Virginia Beach

How can one put into words the oasis created by three perfect days far away from the ringing of Hill phones and angry constituents, no house chores to do, and time allotted specifically for doing nothing? I spent more time in the last three days with sand between my toes than I did sleeping. Well, sleeping when NOT on the beach, because I did some of that, too. It was my first experience in the Atlantic proper, and I must say I was duly impressed. The water temperature was somewhere approaching 80 and the air temperature was a basically dry 84 with a nice breeze. That’s the analytical way to say what the beach bums call “totally awesome!”
Sarah and I drove to the Leichliter’s on Friday night, making good time after the initial DC-Friday-afternoon traffic. We made it there by about 8:30 and spent the evening chatting and eating ice cream. Then we were up-and-at-‘em to hit the beach on Saturday morning. Unfortunately, we decided to take the long way there – but a couple minutes less in the sun probably didn’t hurt us. We arrived on the beach, which wasn’t nearly as populated as one might expect on a Labor Day weekend, and our time went something like this: set up camp, swim, lay on the beach, read, get too warm, swim, lay on beach, take a walk, get warm, swim, ad infinitum. And it was fantastic.
Having been raised in a beach town, it was hard to wrap my mind around the idea of going to the beach as a vacation. Beaches were as much a part of my upbringing as my ABCs. Going to Aruba or Tahiti or has never really appealed to me. But this experience has convinced me of my previous inadequacy of understanding. Beaches are a good thing. I’d still rather go to Scotland or Ireland any day, but I now at least understand why someone would want to go on a tropical vacation.
The next day was much the same, but sadly, with less swimming. Some rip currents came up and the lifeguards weren’t letting people in past knee-height. Pansies. I knew the lifeguards were pansies on the first day when I was just swimming around trying to see where my ocean swimming skills are anymore, and I was just getting out past the initial layer of waves when I was called in. Now I know they don’t want people messing around, but come on, I was not more than 30 strokes from shore – and in a depth not much more than my height! I call that pa-tha-tic. Out in California we have ocean swimmers who will go out a mile or two off shore and then swim back, and our lifeguards don’t complain! They just save you if you need it! I thought that was the point. Oh well.
So in the absence of an ability to get in the water, we did a lot more walking around on Sunday. We visited the little shops, grabbed smoothies, got hit on in the smoothie shop, and walked up and down the boardwalk a couple times. So we got in our exercise. We had dinner at this neat little place called Abbey Road Pub and Restaurant, a Beatles-themed British place not far from the water. I would gripe about the fact that they refused our coupon except for the fact that they had the best crab cakes I’ve ever had. And really good nachos. Except for the fact that in Virginia Beach, the waiters don’t seem to have a concept of an “appetizer” at something that comes BEFORE the main course – both nights, our appetizer came with our meal. So much for appeasing!
We came back pretty tired and sunburned on Sunday night, but with enough energy to chat it up plenty with Mark and Erin. Enough to cause plenty of trouble. *wry grin* Sometimes it’s just good to remember that we still have our edge. With the way Erin was taking notes this weekend I thought I was a regular walking quote wall, but that is what I get for opening my big fat mouth… (and as Sarah would say, “I was about to say that!”)
Today, we all sat down to breakfast, had and a good laugh over the fact that I wasn’t the one making breakfast. Mark commented that it was time they returned the favor after the years I made people breakfast in college. Hmm. Wondering if that means I can start calling in the favors all over the country at some point… anyway, Mark then set his mind on studying, so we girls had some good girl talk. It was very fun to just have a relaxing time to putz around. And wonderful to see Erin. Always good to see evidence up close and personal that dreams do still come true. I remember back when I would go up to Erin’s room and we would just yell to the rafters about our issues… *chuckle* I’m glad those days are over for her sake! And it’s nice to remember that married people can still be cool and friendly. So thanks for extending your floor space to us, guys! We had a wonderful time.
And Sarah and I just had fun existing. We were content most of the time to just lie down and read in turn, just vegging and relishing it. (No pun intended…) We kept dressing alike and saying a lot of things at the same time, but what else is new. I’m just so thankful to be blessed with such friends.
So it was a marvelous weekend. I can’t believe boss will be back tomorrow, and now there’s two vacancies on the Supreme Court. I’m glad we won’t be dealing with it directly, but I’m sure our constituents will think we are. *sigh* I hope the House can adjourn without the Senate, otherwise, this could be a wild ride.
But for now, I’ll just enjoy the remaining 10 hours or so of my vacation.
Good night, world. :)

Virginia Beach Pics!

The rant you'll miss till next week

I was going to post a diatribe about what an awful time this is to be working in D.C., but my thoughts were too emotional and I am too close to it at the moment, so hopefully I’ll be able to comment at a later time about just how stupid people can be.
In the meantime, here is a brain teaser for you social scientist-mathematic types. *wry grin*
Take two stressed-out D.C. ladies, add a trunkful of luggage, a full bag of mostly junk food, a Camry, an energy crisis, two cases of CDs, and directions to Virginia Beach, divide by stress and the cares of this world, multiply by however many miles an hour the road will allow…
What does it add up to? Stay tuned – the answer will come next week!

Lost Enough, Part II

Last night, I got angry.
I am not an angry person by nature, but if there is one thing that arouses my ire, it is a circumstance in which I lose something – physically misplace it – and have to go to what seems like the ends of the earth in my search. And what happens in the process is that all the subliminal stuff that has been bothering me suddenly bubbles to the surface. It’s like my poli-sci teacher in community college used to say (among other things): “when the pot boils, the scum rises to the top.”
So last night, I was pretty scummy.
I was trying to locate my brand-new digital camera, my graduation present from my parents. I had been keeping it in my closet, since that’s my only real storage for such little things, but when I looked, it was not in any of its usual locations. Concern rose to fear when I started tearing through my entire wardrobe (most of my sweaters, etc. are folded and I thought it could be in there somewhere). Fear gave way to a sense of helplessness and mild terror. In my head I kept telling myself, “Leeann, it’s just a thing – it’s a physical thing. It can always be replaced. At least your townhouse isn’t flooded to the second-story ceiling like some folks’ are right now.” But I kept musing to myself about how careless, thoughtless, and irresponsible I was – and I was angry at myself for my foolishness. Losing the camera felt like icing on the cake for a lot of other cares weighing on my mind, situations in which I feel completely incapable of doing anything. Or if I am capable of something, I am only capable of messing it up. I told Sarah at one point, when I was curled up in my closet, that I couldn’t do anything right. Faithful Sarah, ever the optimist to inspire my optimism, assured me that it couldn’t be far away and we would find it.
About a half hour later, after looking under furniture and though clothes and downstairs closets, no trace of the camera was found. I despaired, dreading telling my parents about the experience because I knew I had let them down by being so irresponsible with such a valued gift. The one thing I had asked for as a graduation present, and something my Mom worked particularly hard to research. I know they would hardly be truly upset about it, but I was mad enough for the three of us. My inadequacy was no longer hidden in the recesses of my being; it was laid wide open for the world to see. The same transparency that couldn’t stop my face from reflecting inner turmoil now shed light on my imperfection. I had a giant sign on my forehead, and it read I AM NOT IN CONTROL.
Sarah continued to be very matter-of-fact about the whole thing. “Well, either someone picked it up accidentally or it’s in one of the cars.”
One of the cars. Right. Because I would leave a camera to jostle around on the floor of one of my roommate’s cars. And if someone visiting had accidentally picked up my camera, surely they would have realized the error by now.
I sat back and realized how utterly selfish I was being, allowing my circumstance to cloud my every perception to the point that it was impacting the lives of others. An entire metropolis is under water at the moment, families have lost everything, and here I am whining about a camera.
It’s all about perspective.
About this time, Sarah’s words jogged a vague recollection in my mind of having my camera in Allis’ car – I had no idea for what, or when it was – but I thought it was worth a shot.
So I went out, in my t-shirt and drunk penguin pajama pants (trust me: if you’d seen them you know what I was talking about), key in hand. I sat in the driver’s seat, reached over, and popped the glove box.
Therein was the camera.
I’ll admit it; there were tears in my eyes. The camera had been there the whole time, and all my sifting through my belongings hadn’t done a thing in the effort to find it. (Though it did make me reorganize and set a few things aside for donation.) It was hidden in an unlikely place, one I didn’t believe held the answer. And yet it did.
As I trudged back to my townhouse, camera in tow, I pondered a moment.
Okay, Lord. I’m guessing there is more to this than reminding me to keep a perspective of physical things and to curb my selfishness.
That would be correct.
What is it, then?
Only this, My child: in times when you feel lost, you would do well to listen to others. To Me and the people I put in your life. That is all.
‘Tis true. If I had written Sarah’s idea off completely, I wouldn’t have my camera right now. I didn’t believe her at first, but ultimately, recognizing the possibility led me to trust enough to even go out to the car.
Seeing parallels to other areas of life here. Very interesting.
So after all that, I turned on some music, and the Fernando Ortega version of “Lord of Eternity” (below) came on. And I reflected on how God brings me to these points, in different areas and at different times, all with His painstaking care… just to show me that sign on my forehead is right. I am not in control. But He gives me cause to rejoice over that fact and recognize what a privilege it is to be free of the cares of this world, to be a daughter of the King. I thank God for these feelings of lostness; it clears my mind of the delusion that I knew where I was going in the first place.
So here I am, Lord, lost enough to let myself be led. Let down Your mighty hand to take mine, and I will follow. Here we go.

Lost Enough

For everyone who is feeling this at the moment, those who have yet to trod this path, with grateful thanks to those who have gone before and written their stories. Thank you, God, for leading me to where I'm lost enough to let myself be led.

You who live in heaven
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth
Who are afraid of being left by those we love
And who get hardended by the hurt;
Do You remember when You lived down here where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread?
Did You forget about us after You had flown away
Well I memorized every word You said,
Still I’m so scared I’m holding my breath…
While You’re up there just playing hard to get...

You who live in radiance
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin
We have a love that’s not as patient as Yours was
Still we do love now and then;
Did You ever know loneliness, Did You ever know need
Do You remember just how long a night can get?
When You were barely holding on, and Your friends all fall asleep
And You don’t see the blood that’s running in Your sweat
Will those who mourn be left uncomforted
While You’re up there just playing hard to get?

And I know You bore our sorrows
I know You feel our pain
And I know that it would not hurt any less
Even if it could be explained;
And I know that I am only lashing out
At the One who loves me most
And after I have figured this out somehow
All I really need to know…

Is if You who live in eternity
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time;
We can’t see what’s ahead
And we cannot get free of what we’ve left behind…
I’m reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret;
I can’t see how You’re leading me, unless You’ve led me here,
To where I’m lost enough to let myself be led…

And so, You’ve been here all along, I guess;
It’s just Your ways and You are just plain hard to get.

Why I Heart Recess

A couple housekeeping items to begin with. Many thanks to Kelly Sau… er… Langner (at least for another few weeks) for the blog facelift. Apparently, planning a wedding and moving isn’t enough to keep this girl busy. *grin* The new look highlights a picture from the coastline of Scotland (above) and a hunter green trim. No, it’s not black. Yes, I’m sure.

Next, major kudos, congrats, and praises to God for Chris becoming the assistant campaign manager for Michael Golden, who is running for State Delegate down in the greater Springfield area. So I guess we’ll see him again sometime after November 2. I have a baggie of Emergen-C waiting for you if you happen to stop by. Gotta have the campaign essentials!

Third item has to deal with my absence of late. It's called recess and all the computer work done during said time. I had the blessing of having something of a mini-vacation this weekend; spent Thursday with errands and working from home, then spent Friday and Saturday in Purcellville, helping Kelly move and Naomi celebrate her birthday. Also had coffee with Faith and saw Sweet Home Alabama.

I have to confess, though, I think the best part of the weekend was simply getting to drive. When I was driving out to Purcellville on Friday afternoon, it was cloudy and cool. I turned up some Carolyn Dawn Johnson as my surroundings went from citified to suburban to rural. Just as you start descending down 7 west, just past Tyson’s, there’s a moment that the valley is situated just so all you see are the trees around you and the deep blue hills straight ahead. Makes a girl feel like she could drive for days.

As more and more grass came into view, I rolled the windows down and let it whip through my hair. The air was fresh, and, dare I say it, crisp. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is late August and I believe we are quickly approaching the actual end of summer and running to the golden embrace of autumn. I will do a more comprehensive post about the glories of fall in the near future, but this is just a rambling post, so all coherent thoughts are to be kept to an absolute minimum.

I also enjoyed being out at the house Kelly and Kate are sitting. It’s out in the middle of a huge field of… something… I’m not sure what, but it is green and seemingly endless. When it rained yesterday, it was so perfect. I felt so inspired. I could’ve set up camp there – oh, if only it had been a cabin! – and written for days. But I’d get fired eventually. This whole responsibility thing is highly overrated. I enjoyed freedom while I could, with chai and a lot of laughter.

So many thanks to Sarah for leaving me the keys. Well, I guess I should thank her sister for getting married in Ohio, but I’ll stick with thanking Sarah. Who gets home tonight. Yay!!

In other news, done a lot of thinking about looking for grace lately – in others’ lives as well as my own. We’re so prone to be critical, and I know I have a particular vulnerability to harp on others’ faults. I’m also prone to look at how I think I am not blessed – or to put that in more common terms, coveting what I don’t have. But God has given us everything we need to be complete in Him, and the very fact that He has redeemed us is grounds for infinite praise. May I never be so focused on what I don’t have that I miss the very rich reality God has given His all to provide for me. I am so blessed… “and I feel like I’ve found my way… I thank God for all I’ve been given… at the end of every day… I have been blessed… with so much more than I deserve…”

But actually, no, I’m not listening to country. The music of choice at the moment is a bit retro for me. I’m reverting back to my high school habit of… smooth jazz. Yes, some people call it elevator music. I happen to like it. It reminds me of the easygoing lifestyle of San Diego. And it features some very talented instrumentalists. You have to have an ear for it, I guess. I think it’s nice. And there’s not nearly as many commercials as on other stations.

Well, here’s to another week. Think I am going to take a short nap before evening service. Just five days till the big Labor Day excursion to lovely Virginia Beach! Atlantic Ocean, here we come!

The Offensive Language of Rights

Of all the authors that shaped my young mind, the strongest influence from almost as early as I can remember was C.S. Lewis.
In one of his hallmark works, “The Great Divorce,” Lewis gives readers a Dante-like tour through Heaven and Hell, but with an amazing candor that completely blows all other Heaven-Hell stories out of the water because of its applicability to life now, always a Lewis touchstone. I don’t remember when I first read this particular exchange, but I was probably not more than ten or eleven years old. It’s the dialogue between a Spirit (resident of Heaven who was a man) and a Ghost (a man), and it made a distinct impression on me.
“Who’s ‘going on?’... I’m asking for nothing but my rights. You may think you can put me down… but I got to have my rights same as you, see?”
“Oh no. It’s not so bad as that. I haven’t got my rights, or I should not be here. You will not get yours either. You’ll get something far better. Never fear.”


We are a rights-based culture, and that worked for us – for a while.
After all, what is wrong with the right to a free press? The right to self-government? Even better: the most fundamental, the first to be mentioned in the Declaration of Independence – the right to life?
The language changed a little as time went on, but the message was no less poignant. “Freedom of speech and expression; freedom of every person to worship God in his own way; freedom from want; freedom from fear.” No “rights” are cited here, but isn’t that term pretty much interchangeable with freedom in this context?
In comparison even to these later-established rights, our modern usage of the term has so cheapened any notion of a right that it’s almost unrecognizable. We have animal rights groups, and the “right to the government paying for my retirement” (the shorthand of that is Social Security). One recent letter I received in the office went so far as to say, “I have the right to affordable gasoline.” Oh, really.
More common: “You have no right to say that to me.”
“You have the right to remain silent.” (I wish more people realized this outside the context of being arrested, for the record.)
But if God gave us these rights, why have they resulted in such division, self-centeredness, and malice?


Let’s go back to our nation's beginning. Was Thomas Jefferson right?
Before all the Jefferson-philes and Jefferson-haters alike have a collective heart attack that I would even ask such a question, let me get to the point: were all men endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights?
I did a search for the word “right” in Scripture. It is used in the NKJ in only three ways: to describe a direction or side (“The righteous right hand…”), to distinguish from wrong (“the wise man does what is right”), and to describe a “right” in the terms I’ve been using. Funny thing is it’s used in the first two senses about 90 percent time. The use of “right” in any other sense is only utilized 15 times throughout the Bible. When used, it is mostly in the context of rights granted under human law (“What right have I still to cry out anymore to the king?” 2 Samuel 19:28, or a right of inheritance or redemption).
Only in the New Testament are God-granted rights mentioned. The first is in John 1: “but as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God.”
The only thorough discussion of the rights of a believer occurs in 1 Corinthians 9. “Do we have no right to eat and drink?... do we have no right to take along a believing wife, as do also the other apostles?... or is it only Barnabas and I who have no right to refrain from working?... nevertheless we have not used this right, but endure all things lest we hinder the gospel of Christ.”
So there is a surprising little about rights in Scripture. Even God-given rights are to be taken with a light grasp. We must be willing to let them go. An absolute claim to our rights is tantamount to an affront to God’s sovereignty. So the famous preamble to the Declaration of Independence… the one we herald as a part of our nation’s Christian heritage… is it really just a bunch of enlightenment gobbily-goop after all? The only right we have is, by God's grace, to become His children. That is, as it should be, the Alpha and Omega of our searching.
Really, why do we ask for our rights once we know what we truly deserve? What do we think we are owed?
After all, we will get something far better… never fear.

Prove Me Wrong

In case any of you care or were wondering, this is what I will be singing in my head on the way home tonight... this Caedmon's Call has a great mix of the harsh reality of life while being upbeat, at least when its sung... always encouraging to know we don't have to be right as long as we trust the One who is.

Sometimes I fear
Maybe I'm not chosen
You've hardened my heart like Pharaoh
And that would explain why life is so hard for me
And I am sad Esau hated
Crying against what's fated
Saying “Father, please, is there any left for me?”

Cast out my doubts, please prove me wrong
'Cause these demons can be so headstrong;
Make my walls fall, please prove me wrong
'Cause this resentment's been building
Burn them up with Your fire so strong
If You can before I bail, please prove me wrong

Sometimes I fear maybe this is all just a game
Our friends and our families all play too
To harness the young and give some comfort to the old

Don't let my doubts prove true
Draw me close and hold me near to You
Keep me still until the day You…

Cast out my doubts, and You prove me wrong
'Cause these demons can be so headstrong;
Make my walls fall, please prove me wrong
'Cause this resentment's been building
You burn them up with Your fire so strong
If You can before I bail, please prove me wrong

Contentment

A good reminder for a Monday morning... at least, I know I needed it.

Allow yourself to complain of nothing, not even of the weather.
Never picture yourself to yourself under any circumstances in which you are not.
Never compare your own lot with that of another.
Never allow yourself to dwell on the wish that this or that had been, or were, otherwise than it was, or is. God Almighty loves you better and more wisely than you do yourself.
Never dwell on the morrow. Remember that it is God's, not yours. The heaviest part of sorrow often is to look forward to it. 'The Lord will provide.'
~E. B. Pusey

Unseen Eyes

Random thoughts on a Saturday night on coping with optimism in the face of other people's realities.

Tell me I can still want adventure
That I’ve not outgrown these dreams
How else can I remind myself
This life is more than it seems

It’s okay that they call me crazy
Yeah, I’m used to being the fool
‘Cause what use is freedom when you’re content
To play by your enemy’s rules?

I’d rather hope in what I cannot see
Than be lulled to sleep by this world’s façade
There is still hurt and the lies still cut deep
As long as I walk on this sod,
But I’d rather go out on faith while I can
For it won’t always be this way;
Learning to trust these unseen eyes
That will lead me Home someday

Well no character ever knows the end
And I’m not the one holding this pen
But does that mean my fate is to just sit and wait
Waiting for my part to end?

Oh I could just turn my heart into stone
But I’ve seen what that does to a soul
Maybe it’s worth putting my heart on the line
To learn what it means to be whole

I’d rather hope in what I cannot see
Than be lulled to sleep by this world’s façade
There is still hurt and the lies still cut deep
As long as I walk on this sod,
But I’d rather go out on faith while I can
For it won’t always be this way;
Learning to trust these unseen eyes
That will lead me Home someday

Screen on the Green

As the sun sinks low on the multicolor horizon, a wind moves across the long, green lawn. The breeze is neither cool nor warm, but simply moves the air enough to relieve those who have congregated on their blankets and lawn chairs. They are an exuberant bunch, and even though it is the end of a Monday work day, there seems to be a carefree air this evening. Perhaps the perfection of the weather after a long heat wave has put everyone in a good mood; maybe it’s the fact that there’s not a suit or tie to be seen. Are they excited because tonight’s movie is a favorite of theirs, or simply glad to be relaxing with friend? There are probably a myriad of reasons that these few hundred seem so happy, but it brings an almost down-home small-town feeling to Washington D.C.
It’s a perfect theater, really. The giant screen is set up against the Capitol building, which is shining bright white against the deepening indigo of the early twilight. Inside the Rotunda, the lights are on, but few staffers are working tonight – if any. The sidewalks of the Mall seem particularly sparse, probably because the tourists have gone home after a long day of sight-seeing and believe D.C. gets dangerous at night. Those who do meander up the way are mostly natives, obvious despite their dressed-down attire. The few visitors are obvious too, and they periodically ask a native to take a picture of them with the Smithsonian Castle in the background. The red brick spires seem to reach toward the setting sun. No one is hanging around the museums lining the green; they have been closed for well over an hour. Only a few sparse surveillance police circle those perimeters.
In the west, the breeze has picked up the flags that encircle the Washington Monument. They are small from a distance, but you can still distinguish them waving proudly in the breeze – sentinels protecting a national treasure. The monument seems to point to the sunset, a masterpiece in progress, shifting from peach and yellow to purple and blue, with the wispy gray-white clouds shining though it all. Day is waning, and at last the dying light rests on the verdant treetops across the city, as if to crown them in celebration of another day.
More people have populated the lawn now, meeting up with friends or establishing their own spot on the grass. From time to time, folks pop up from sitting with a cell phone on one ear and their hands in the air. They dance and move until their target notices their location, and then all is well. It’s quite a sight to see. The twenty-something crowd refreshes itself with water, soda, and snacks. Some seem to be professionals at this process, having borne picnic baskets and coolers; others have haphazardly thrown some things together in a grocery bag or two. But regardless of their experience level, all seem to be enjoying themselves, being outside on this fine summer night.
The sighting of the first star in the sky signals the beginning of the movie. Folks take their seats and start hooting their excitement. Festivities begin with an old Loony Tunes episode, propelling viewers back to their childhood memories of Saturday morning cartoons of yesteryear. After the cartoon, a distinct tune starts to play, and half the crowd rushes to its feet and engages in some sort of ceremonial pre-show dance. It’s quite a sight to see, really. Looking around, you can’t help but wonder if that’s Pelosi’s staff assistant jumping up and down and smiling at one of DeLay’s legislative correspondents, who is making an equal fool of themselves nearby. You never know in a town like this, and in this moment, there is freedom in not knowing.
So night falls on the District of Columbia. Most folks call it Washington; some call it as the capitol of the free world. But for a fortunate few, tonight, it is their town, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Of grace, growth, and the piano that was almost mine

Well, my plan was that I was going to post pictures today me sitting at the newest arrival to my house: a beautiful circa-1900 Story & Clark oak upright piano. But unfortunately, it never got here.

Of course, there is a story behind this.

It all started innocently enough last week, with an email. Allis alerted me to the presence of a piano on the free part of Craig’s List. The advertisement basically said, if you can get it out of here, its yours. I’ve wanted a piano so badly, especially since being home and remembering how to improvise, and I thought this could be a great opportunity. Unfortunately, by the time I emailed, someone else had claimed it, but I was next on the list. I thought, oh well, and figured if it was God’s will, the person before me wouldn’t pick it up.

Well, I received an email early Friday morning. The original people didn’t come get it, could I do it this weekend?

I shot into a frenzy, trying to organize a truck and four guys to move the piano sometime on Saturday. Due to the graciousness of my friends, I was able to assemble a group and planned to pick up the piano on Saturday.

Everything seemed to be going well, and I was so excited about getting a piano of my very own, I could hardly believe it. And in the end, I didn’t, really. I hardly slept on Friday night between excitement and knowing something had to go wrong. Sarah dismissed my thoughts the next morning. “You have the guys and the truck – what could possibly go wrong?”

What indeed?

I went out hiking Saturday morning, and got back with just enough time to pick up the furniture dolly from Christina and meet up with Chris, Paul, and Josh. Josh is a friend of Paul’s who was hanging out with him on Saturday and randomly decided he wanted to help me move my piano. I was very glad to have another set of hands in the process and thought it especially kind of someone who didn’t know me at all.

We headed out to Oakton, just shy of a half-hour drive from my townhouse. After some uncertainty, we found the house and entered in to find the piano. According to the owner, it hadn’t been played since her son left the house – apparently some decades ago. She insisted I sit down and play. The keys were smooth and resilient under my fingers – in beautiful shape for a century-old piano. The strings were in good shape. It wasn’t even that out of tune. It was big, but it was gorgeous, and I was enthralled.

Until we tried to move it.

The last estimate put the weight of the solid-oak piece around 1000 pounds. Why they would make a 1000 pound piano back at the turn-of-the-century when I’m sure it was a lot harder to move things, I do not know. The point was, the most the piano could be lifted off the ground was about 3 inches – enough to get on the dolly, but a far cry from getting it on the truck – or off, for that matter.

We conferred, we thought, we pondered and schemed for an hour. (Meanwhile, I am making Paul and Josh late for a party they’re going to, but they are insisting that we’re going to figure this out.) We call the local UHauls; all their trailers and ramps are rented. The piano owner is getting nervous and worried about cooking dinner. The end of the matter was simply this: I needed professional help. (Most of us knew that already, but I’m speaking in relation to the piano…)

I received information from the lady about some piano movers from who she got quotes. So I’m looking at a couple hundred dollars to get this monolith moved to my place. But considering the quality and condition of the piano, and the backs of my faithful volunteers, I figured, it’s worth it.

I came back slightly defeated, but optimistic that it would still get done. I scoped out the area around my complex to see the best entrance for the movers to bring the instrument. There aren’t a whole lot of options save stairs – and quite a few of them. Considering the bulkiness of the piano, I became increasingly concerned. Was this feasible, even for professionals? I called and reserved a moving time anyway. I wanted the piano.

But the breaking point came earlier today, courtesy of Felicity’s architectural insight. For those of you who have not been to my place, you should know that it IS nice, but it is an older complex, and our two stories are over a one-floor apartment. Felicity brought up the point that a piano that was unable to be moved by four guys and a furniture dolly may after some time (or not that long at all) very well stress the floor and make it give way. To be honest, I’d thought of it before; I just didn’t dwell on it because I wanted it to work. I went down to the rental office to ask, and they weren’t sure but said that maintenance would need to know the weight, etc.

Walking back from the office, I put the pieces together. A couple hundred dollars to move the piano, plus a tuning. When I move eventually, it would pose a similar hassle – even if I was giving it away, like these folks were. And if it DID fall through the floor… well… that would be a mess, to put it lightly. It wasn’t going to work.

I’m a bit sad. I wanted a piano, and this was a striking instrument and a wonderful opportunity. I dreamed of writing music again, of brushing up on my sight reading and playing carols at Christmastime. But it was not meant to be.

I’m sort of glad all this happened, though, even if it is a hope deferred. Because I did learn an important lesson, standing outside the house in Oakton and listening to Josh – someone I don’t even know – talking about how this was an opportunity to accept grace. It may sound a bit corny in the retelling, but it meant a lot at the time. Especially considering that I’d dragged these poor guys out here and made some late for their evening plans. But in the end, they assured me it was not for nothing. At least I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering, “I wonder if I could have gotten that piano somehow…” I am blessed to know that there were people who cared enough to be there in the first place. And it was an opportunity to accept grace, which is an essential part of leaning to give it. I trust that this, too, happened for a reason in the scheme of eternity that I may never understand, but it is well.

And though I think Josh thought I was freaking out, if I may say so myself, I was able to handle myself decently well. I was disappointed, but I didn’t get worked up and emotional like I usually do in such a situation. Maybe I am growing up and turning into an adult after all. Maybe this is part of the strength we’re supposed to find “day by day and with each passing moment.” Even for something as silly as wanting a piano. But it is well.

Two-Hour Romance

This is a ponderation several weeks in the making. I think the primary catalyst was my introduction to “While You Were Sleeping.” It’s a very cute movie, and for some reason I’d missed it until now. Everyone just assumed I had seen it, and perhaps rightfully so. According to close friends and even casual readers of this blog, my entire persona apparently screams, “Hi, I’ve seen every romantic comedy in the world and except my life to follow those exact parameters!” Au contraire. But I digress too soon.
The second reason I was thinking about this was because of a situation between two friends of mine. They have both suffered, and continue to suffer, a great deal for one another. Why? Because they love each other. Because they are each other’s match, soul mate, kindred spirit, however you want to put it. But they have chosen to love each other, and as decent human beings, they have fought for each other when the necessity arose. Oh, it’s not been a fairy tale romance, by the world’s standards – and even if it was, they’ve not reached “ever after” yet – yet I respect their love more than any other I have seen among my peers.
As an aside, why do we use that phrase “fairy tale romance” anyway? Maybe I read folks wrong, but when people use that phrase, they seem to mean that everything was perfect for the couple prancing down the primrose path of love, straight to the altar, the white picket fence, and the 2.5 kids. When did we forget that in fairy tales, there are dragons and dangers? That rescues needed to be undertaken and executed? That there were good guys and bad guys, and all of that is what made the story in the first place?
So it is in that sense that they have had a fairy tale romance, to the degree that it made me think, “Wow. I’ll have to write their story some day.” What better tribute, I thought, to lives well-lived than a story that reflected their hardships and victories? Even better, a screenplay – a movie, to share it with the world.
But then I stopped myself. Not because of privacy concerns, or because I thought they’d be embarrassed. Instead, I realized that condensing their story into a two-hour time slot was impossible. I would defy any writer of any ability to do an adequate, much less outstanding, job of capturing this romance for public consumption. They don’t fit into the romantic comedy mold. There have been times of silence and action in turn, punctuated by moments of utter joy and deepest sorrow. But when you condense those years into two hours, you lose some of the meaning and richness and texture of it. You’d lose a lot, actually.
And that is the reason why romantic movies are unrealistic. It’s not unrealistic because someone gets swept off their feet or their dreams come true or someone realizes what is most important in life. I would venture to say that the above happens every day… but it is after a long process of working up to that point. It almost never happens spontaneously or without cause. There was a circumstance, a decision, something that drove them to that realization. The background of that could have taken weeks. Months. Years.
Case and point: “While You Were Sleeping.” If you’ve seen it, you will hopefully understand what I’m talking about here. At the beginning, when Lucy is observing the daily heart throb, it makes you wonder how long she watched him before the day of their fateful meeting (if you could call it that). How many days or months did she live in her dream world? How many times did she talk herself out of this adolescent crush… and then succumb to it again? How many times had she convinced herself that, no, really, today was the day she would talk to him? We don’t know; we’re never told, and it passes in an instant before everything changes.
Conversely, at the end of the movie, we see Lucy again in her booth, after the wedding fiasco and walking away from the trail of well-meaning deception she left behind. We see no evidence that she has had any hope that Jack with come after her. All we know is that they knew each other for two weeks, and bam, she’s back and life is normal and boring again. She’s just going through her routine, and marinating about how close she was to having everything she wanted.
We have no clue how long it took Jack to get his act together. Yeah, it could’ve been the next day. But it probably wasn’t. Was it the next week, the next month? A half-year later?
The point is, real life is what happens between the cuts of a movie. In reality, we can’t gloss over the miserable and lonely times with a montage of him looking lonely and her looking lonely as sappy music swells in the background. My friends can’t fast forward to the part where everything does turn out alright. No one can. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen; it means it’s not here yet. In our instant-gratification culture, we surround ourselves with notions that something’s wrong if everything doesn’t work out at this instant or that it still hasn’t worked out after all this time. It is not so. The times “off-camera” are when we are called to work out our salvation by trusting God when nothing is certain. We are naturally inclined to cry out to God in distress, and when we are close enough to God, I believe we are equally liable to recognize His goodness in times of joy or success. It’s the indefinite, lackluster, in-between times that seem darkest because we don’t see God as having anything to do with it. But he does. Not just with love stories, but with life stories. That’s why we’re not just raptured up to Heaven when we believe. God has things to work out yet, in and through us.
And this is the fun part: God is a better storyteller than any human writer. Unlike Hollywood producers, He does care about the in-between times when no one else is watching. He is concerned not just with the end, but the means. And He’ll do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes, to get His kids where they need to be.
I’m preaching to myself as much as anyone else, but to those who are in those less-than-glamorous part of your story, there is reason and purpose to this. The months will end, the years will pass, and someday you will look back and wonder at what was accomplished in your own heart and life in this time when you thought nothing important was going on.
After all… would you really want to settle for a pre-packaged, predictable, television-rerun, two-hour romance?

He Will Carry Me

by Mark Schultz

I've found myself struggling for words lately, but this song came to mind as I was getting ready to leave work. I think these lyrics say it all. There's pain, there's acknowledgement of the hope to come, but in the meantime… He will carry me.

I call, You hear me, I’ve lost it all
And it’s more than I can bear, I feel so empty;
You’re strong, I’m weary
I’m holdin’ on, but I feel like givin’ in
But still, You’re with me

And even though I’m walkin’ through
The valley of the shadow
I will hold tight to the hand of Him
Whose love will comfort me;
And when all hope is gone
And I’ve been wounded in the battle
He is all the strength that I will ever need
He will carry me

I know I’m broken
But You alone can mend this heart of mine
You’re always with me
And even though I feel so lonely,
Like I’ve never been before
You never said it would be easy
But You said you’d see me through the storm

And even though I’m walkin’ through
The valley of the shadow
I will hold tight to the hand of Him
Whose love will comfort me;
And when all hope is gone
And I’ve been wounded in the battle
He is all the strength that I will ever need
He will carry me.

Update / A Fear Overcome / Preview

Coming back to a pile of mail from a week of vacation, even in recess, has prevented me from many updates. Plus, we have a very fun houseguest... Felicity soon-to-be Holt, freshly from her two-month mission trip to Africa and surprise engagement in Paris, who cooked us a very fine traditional English Sunday meal today. So we've been having fun, shopping and Old Town Alexandria and the like.
One of the highlights was the girls talking me into doing something I never thought I'd do... especially considering my fear of needles and pain... but after months of pressure and a handmade graduation gift from a friend, I finally got my ears pierced! No one's worse for the wear, except for the nail marks on Sarah's hands. :-P What else are friends for, than to hold your hands in times of dexterity like that? Good times.
In spite of my online absence, I have had a lot of thoughts going through my mind... upcoming posts include a diatribe on romantic movies, thoughts on autumn (even though Kelly already stole THAT idea... :-P), and reasons why legislative recess is one of the best ideas in the world. Stay tuned…

How I Spent My Summer Vacation, Part II

Well, on the Sunday plane ride, I’d written a more complete tail regarding the remainder of my trip… but the Internet’s been down all week at the townhouse, and while it’s up now, I’ve realized the entry was a little long and probably uninteresting to most… so I’m going in a different direction, though I may come back through and add a little here and there.
So last you heard, I was hanging out with the Sabo brothers on Wednesday night. I didn’t have many plans for Thursday, but was working on finalizing Kelly’s bridal shower invitations. I also took a break to read in the sunshine around midday, and that’s when Christine called. We’ve not seen each other for about a year and a half, embarrassing to say, so we decided to meet at the venerable Jamba Juice down the mesa from my house. (For those of you not from the southwest, that’s like saying “down the small, flat mountain on which I live to the overdeveloped canyon below.”) We enjoyed yummy smoothies, swapped pictures and stories, and of course a lot of laughs. She’s getting married, not for a while, but the plans are definitely in the works. I understood why so many PHCers were getting in a marital state of mind, but when my friends that went to Berkeley start heading that direction… yeah, it is rather interesting. :-D
That evening, my folks and I went up to Escondido to the Hacienda de la Vega, a pretty spiffy Mexican restaurant with terrific outdoor seating and giant margaritas (see pictures below). The building that surrounds the courtyard is something like an old ranchera or mission, with a thatched-roof porch and rustic wood furniture. Really yummy food too. My parents discovered it a couple months ago and we had a terrific time. When we got back to the homestead I introduced them to Phantom of the Opera (the movie version of the musical) which made me 3/3 on the week for positive movie introductions (the others were The Village and Hitch). It still amazes me when I think about it what a riveting story this is, the genius of Gaston Leroux. Pretty amazing to come up with such a mystery/detective/ghost/love story; I wish I had that talent.
I got to see two of my adopted moms on Friday, and that was a blast. They wanted to know every detail of my life in DC, which took about 20 minutes, so we spent the rest of the time talking about everyone else – which was a good thing! It was very fun to be with them. After lunch with them and my Mom, I cruised through my old high school haunt, the inimitable T-Town, to pick up a friend for some quality hang-out time making frappicinos and debate at my house. *wry smile* Yes, debate… if it hadn’t been for Jason’s preparation of me through middle and high school, I don’t think I could have done debate in college. What else are big brothers good for?
Did a traditional Walker dinner of barbequed chicken, which some of your adopted Virginians have had the opportunity to sample on one of my families’ visits. Dad and I played music, worked on a harmony part for Irish Linen. Oh yes, and we watched that movie. (“I just want to remind the American people that they still have two out of three branches of the government working for them, and that ain’t bad…”)
And then there was Saturday… which was one of those days you could tell from the start that you never wanted it to end. We all woke up fairly early, went down to Ocean Beach to walk down the Pacific’s longest pier, saw what the fishermen were pulling in, watched the waves, found a great breakfast spot (also pictured below), perused some of the shops on the main boulevard. It was a very San Diego morning.
We tended to chores in the afternoon, holing up in the house to escape the heat, even though it’s nothing like Virginia right now… but we don’t have air conditioning, so we improvise. We turned on one of the TV movie stations and some good, funny stuff was on. We had a seafood dinner (YAY for seafood!) and cruised down to Sunset Cliffs for the sunset. That’s such a San Diego culture thing, and maybe it’s all up and down the coast – it probably is – but people congregate to watch the sun sink into the ocean. That night it was particularly cool, because there was a fog bank over the horizon, so the sun disappeared into the clouds, reappeared, then went into the ocean. Once it set, its last rays were still hitting the high tops of the giant thunderheads over the desert to the east. It was a terrific sight.
Church and a simple lunch at home were all I had time for before I had to leave for the airport on Sunday. It now seems like the time was so short, but I am thankful to have had the time at all. I am struck by a realization of how blessed I am to have such deep roots... of how God has so clearly and gently lead me… and how His past goodness is an Ebenezer of His faithfulness to come.
Because He is seated on the throne. And nothing on earth will change that.
… and behold, a throne stood in Heaven, with One seated on the throne… Revelation 4:2

Pictures from Home!

Since our Internet is temporarily down in the townhouse and I couldn't wait to post SOMETHING from my trip, here are some pictures! I wrote up a long blog entry on the plane but I think it was mostly boring... and pictures are worth a thousand words anyway, right? *grin* I'm also allowed to post these now because Ashley is IN California at present and can't be made jealous by said pictures. The ones of me and my folks are from a fun Mexican restaurant in Escondido, and the last picture is the view from the breakfast place we found after wandering down Ocean Beach on Saturday morning. Enjoy!

How I Spent My Summer Vacation, Part I

As some of you may know, I r-a-n-o-f-t, or rather flew-o-f-t, on Saturday for my hometown of San Diego for a very special birthday surprise! In spite of my missing my initial flight, I managed to make it in plenty of time to shock my mother who screamed beyond all reckoning to see me in my room O:-) That was very fun. Dad and I had her hook, line, and sinker!
This is my first vacation in years, literally, because for once I’m not doing DRW, reading anything school related, or looking for a job 2,000 miles away. I am actually here to relax and spend time with my family. It’s a little late at night (even on west coast time!) to give too many details, but wanted to give y’all an update on how I am spending my summer vacation.
Saturday – first stop: fish taco with Dad. Surprised Mom at home, enjoyed barbequed steak dinner on back porch with family. Remembered what eucalyptus smells like. Overjoyed to find that my cat remembered me.
Sunday – church, and they didn’t even bash Calvinism for a change! Lunch at favorite salad buffet restaurant. Leisurely evening, watched Hitch with family until I got a VERY special call from my VERY special big sister who is now planning a VERY special occasion *huge grin* - CONGRATS, BETH!!!!
Monday – errands, sent off the Hanna’s baby blanket, accomplished some shopping for Kelly *wry grin*, and resigned to the fact that I can’t get away from political involvement. Mom and I went to a City Council meeting to protest something that ended up being taken off the docket. It was the first time I’d ever been to San Diego City Hall, and I’m not even a resident anymore. Go figure. San Diego is on its third or fourth mayor in like two weeks. The primary election for that position was held Tuesday.
Tuesday – Mom’s birthday. Broke 72-hour Starbucks fast, a little bit of shopping in the morning, another fish taco. Purchased three movies I’ve been meaning to get for a while (The Village, Phantom of the Opera and National Treasure… how’s that for variety?). Went to Pacific Beach for dinner at fun new place. The ocean looks very pretty. Lots of Mom’s favorite dessert – Baskin Robbins’ Chocolate Chip ice cream with fudge – for dessert.
Wednesday – washed both cars and did yard work, resulting in serious lobster back from the early morning sunshine. Here’s hoping it tans. Worked on Kelly’s shower invitations and finished addressing the envelopes. Saw boss on CSPAN (I finally broke down and watched CSPAN), but we lost the CAFTA vote. Visited David and Mike, two brothers and dear friends from high school, for three hours this evening to catch up and talk about printers (they’re both computer engineers now) and politics (duh!). The two went to Israel with their family last month and I received a very special present from Mike: a rock from the Mount of Olives that he picked up just for me! He said he thought of me and how much I’d like to be there and thought he’d bring back a piece of history for me. Quite special.
That’s all for now… but will definitely be enjoying the rest of my time in paradise!!

It's Friday......

And I have two words for you:

Almost perfect.

See you on the other side.

A savored moment

Have you ever woken up and just had this feeling that today was one of those days that had the potential to change your life forever?

Today was one of those days. I woke up refreshed and the first thing I did was reach for my Bible, curl up with the Word and read myself to full awakeness in the morning light. I went downstairs and made smoothies. I got ready in a fun outfit that was almost completely borrowed – Allis’ brick red shirt and a fun, flared black skirt from Ashley’s collection. I put my hair up and was actually ready for my day before getting in the car. That was very unusual.

Even though it is middle-late July and it is humid and hot, the morning was particularly bright and clear, almost like spring again. Instead of the usual gray-brown haze over everything, the sky was perfect blue, the flowers in the House gardens were blazing red and yellow. The tall, dark, purple plants seemed as if they had exploded in size overnight and seemed at least half my height. It is warm with the slightest breath of breeze, and everything growing around seems wild, untamed, and clear. Breathtaking.

It was another one of those days where everything seemed to go right. I hesitate to say it, but by God’s grace I’ve been having a lot of those lately. Though I believe that probably has more to do with my perspective than my circumstances. But the Metros I need seem to be there always right when I need them. The elevator comes to the 4^th floor right when I need it – which NEVER happens – that’s usually a battle in and of itself. And again a clear blessing of God, even though I should have lost a week of writing with all the correction debacle earlier this month, I seem to be a week… ahead. I’ve averaged 35 letters a day this week, and if I keep it up, by Friday there will be no stack. Which is very bizarre. I remember when I first took this job, JP told me about how there were times he’d be waiting on the boss to get him the mail and he’d start preempting and then boss would get mad. I could not conceive of a circumstance under which I could possibly not have a stack. When I first got to the job, I did alright; then I hit a good pace when I was making quotas for myself, I made progress, but just couldn’t get ahead. I kept thinking about coming in on the weekends, but never ended up doing it because I felt like I needed rest so badly. And God has blessed me every time. It’s amazing to think that I am within striking distance. I feel like God is enabling me to do my job well. It’s not explainable any other way.

I wrote 40 letters today, actually, along with taking a meeting and running in between committee rooms. Boss had two simultaneous mark-ups. It was insanity, but I was able to get my stuff done and help others, too. Dare I say that at this moment, vocationally, I feel like I belong?

Then it was Bible study, which was wonderful. It was a charming evening, just nice enough to walk around comfortably, with an almost-fall cool in the air. Still warm, but not overbearing. The sky had turned a bluish-purple. A single bright planet hung over the Capitol skyline as we wandered the brick sidewalks at twilight. I felt like I was floating.

Though it may last only a moment, doesn’t God give us this for a reason? A small taste of what Heaven might possibly be like? The peace, the hope, the expectation of what God will do? It’s so rich and free and perfect and real, you can almost taste it. But one cannot feast on the moment; you have to savor it, to remember, for it may well be your Ebenezer for the dry times that will come.

There will be good times, too. And it just makes me wonder if, someday, I will be able to look back on a day like this and see it at a pivotal moment. Not that I know that today changed my life.

But you never know.

Life is not the amount of breaths you take.
It’s the moments that take your breath away.

Senate side

There are a lot of things I could say about the Senate side. I’m not over there very much, but I went today. It was actually nice because it was the first time I went directly there and directly back, no wrong turns, thanks to Loddy’s good directions. The Senate side is very pretty; their first floor is all nicely tiled. Apparently when your terms are four years longer and you don’t have to campaign as much, you have a lot more time to worry about the ambiance. But anyway, in general, I noticed today that the people over there are older and more stuffy-looking. Everything seems so insulated. On the whole, it’s rather boring and I like the House side better.

All that notwithstanding, I have to give a special shoutout to a friend and savior of my palm pilot on the Senate side, whose tireless efforts manning the… uh… phones of the Senate Select Committee on Aging is truly changing America, one Medicare patient at a time. Seriously, the poor guy is so bored that he actually keeps up on my blog. It is fun to know I have a reading devotee over on the other side of the Hill. And he’s good with technology… but not so good with the matchmaking, I must say ;) But that’s okay. So here’s to all the cool Senate side people – Paul, Carley, and I guess we’ll say Tucker’s cool for my purposes here.

So glad it's the weekend. More later.

Christmas in July

Before you read this, just take a moment. Sit back, relax, and take a deep breath and just think of one word.
Noel.
Silly, you say? Try it again, seriously. Just breathe, close your eyes, forget whatever is troubling you for just a moment.
Noel.
How can you think of that word and not feel at peace?
~~~

It had been a long week, too long, and it wasn’t even over yet. Staring at a computer screen seemed to lull her entire being into a state of constant acceptance: no matter what happens, just live, just function, that’s all that matters. Get the job done. It wasn’t a bad mantra; it was a downright good thing to use one’s talents in such a way.
But does there come a time when even that is not enough? She thought glumly, fidgeting with the apple core that was the only surviving remnant of her lunch. This is almost like Groundhog Day or something. Every morning, wake up. Get in the car. Get on the Metro. Write letters. I’m not complaining, but can I still be doing this when I’m 30?
She allowed herself to be carried away a while by the soft music she played over her computer. It was some synthesized Celtic music, a cheap CD from some mass-marketed store, but if she couldn’t be on a moor of heather or surveying verdant hills in Scotland at the moment, this would have to do. Then a sound interrupted her short mental vacation, a near-pleasant ring of two notes that let her know an email had just arrived. She opened her eyes into the giant, all-encompassing eye of the computer once more.
Expecting something work related – “NASPER briefing tomorrow,” “Fix the lower margin of the following 10 letters” – she was surprised to read a single statement from a friend.
“Thursday is the day before Friday and God is watching over you.”
All self-evident truths. It was Thursday. Tomorrow was Friday. And whether her attitude reflected it or not, the Almighty Creator of the universe was watching over her. So why did the statement seem so refleshingly out of place?
Because it’s simple, she thought to herself. It’s not complex, it’s not a formula. It just is.
What did it mean for God to be watching over her? God watched over everything, but even that seemed a little distant and cold. But then a light air of the music that played over her computer’s small speakers caught her ear and heart. They reminded her of a song that was usual to think of in the middle of July, when it was over 90 degrees and over 90 percent humidity.
Noel, noel, noel, noel, born is the King of Israel!
Slightly annoyed at the idea that she’d have a Christmas song stuck in her head for the rest of the day, she shifted uncomfortably and resolved not to him the tune aloud. She paused then, thoughtfully, and wondered.
Why is it that we think of Christmas as a time of peace? Why can’t we have that the whole year, like we always say we will?
Then the words flowed from a wellspring she did not understand.

The first Noel the angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay,
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winter’s night that was so deep…

So there the shepherds were, minding their own business, tending to their job – or however many hundred there were of them. You can almost see them settling in after a long day of walking, seeking, finding, bearing loads, shearing, perhaps. They’re reclining on a hillside and trying to find a comfortable place to lay. And then, suddenly, their ordinary life is turned upside down. And why?
Because God wanted it to.

They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the east beyond them far,
And to the earth it gave great light,
And so it continued both day and night…

How many hundreds of thousands of people saw that star? Did they marvel at its brightness in the midnight sky? How phenomenal to think that they would be there, for such a time as this, to witness such an extraordinary event!
… or were they so busy with their own lives that they didn’t bother to look Heavenward, and completely missed it as a consequence?
She finally smiled. Maybe that’s what it was for God to be watching over her. She just had to look up to realize that’s what He was doing… and realize the stars would come in due time.
So in her heart, she sang.

Then let us all with one accord
Sing praises to our heavenly Lord;
That hath made heaven and earth of naught,
And with his blood mankind hath bought!

Noel, noel, noel, noel; born is the King of Israel!

A few moments more

I had to leave off part of yesterday in my blog, because I hadn’t lived it yet. But it’s worth telling – at least telling what I can. We had a wonderful service at church, actually discussing some of the things the girls and I had been talking about earlier in the day. It was cool for that to be reinforced, and just to sing. We had a great set of hymns, all about God’s love – “O the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus” being one. It was terrific. Post-church was interesting. After a bit of socializing at church, we wandered off to Starbucks and must have been sounding like the girls we are as we meandered through the townhouses in southeast, between church and our coffee place. As we passed a gentleman pruning his bushes – bright green and standing out against the bright red brick house with red shutters – he smiled a knowing smile and simply offered a word of advice.

“Let him know how you feel,” he said. “Give him a chance.”

We all giggled. If you ask me in five years, I might tell you why.

The dimming light cast shades of pastel pink and blue over the Capitol dome. The coming night air was perfect, San Diego in quality – that being, of course, the highest. We eventually returned to the car.

As we drove over the bridge, across the Potomac, the sky turned a hundred shades of purple. The Rosslyn skyline was framed by a colorful sky above and a reflective river of light below. It was perfect. The wind tossed my hair about, plucking it slowly out of the barrette that held it up and back. Whether my eyes were open or closed, the world seemed the same.

Maybe that is what rest is.

I had a good, long talk with my Mom before bed. It didn’t take me long to slip into sleep. I don’t remember many details, but I do have a distinct recollection of dancing in my dreams. I don’t know if it was with someone, or who that someone was if that’s indeed what I was doing, but I remember it felt like freedom. I wanted to stay.

But instead, I woke up refreshed, and three minutes before my alarm clock to boot. I curled up with the Word and really prayed for the first time in ages. It was wonderful. God blessed me with a wonderful weekend – and even a wonderful Monday. I could do this thing for a while…

Wishing

A perfect one-thirty-first of July

Today was what I had in mind when I first moved with my girls to Alexandria. Of course, I’d pictured us hosting parties and having people over all the time, too, but it seems we’ve been going non-stop for months now. Between weddings and holidays and plans made, we’ve had little time to stop, explore, exist for a while. Usually it’s just the three of us on weeknights, but by the time we get home, we’re all so exhausted the agenda is generally relegated to food, movie/reading, and bed. We got a sabbatical this weekend and enjoyed it immensely.

The day was bright and clear, not the usual mid-July Virginia heat. It was around 90, but with little humidity and a light breeze, it was perfect for walking. We actually got up and ready in time for core seminars this morning. It was great because we all got ready and then looked at each other. Our color scheme matched perfectly. I had found an Ann Taylor dress Ash left in my closet, a light summery number that I fit into; Sarah wore a white top and blue skirt, the same hue of which I had in my dress; and Allis happened to borrow one of Sarah’s summer dresses that had the same blue-green theme. So not only were we up and at’em, we were cute too J And since we got to church at 9:30, we had a full morning of teaching, which was very refreshing. There was also a baptism, which is always fun and a cause of reflection and rejoicing.

After church we changed shoes, put on hats and sunglasses, and meandered over to Starbucks, as usual. Coffee and sandwiches all around. But we didn’t linger there as long as we usually do. Instead, we went over to Bartholdi Park, right next to my office actually, which is part of the National Botanical Gardens. It’s in perfect bloom right now, but unfortunately, the 130 year old fountain featured therein is out of commission, much to Allis’ chagrin. But we were there a good while; I tried to get some color on my legs, Allis took off with her camera and Sarah vegged. We all reunited eventually and talked about God’s sovereignty and how it relates to our lives, and the difficulty between knowing something in theory versus the living of it practically. We then decided to try out the parks behind the House office buildings to see if their fountains were on so we could cool off our feet. Sadly, our journey was in vain, for both fountains were also out of commission. But we observed other people there, and all the police in the vicinity, as that part of town is mostly staffers and police, and most of the staffers had enough sense to not be working on a day such as this.

I talked my girls into going to a park I knew on the Senate side, one I went to a lot when I lived at Heritage two years ago. We walked past the Library of Congress, the Supreme Court. Came to the park and found that for some reason, it was also participating in the “say no to actually using the fountains” day that is apparently going on in D.C. By that time it was very warm and we walked a few extra blocks to Union Station. It was blessed cool and offered smoothies, which were much needed and appreciated by our weary trio. We took our drinks up to the main hall, that majestic marble-rich floor bustling with activity. We people-watched and relished being in a part of town where we, as adopted “natives,” obviously stuck out. The place was packed with tourists and it felt good for once to stick out like a sore thumb.

Next we stopped by a park we used to go to after church to study – I forget its name, but there is a statue – big surprise, I know, it is D.C. after all – of a Revolutionary War commander whose name was Nathanael something and he’s riding his horse in his tripoint. Sarah went to one bench to talk to Peter on the phone and Allis and I stated under the shade of a huge oak tree and talked about all manner of random things.

We decided it would be good to go home to relax a bit and change before evening church, so we headed toward the car. We made a nearly perfect circle around the northeast corner of the city over the course of our afternoon. It was lovely to come back to a nicely air conditioned house and wash our feet, rest a while. I crashed on my bed and listened to a piano instrumental CD and lay in that happy state between consciousness and rest, where you are alert enough to know you’re resting but far gone enough to be rousted if an unexpected noise is heard.

So now we’re about to head out to evening church. After that, I’m not really sure what we’ll do. We need to go grocery shopping, but part of me wants to meet up with the group from church that goes to IHOP after the service. We’ll see.

At any rate this has been a perfect one-thirty-first of July, with two of my best friends, talking about God and relationships and walking around under a Virginia blue sky with verdant trees striking up against the white wisps of cloud that raced every now and then. I know I won’t have this forever, but I get to right now. And that is a pretty amazing thing. God has richly blessed me beyond what I ever could have asked or imagined, and I’m crazy when I let myself think He won’t be faithful.

Expectancy

More than anything else, my living room feels more like a hospital waiting room right now. Don’t know if it’s more like a maternity ward or a geriatric wing. By God’s grace I’ve not been in either in my lifetime, not yet. But I’m very fretful for my dear roommate, whom I’ve not heard from in over two hours, even though she’s just upstairs in her room. She’s having a conversation she’s not been looking forward to and I know it will be hard on her. It seems unfair that such a good person should have to suffer so. Just for being in love.

But fairness isn’t the promise, is it? Perseverance is.

Much harder to measure that.

What else do we wait for? Acceptance letters to college. Job offers. Even more excruciating, calls for job interviews. Airplanes. Security clearances. (Ask Sarah about that one some time if you have an hour to spare… kidding…) We wait for a lot of things. But how much time do I spend waiting on the Lord? Or is it not about a beginning and end, set times and seasons, but an ongoing process of waiting for eternity?

There is the school that says eternity has already begun. Which is true. If Christ doesn’t return in our lifetime, we will experience death, albeit for a moment, but our eternal life is already secure. Yet it’s going to be so completely different and outside our realm of ability to ask or imagine or think, how can we even count these days as credit toward eternity? It seems to bolster the credit of these days, or diminish those of Heaven. Neither option seems wise. So do we wait for eternity – is that what it means to wait on the Lord?

It’s raining tonight. We’ve got a classic hurricane-remnants-and-Virginia-summer-humidity thing going on at the moment. All in all, it’s quiet. Allis is resting on the plaid chair. (For those of you who haven’t seen it and are taking mental pictures, don’t worry, it’s a tasteful plaid.) Enya is playing on our sound system. The fridge is humming. And if you listen closely you can hear big rain drops – I think it’s between fronts at the moment, so it’s only the drops that have collected on the trees and slowly gathered, tricking down branches and leaves, to finally make a final flight to rest on the earth a while. Till God in His providence causes them to rise again.

If raindrops could think, I wonder if they, too, would anticipate the time they will return to the heavens.

See You Forever

Six years ago today – it’s hard to believe it was that long ago – I was at a camp in the Sierra Nevadas, nestled behind a hillside and in the midst of giant granite boulders, towering trees, the scent of pine and dust heavy on the hot summer air. I was there with eleven of my peers and a handful of adults, taking a month to figure out more of who I was, but most importantly, who God is. We talked a lot about Heaven at the Caleb Project. I am still excited about the fact that someday, we’ll all be together again forever, especially since we’ve lost touch with each other, for the most part. I know April is married; I hear Daniel and Ali are, too. (But not to each other, for the record!) I know where Jason and Erin are simply based on the fact that they predate Caleb in my life. Alicia is probably leading worship somewhere, but I’ve not heard from her in ages. And the rest… I have no idea. But somehow I know we’re all thinking about each other today.
Why? Because on this day six years ago, God called Home one of our counselors, one of His saints. He was a mountain biker and loved Hume Lake, but not nearly as much as he loved his fiancée, Jenny. And he was fond of the phrase “see you forever,” which we adopted as our Caleb group’s phrase after his death. So when I heard this Vertical Horizon song this week, it truly struck me, as I’d never really listened to the words before. It was as if it was written for the mourners of this tragedy. I thought I would post part of the lyrics for all my fellow Calebites, especially for Jenny, in memory of TJ, and above all, in celebration of God’s sovereignty in this world.
SYF.

Call me close once again,
Call me teacher, call me friend;
Just like the first time…
I don't know if you hear me there,
But it's dark, so no one cares;

But I will hear you forever, forever,
I will hear you forever, forever…

I wanted you to be everything to me,
Now I've got to learn to carry on
I know I cannot hide this emptiness inside
But nothing is the same since you've gone…

Send me letters from above
Send me strength, send me love;
Sing me songs that echo in my head and in my heart
That's where you are…

I don't know if you see me,
But I can tell you your face is clear

And I will see you forever, forever,
I will see you forever, forever…

July 4

Last July 4, I celebrated independence in a whole new way. I dropped by Dad off at Portland airport for his flight home and sobbed as I drove back to the hotel where I was staying. That was the start of my four month exile in Oregon. It was the first time I moved to a whole new place without any sort of a stable context. No family. No school. I was sort of propelled into a new world with only my God and my Acura. I learned so much, I lost so much and gained so much. I’m so glad I took that risk, I needed to break away for that time. I had to leave if I was to ever come back, and the task is now complete.

The year before that, part of my Independence Day celebration was going to Antietam with Christy. Her last name was Ross back then, and we had a very fun (but overwhelmingly HOT) day overlooking the battlefield, listening to a marvelous concert and seeing wonderful fireworks. That seems like forever ago. Both Christy and I bought awesome hats; she got a floppy hat and I got a straw hat. We took some very blackmail-caliber pictures. And Christy had this cool little hand-held battery-powered fan, like the ones we used to use in elementary school in San Diego when we didn’t have air conditioning in the summer. It was a very happy day, a sweet memory, particularly special because Tee’s now two thousand miles away.

That was also the year I first saw the fireworks in Washington. I was living at the apartments next to Heritage, and we got to watch the festivities from the newly refurbished Heritage roof. That was incredibly fun. And I surprised all my intern friends because they’d been under the impression that I was this withdrawn conservative person that never did anything fun. That night, I showed them I could dance. That was cool.

The year before that was the first year I went to Antietam. It was the summer I worked camps at school, serving with Faith and Cami in the kitchen. We had the week of the 4^th off, which was a welcome respite in the middle of eight weeks of screaming teenage homeschoolers. Which is downright terrifying, for the record. So a group trekked to Antietam. We also went up to the Wolshlegel’s to swim, look at Pennsylvania cornfields, and see some fireworks in College Park. The only thing we brought to eat was hot dogs. And I cannot stand hot dogs. Never have, and never will. I only had one bite and couldn’t eat anything else and subsequently starved. So that was memorable too, along with shucking corn. Lots and lots of corn. That was The Summer, and will always be capitalized as such to denote its importance. It was a transformation, one of many.

The year before that… wow… was the summer I graduated high school. I’m fairly certain I spent that July 4 with my parents at the Del Mar Fair. Well, now it’s the San Diego County Fair – so politically correct and boring if you ask me. Then again, it’s still Jack Murphy Stadium and the Padres just went to the World Series. I’m out of the San Diego loop and have been for some time.

It’s amazing to think what can happen in a year. In 2004, I didn’t know exactly what to expect of this 4^th of July. This year, I know not to expect anything of next year. There’s a joy in learning to expect the unexpected, a release and resolve to it. And I am glad.

Enjoy your freedom? Thank a Frenchman.

It’s almost July 4, the celebration of America’s declaration of independence from the British Empire, when we honor our forebears who had a vision of a more perfect union and were willing to lay down their lives for that cause. It’s a day of fireworks, ribs, corn on the cob, and red, white, and blue. And I’m not just talking about the Star Spangled Banner, but of another flag that shares our national colors: the barred banner of France.
Now, France and America haven’t been on the best terms lately, and for good reason. French leadership hasn’t been on Bush’s wavelength on just about anything, so there’s been some conflict involved. Not to mention the Bill O’Reilly-led boycott of French cheese, French wine, French fries (but not freedom fries!), basically everything French. And that is all well and good. The modern French had it coming.
But some 230 years ago, there was a Frenchman with a much different feeling toward America. By the time he was 20, he had organized a contingent of his countrymen to come to the New World to fight the British and help the colonists secure independence. He contributed hundreds of thousands of dollars (in 1776 money, so adjust that to inflation…) to the cause of the revolution that was not repaid. He knew George Washington personally and served under his command in several pivotal battles. As a Major General, he commanded both French and American troops. Posthumously – and only within the last three years – he became the sixth person in history to become an honorary citizen of the United States. He was an aristocrat, but a warrior; a visionary, but was able to translate his philosophy into practicality; he was a Frenchman, but was more loyal to the overall cause of liberty than anything else. So this July 4, raise a toast of your beverage of choice, from Schmirnoff to sweet tea, to the Marquis de Lafayette. Merci beaucoup, monsieur.