nice restaurants, each with a distinct personality and style, and specialty stores lining the streets. A few tour guides in colonial era costume were getting ready to lead a ghost tour. Lanterns were lit outside the stone buildings, and we came to the water, where the boats flowed gently back and forth and street musicians played their tunes. A gentle breeze, twilight, company of friends – it was wonderful. So why did I have to fight to keep my mind from going back to, “this is so romantic… if only there was someone I could be sharing this with!” Obviously, I’m sharing it with three people right now, so what have I to complain about? God’s not left me alone. I have the love and companionship of amazing people. So why can’t I focus on and be grateful for that?

As we were walking back, I put my arm around Sarah. We both acknowledged that she wished I was someone else, and had a good laugh about that. At least she knows who she’s missing.

I was very convicted reading Jesus’ admonition to Martha the other day. “You are troubled and worried about many things.” I can almost hear the disappointment, the pleading in His voice. "Martha, don’t you see the most important thing is right here in front of you? Do you want to miss the blessing?"

Leeann, Leeann, you are worried and troubled about many things. So tell Me about them, leave them here, I will take care of them – and I will give you rest, if you’ll only let Me.

Tonight

Not much going on tonight. A lot of thoughts, but not many coherent. It was a pretty night, humid but pretty. We had a storm around twilight, and it turned the sky yellow. The bright green of the trees and the gray skies were all mixed in an off-gold hue. I made basil spaghetti; the fresh herbs, onions and garlic filled the house. It smelled so good. I scurried around the kitchen as my roomies recovered from romping around with the neighbor kids. It was nice to just be home and have some time to cook, but they’d already eaten. I was bummed I didn’t have anyone to cook for but oh well. I curled up with my dinner and a fun story (thanks, Peter!) and just existed a while. It was nice, and I could certainly get more used to that. Maybe for another lifetime.

An Ode to Undeserved Friendships

We never appreciate the people God places in our lives nearly enough, especially at the time He is using them the most. Scripture calls it “iron sharpening iron,” and as I am now fond of saying, that causes a lot of sparks to fly, a lot of unpleasant noise, but isn’t that the strange feeling of Him working all for good?

I’m completely surrounded by people whom I am amazed by simply because they put up with me. And I’m even starting to get an idea of what it is like to have siblings, silly as it may sound. I’ve just not known many people long and deep enough to have that sort of relationship. But with some people I think I’m getting there. For example, a couple weeks ago Allis said something to me that came across as very sharp – I can’t remember even what it was, but I remember the tone – and I couldn’t understand it. But it happened again last week, and I realized something – it’s the same sort of interaction I’ve seen her have with her sisters (the few times I’ve seen them together) when she’s giving them loving correction. She uses the tone because she knows it’s what it takes to get across that duel purpose of love and reprimand. And now I realize it’s not meanness; au contraire, it’s the very essence of Christian fellowship. I’m almost a real sister, and that is so cool. Our interaction is predicated on the fact that we both love God and care about each other. What do we need more than that?

That is how so many friendships start, but too few friendships stay or return there. And that is a tragedy.

I am also struck by how some of my friends, by God’s grace, don’t let me forget who I am. In so many ways, I’ve been trying to kill some of my dreams for the future in the name of practicality and contentment, so I can be happy just doing my job and not thinking anything will ever change. So I can lull myself into a reality that’s so far short of what I want deep down inside. I am humbled that I have friends who will call me out on that, and not let me give up, and give me a glimpse of what I used to be able to see so clearly. For the people who’ve told me, even before I needed to hear it, that I would “see the sun again.” They know I’m far from perfect, but they know I don’t want to give up, even when I say I do. Friends who either by action or by word have told me to not give up, that miracles are still possible. There have been times I said I didn’t want to hear it, but there’s that something deep inside my heart saying, Yes, listen to them. There’s a reason this hurts, it’s because it’s something so central to who you are and to who God created you to be, that any battle dealing with it will be inherently painful. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth fighting for.

It’s little things like me turning to Allis and Sarah (or IMing Cassidy) after watching National Treasure tonight and saying with my overenthused I-just-watched-a-movie-I-really-liked voice and say, “I just need to find someone like Ben Gates [Nicholas Cage’s dashing, brave, exciting, Han-Solo-esque character]!!!” They don’t just roll their eyes and shake their head, though they may do that too. But they recognize that I want adventure and excitement in life, that I cannot stand idly by forever. And the crazy thing is, I don’t think they think there’s anything wrong with that.

I’ve also appreciated how people have pointed out to me when I start complaining about my job that I would be going crazy in a true bureaucratic position, feeling that I wasn’t making a real difference in people’s lives, and that me having a 9-to-5 for the sake of having a 9-to-5 would leave me searching in the why-am-I-here sort of way. Yes, I am tired a lot because I pour so much into my job. But would I really be happy any other way?

To the people to have reminded me that the answer to that question is a resounding no, thank you.

And to those I share inside jokes with, thank you for brightening my life by remembering the little things. To those who put up with reading my writing (and feel like they can’t ever say “no” to a “do you want to read this thing I just wrote??”), thank you. To those who share their own writing and talk about it with me, thank you for making me feel like I am somehow a part of a literary community. Brothers and sisters in Christ, thank you for reminding me to run to the Cross and reflecting by His sovereign grace His love. I’m trying to learn by your example and somehow be the friend you have been to me. All glory to God for His grace and work in your lives, and mine.

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work; if one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

Remember Surrender

As in so many times in the past, I am indebted to Sarah Groves for her beautiful expressions of what it is to be one of those with duel citizenship between the City of God and the City of Man… thank you to Kelly, whose email made me cry and somehow brought this song to mind. I want to do so much more than remember. May God move me on.

Remember surrender, remember the rest
Remember that weight lifting off of your chest
And realizing that it's not up to you and it never was;
Remember surrender, remember relief
Remember how tears rolled down both of your cheeks
As the warmth of a Heavenly Father came closing in

I want to do that again, why can't I live there
And make my home in sweet surrender?
I want to do so much more than remember…

Remember surrender, remember peace
Remember how soundly you fell fast asleep
In the face of your troubles your future still shone like the morning sun
Remember surrender, remember that sound
Of all of those voices dying down
But one who speaks clearly of helping and healing you deep within

I want to do that again, why can't I live there
And make my home in sweet surrender?
I want to do so much more than remember…
Remember
Oh surrender.

Wedding Report #2: The du Mee Melee

I will definitely go into some detail of some of the cooler moments of the weekend, but I just had to get some post up, so I’m going to put up some general points and paint with a broad brush to give you an idea of what life was like for the last few days.

• As I predicted (see post below), Sarah did come bounding in, telling me to get my laziness out of bed. It was 5:45 a.m. I was excited to get up, but not nearly as excited as I was when we made it to Starbucks at 6:15 a.m.
• Independence Air isn’t big on on-time departures or arrivals, but that’s ok when your ride isn’t big on finding routes that are construction-free, either. Peter unfortunately found himself tangled in a web of deception and traffic somewhere between Tennessee and Kentucky, so we camped out at the Starbucks-Burger King-Pizza Hut plaza, buying coffee and French fries so they’d allow us to stay. I was very devious and told Peter to just show up there instead of meeting us at the curb – surprises are just so much more delightful. To say the least, there was much rejoicing.
• Allis does NOT like humidity.
• The only thing more surreal than a wedding rehearsal is the wedding itself. During the rehearsal you can play it off as a funny like, why are we playing around in the church? And then the next day, there are two hundred people there watching you do the same thing, except they’re dressed up and you’re dressed up, and all you can think is, why are we playing around in the church?
• At this particular wedding, there was an incidence of what can be best described as attempted assault. However, the victim was not interested in pressing charges. Go figure. These weddings are getting violent.
• There are few things in life better than seeing two people who love each other being together. There’s just something great about it, like when we used to go on trips and Mom and Dad would be holding hands across the armrest in the front. It just makes you feel more secure to know they’re nearby.
• Christy is gone…
• The Fendrichs are definitively the COOLEST family besides my own. Fireflies are still very fun and mosquitoes are still very obnoxious, but there’s still nothing like a night in the countryside in a cornfield. I really wouldn’t mind living out in the middle of nowhere, at least for a while. It’s peaceful. No constituents. Just fun folks.
• Staying up late to talk to one of your best friends and lounging in the dark with a lot of pillows, giggling and whispering, is definitely one of the best things in the world. That’s one of the things that will stick with me forever on this trip: talking to Sarah till who-knows-when on Saturday night/Sunday morning. *grin*

I do not have the ability to post pictures from the wedding, sadly, but if you really want some I can do the email thing. They’re mostly just random ones of Starbucks stops along the way, the Fendrich family, etc., but there are good ones of the wedding too.

It was a good weekend. Really tired and a lot to think about… so many thoughts trying to taunt me… but I know God is good, and He is faithful, even when we don’t see it.

Hang in there, all. Behind a frowning Providence He hides a smiling face.

And congrats, Matthew and Christy.

Leaving on a jet plane

It’s interesting how memories at airports seem so timeless and vivid. I remember the day I left San Diego to come to PHC; when I said goodbye to my Dad, I nearly lost it. I was so terrified, I almost decided to call the whole thing off right there. A lot of people may think I was brave to come all the way out here; those people don’t know how close I came to nipping this adventure in the bud. It was an awful moment. That same morning, Mom and I made our way to the gate. Someone was waiting for me there. (This predated September 11 by about three weeks, so guests were still allowed at the gate.) It was Jason, who came to say goodbye and gave me this silly little monkey to remember him by. That was very special. Then as college went on, there was always apprehension: what had changed at home since I’d been gone? What would I find? Or after a long break, what would school be like with Amanda gone? What if everyone forgot about me? I remember the claustrophobic feeling of making my way to the baggage claim coming back to Virginia after the campaign. I could feel everything and nothing and my heart was going a million miles an hour. I can still recall every step, every breath, every anxiety, every relief.

Equally fascinating are the rituals surrounding flying. My family didn’t travel a whole lot when I was growing up, but when we did fly, everything was neatly packed the night before, with just small spaces left open, allocated for the last minute essentials – carry-on food and toothbrushes and the like. The clothes you were going to wear on the plane were laid out so they could be easily accessed when the morning came too early. And I never, ever sleep well the night before I fly.

And so it will be for this trip. In a couple minutes I’m going to do my packing. My outfit for tomorrow will lie in state on the big overstuffed chair in my room. My suitcase, wedding gift and flute and clothes all neatly arranged, will rest not far away. I’ll stare at the ceiling for an hour or two, until blackness fades to unconsciousness, and then my alarm will go off. (Or Sarah will come bounding in to tell me to get my lazy self out of bed NOW because she is NOT missing this flight ;))

Seriously, it’s all so familiar in one sense. And yet I’m starting to fly for reasons I never did before. In February, I flew with Cassidy to South Carolina. That was really the first time I just got on a plane with a friend because I could. Tomorrow I’m going to one of my best friend’s wedding, flanked by two of my other best friends, because going to a friend’s wedding is just what you do. We’re “at that stage” in life, it’s “what happens at that age.” (A clique is worth a thousand boots to the head, for the record.) No, let’s talk about what it is. It’s WEIRD. Yes it is wonderful and timely and all those other things, but it is also weird, and it’s okay for it to be weird because this is the first time that it is this time in my life. (And if this isn’t a self-referentially based argument, then I’m a codfish.) (Can you tell I’m big on the parenthetical statements today?) I mean, Christy is getting married. We used to live together. She used to jest about getting a restraining order against the man she’s now marrying. Time changes so many things. I used to just fly to get to my family, sometimes to go visit a friend. Now I fly because people want me to come witness them on one of the most important day of their lives.

We’re growing up.

Lots of memories to be made this weekend… both at and away from the airport. Here’s to leaving on a jet plane.