Updates

I updated my books section.

AND I have achieved number 7 on my "ambitions" list (see blog from July). I moved into my own apartment last month. Just me and the dog. It's an east/west facing apartment, so lots of natural sunshine and warmth.

Last weekend I put up my first Christmas tree, lit it with 150 white lights, and placed some random ornaments on it. It's just lovely.

Jake and I go on lots of walks. I'm pretty sure he's been enjoying them more than I have lately. Especially since it's been hovering gracefully between 9 and 20 degrees on most days.

I have been enjoying the snow this year though. Jake walks with his nose to the ground most of the time, so we have to stop from time to time to break the icicles off his chin and whiskers.

Just got my first heating bill. $660. I'm pretty sure it's a mistake.

Grandpops

My sweet Grandpops and I spent a few hours together today. Mimi went to her duplicate bridge group, and I was there to make lunch for Grandpops and supervise his cutting back the roses.

Today was a good day for Grandpops. A strong day mentally and physically. So much so that he spent an entire hour on his knees cutting back rose bushes. I was very proud of him, and it seemed as though he enjoyed the quiet work in the sun.

As his physical body continues to fail, and dementia persists in conquering his mind, each new day rides in on waves of uncertainty. Grandpops knows what it is to take life one day at a time. To basque in the simplest of joys. A good lunch, working with his hands, the warm October sun, and silence.

Beauty

Miss Nadia Rowe, my brand new baby niece!

Experiencing New Things

Here are the non-highlights of the adventure Jill and I took to Rapid City, South Dakota this past weekend.

#1 - Fresh Start Convenience Store, Lusk, Wyoming - The sign on the wall inside the men's restroom read something like this, "If people continue to pee and poop all over this restroom, we are going to have to close it for good and no one will be able to use it any more." I went in to the men's bathroom because Jill was in the women's bathroom. Oddly enough, the strong smell of urine in the men's bathroom didn't keep me from using it. It's too bad I only saw the sign after I was done. Only in Wyoming.

#2 - Lame Johnny Creek - who was Lame Johnny? Was his lameness somehow associated with the creek? Did people really call him that?

#3 - Hill City, South Dakota, while waiting in line at the Alpine Inn for famous steak - an older, heavyset woman clad in a blue and black plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and yellow tinted sunglasses rode by on a 4-wheeler. She had a confident and contented look on her face as her white hair blew haphazard behind her, her small, equally frizzy-haired companion, a white poodle, nestled between her legs. And then her husband rode into the picture as well. Matching 4-wheeler, flannel shirt, white hair, belly, and poodle. As a single person, there are glimpses of married life I see and vow to never become.

#4 - Old Woman Creek - not such a thought-provoking creek as Lame Johnny, except that I found it amusing that there was no water in Old Woman Creek. It was quite dry and shriveled up.

More Books

I heard about this book Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne a couple months ago from my friend Kelly. I bought it today off Amazon and am eager to read it when it comes.

When you shop on Amazon, it automatically generates a "Better Together" section where it pairs the book with another that you, the customer, might buy. Buying the two together offers a discounted rate. (How does Amazon pair these books together?)

I was surprised to find it recommending the book Sex God by Rob Bell. All I know of the book Sex God is what I briefly read while hanging out with friends at Barnes and Noble one night. Yes, I picked up the book. I saw the name and picked it up, despite my cynical nature towards christian books and songs with clever titles like this one. The inside cover offers a manual of sorts on interpretation of male and female misunderstandings. Almost like a "what she really means" and "what he really means" chart with common miscommunications disspelled. I can't quote it here. I can't remember word for word. But what I do remember was it stopping just short of assuming every woman's problem is insecurity. "Guys, all girls are insecure. Understand that and you'll get through your relationship just fine. Tell her she's pretty or rub her back, and all will be well. Oh, and if it isn't insecurity, it might be PMS, so watch out for that too."

This may be (is) totally unfair. Fine, so I added the part about PMS, the book didn't really say that. It seemed like it could have, though, had I read further than the inside cover. I was just surprised and maybe a little disappointed that Amazon recommended the Sex God book. Doesn't Amazon know me better than that? Amazon, I don't know if I can trust you like I used to. What's that? I look pretty today? Thanks. I feel better.

fun blog searches

I did a blog search using the word "christian" and this was somehow the first result that came up. It is entitled "Devil, You Can't Touch This." Interesting theology here. In case you need a little coaxing, I've copied the first paragraph (is this illegal?).

"There is one thing that I like to say to the devil every day. Usually when I wake up, I praise God for allowing me to see another day and shortly thereafter, I like to tell the devil, “I’m gonna mess you up today, devil!”."

http://www.jayadkins.net/archives/131

My own little book club

I'll just get this out there, in case anyone happens to come by this blog. I have learned that I LOVE to read.

There are three types of readers:
Reader A - Reads a lot as a child, reads a lot as a teenager, reads everything assigned in school, reads a lot as an adult. Enjoys reading the paper. Reads during airplane travel. The lifetime reader.
Reader B - Reads a lot as a child, reads less as a teenager, reads Cliff notes to get through school assignments (or doesn't read at all for said assignments), becomes a science or math major in college and thus does not have reading assignments...

I was wrong. I think there are two types of readers (A and B). However, reader B can become one of two types of readers:
Reader Ba - Continues on in life to be a non-reader. Watches the news instead of reading the paper. Sees the movie instead of reading the book. May try to read books, but usually never finishes an entire book from beginning to end. Simply does not find reading a source of enjoyment.
Reader Bb - The convert. Discovers a love for reading at an adult age. May find it a great achievement to finish an entire book. May feel as though it deserves a medal of some kind. Goes on to be a lifetime reader.

Clearly I am reader Bb in my system of reader-types. I find that if I'm supposed to read something, I won't (I used to say "can't", but no one likes a quitter). There is a difference between reading for assignment and reading for enjoyment. Although I may have enjoyed the books I was assigned, I didn't give it a chance. And now that I am free of anyone's assignments I actually wish I had read those assignments. Maybe not The Once and Future King. I digress.

All this to say that I updated my reading lists. And I added a "Recently Read" section. How exciting! I finished reading entire books. Books! Plural! As I read more, I'll let you know how it goes. As Mr. Darcy says of an accomplished woman in Pride and Prejudice, "...she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading." So what if I got that quote from watching the movie.

No Goals for Me

I don't have goals. I have ambitions.

And here is why I make the point to separate the two... goals are just that, goals. There is no less and no more to a goal than the end result. They are flat. Goals are what you achieve for yourself. Ambition is what you become in the process.

Ambition. Whoa, now here is a word with meaning. With thoughts and emotions, with rocks and rivers cut through paths and superheroes saving the day, your feet stuck in the mud yet a crowd of faces still cheering you on.

I don't know why this makes a difference, but the pictures in my mind of these words are drastically different.

So here are some of them... perhaps they'll come to be reality and I'll write about them in my blog.

1. Spend an entire day in prayer

2. My name on Google (on the first page of search results!)

3. Live in a spanish-speaking country for at least 6 months

4. Start a Supper Club

5. Be fluent in Spanish (regardless of whether ambition #3 happens)

6. Learn to make sushi

7. Live alone

8. Help teach an adult how to read

This list is ever-expanding. We'll see how it goes.

7:00 a.m.

Kelly Flats Campground #20

$17 to camp here, but definitely well worth it. There is the constant sound of the river, the way it carefully and intensely overrides all other sounds. I have my own little bank of the river at which to sit, write, eat, read, whatever.

I can look 180 degrees (maybe even 200) around me and not see a soul. That's enough for me today. I have enough imagination to pretend the other 180 degrees don't exist.

My spot is isolated from the road and backs into nothing but trees and brush and the rocky hill I'm sure I'll climb in a bit. A rare spot to find in a campground such as this, and I am thankful for this gift.

I drove up last night after work and without any real plan. I almost turned around nine times. It was 8:30 pm before I hit the canyon walls, my eyes were heavy from a long day's work, and I kept getting flashes of the laundry pile in my closet at home. The voices in my head - countless friends' warnings of going out alone: "It's not safe", "Don't forget the bear mace... you don't have bear mace? You have to have bear mace", etc.

I find at times a seeming contradiction of desires. The "responsible" self - work, laundry, rest, safety, etc. And the "other" that can often carelessly say "do what you want." I wager that the "other" has to be the best thing at times. Also that the "other" does not have to be careless or even irresponsible. It is true to me, though. True to what I care about. If I want to wake up in the mountain sun, I'm going to take every available opportunity to do so. Last night presented itself and clearly I couldn't resist.

A brief note on safety: the lack of it - not a bad thing. A little risk, uncertainty, a fleeting "what the hell am I doing?" never hurt anybody. It's in those moments (or hours or days) that you (I) look beyond your own (my own) sense of self sufficiency and independence and find where true help comes from. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting it's wise to coat your bare skin with fish grease and wander out into bear country to learn a lesson or two about trusting God. I digress.

What kept me following the road up the canyon was this. Right now. Waking to the very early morning sunshine's shimmering reflection on the water. The golden light on the rocks, the trees, my face and knees. Waking to stillness. Waking to the roar of the river, the smell of my wet dog. And getting to use my new stove. And the fact that no matter what it took, or what it risked (not much, really) to get here, I am here.

Nevermind that it isn't perfect solitude or quiet. Nevermind my tent being on a gravel pad or my dog whining at the neighbor's dog or that some ambitious early morning tubers just floated by. An adventure is what you make of it. Or rather, make your own adventure. There are no complexities to it, just a simple mindet to make the most of everything and experience all you can. Like setting up camp and cooking dinner in the mountain darkness, stars innumerable above, then waking up to the revelation of what the light of day brings. Exactly what you had no idea you were looking for.

This is quietude - the musical "shhhh" of water running over rock and my thoughts expressed in written word.

naught, she thought

I find it interesting how plans change. The past couple of weeks seem to be marked with the changing of plans. The unwanted and undesired have been met with surprising gladness, the wanted and thought desired have been met with disappointment and frustration, maybe a few tears.
I think I am being taught that my life is not my own. My time is not my own. My steps are not mine to determine, to calculate, to plan. So I'm trying to figure out where this lesson leaves me. Where to go from here. How a gospel-sharing, Mommy-visiting, physically draining week at work including patient death, my own sickness, a cancelled backpacking trip, a rescheduled camping trip, a woodland creature attack, and a, I guess I'll call it a guy situation... all add up to teaching me something bigger than this weeks' events, bigger than me. I know this week is not for naught.
Perhaps only to bring me here, using the phrase "not for naught" and the simple and strange pleasure that brings.

Thoughts from 36,000 feet

On my flight to Austin, TX a few weekends ago something came to me. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular at the time. I was just reading a book and trying to, with true airplane ettiquite, not touch the man's hairy elbow on the armrest next to me. The thought was this: I am not waiting for my life to come to me.
Let me back up a bit.
For any reader of this blog, the few things I've written have generally centered on some kind of topic of self-discovery or self-exploration. I started this blog because I find myself longing for an understanding of, and balance between, who I am, who I was created to be, and my relationships with people, with God, with the world around me.
I will share the thought again, I am not waiting for my life to come to me. It's present tense, not future. It's not a commitment for the future, not some declaration or resolution. It's already happening. I am simply living. The thought entered my mind suddenly. Not fast and hard like a train, but as simple as a sweet friend telling me something as obvious and true and beautiful as "the sky is blue".
For so long I waited in discontent for my life to come to me, not necessarily always consciously. I could fill in the blank at any given time for what constituted a "full" life... marraige, a place of my own, the perfect job, the perfect place to live, etc. I don't know what happened to change my mindset, nor do I recall when it all began. I just know that on an uncomfortable plane ride it struck me that I haven't been living in that mindset for quite sometime, and moreso that I didn't get myself here, it wasn't out of my will or effort.
This isn't some sort of self-discovery essay where I conclude with a chorus of "life is a highway". My conclusion is that I am alive. That all kinds of tiny particles make up bigger particles that end up making an organ or a flake of skin or a strand of red hair or a weird, pun-loving, Jesus-worshiping person called Jessie. And no, it's not by chance. It's not random. I was created this way. Created to be alive, created to actually live in the fullest meaning of the word, to enjoy living as me. The intricacy, the detail, the purpose put into that demands nothing but a humble, worshipful, joyful heart. Given all that, how can I not just simply trust God for today?
What a perfectly freeing and exciting thing. There is nothing more I could have at this moment that would make this moment more full of life. Life being at times adventurous and fun, at times painful and mournful, responsible and reliable, quiet, thoughtful, boring, or none of the above. I trust that I have all I need and so I just live. I am really enjoying this simple truth.

Thanks, NPR

It's so easy to be absorbed in the tiny scope of the world I know.

There is an Iraqi man who occasionally reports for NPR from his community in Iraq. Over the last few months he has given details on the personal challenges and fears he faces on a daily basis. I first heard him giving the account of his wife birthing their first child, a son, into a culture of hostility. The last report was sometime last week when he described a trip to the community market, where he witnessed 9 small children, playing soccer in a nearby park, killed. Several men drove up and opened fire on the group of children, no life was spared. Hearing the chaos, the families of the children came out of their homes and started firing on each other. The voice of the reporter was so quietly numb. He had fear and sadness in his voice, but not shock, not surprise.
There is also a segment on NPR called "This I Believe". People send in their essays describing, usually rather adamantly, what they believe. I've heard anything from "I believe in baking" to "I believe in kindness" to "I believe that God does not know the future". The latter I heard this past week. The physicist described growing up "religious", blindly believing that God knew everything about him, every step he took, all of his future. But after several years of higher education he began to form his own beliefs, including but not limited to, "Creator is only one mask that God wears" and "When I get life right, I think God is pleasantly surprised". In the end I was led to conclude that the man both thought that God was big enough and powerful enough to create the universe, but that He had no power (or didn't want any part in it) post-creation.
I especially enjoyed the 5-part series following a reporter travelling down the Ganges River in India. The roughly 1500 mile river is sacred to Hindus and supports life for millions of Indians. He reported on the toxins in the river. He reported on the economics of the river. He visited with various people, most memorably (to me) two small girls selling goods in a market along the river. They claimed to be 9 and 10 years old, but the reporter believed them to be half that. Child labor is a punishable offense here. It's a way of life for those two girls, and I'm sure millions of others. I know of at least 50 kids who spent the afternoon eating snacks, hunting for easter eggs, napping, running around their backyards.

I am challenged by NPR. It keeps my eyes open to life outside of the culture of northern Colorado and of my church community. It also keeps me deeply rooted in the truth that God is my only hope. Keeps me so thankful that this huge, scary, cynical world is not all there is.

Jars of Clay is not the gospel on which I stand...

I think I am in a time of discovery. I remember a time at A&M when I journaled about how God was revealing to me who He made me to be. At that time it was a new concept to not only feel passion, but to understand that I was made to be passionate. To not only feel a sense of adventure, but to see in myself an adventurous heart and mind played out in daily thoughts and actions. It was a time of growing up, I think, when I started to see who I am on my own, not who I am according to someone else. It was a pivitol time, especially in my relationship with God, seeing myself through His eyes, knowing that there were no mistakes made in me.
Now I feel like I am there again. Four or five years have passed, a long time when you're young, and I already feel so different. I am largely the same person, obviously, but my heart is different and I am seeing myself and God differently.
I am wondering exactly how God intersects my life. I know it isn't "my" life. I should say now that "He is my life". I guess that's why this blog exists though, to put away the "right" answer and say what is honest in my mind and heart.
There is a Jars of Clay song that says "You are the shelter from the rain, and the rain to wash me away." In John Piper's Desiring God, he talks about with wind, how it can comfort or it can kill. My pastor, Kevin, once told an anecdote about seeing lightning, and how watching this intense lightning storm brought him to a place of humility and worship. I sat in the pew thinking how that same lightning storm could have caused destruction and homelessness and even death to a community (leave it to me to think the worst). My point is, as the Jars of Clay song goes on to say, that God "is all I'm living for". "I need You, I need You, I need You." God is, in fact, not all I'm living for. And on any given day at any given moment I probably don't feel a need to cry out "I need you." But I desire that.
I want to know exactly where God intersects my life. That may be a bad way to put what I mean to say. He made me stubborn and independent and emotional with a passionate heart that longs for adventure (among so many other things). Those things can be bad in this world, they can mean bad things for me, they can lead to plenty of sin. Failing out of school, harsh attitudes, recklessness in relationships and with time, etc. They can also play a role in the greater purpose of who I am and how I can glorify Him by being exactly who I am (and I think taking joy in that as well). I have spent a lot of wasted time comparing myself to other women, thinking "I'm not like them." Happens fairly regularly as I do feel very different sometimes. But I am starting to believe and live the truth that I am made with such purpose. And I really do long to live that purpose out, whatever that means.

The Great I Am

I have noticed in myself that I am anxious about describing myself absolutely. For example, I feel as though I would never say "I am a photographer" just because I like to take pictures. Or "I am a writer" or "I am a painter" because I like to do such things. But why not? Why is there fear in identifying myself in that way? I feel I have to be good at what I am claiming I am. It's like I have to prove myself to others. In order to win the title of "painter" I have to successfully complete a 12-week course, produce 8 pieces of art of different styles, take a test, and have a painting hanging in a coffee shop.
It is easy to describe myself by what I do for a living "I am a vet tech" or by what I believe "I am a christian" or by obvious statements "I am a girl". But I fear that if I claim something someone else doesn't agree with ("her photos suck") I have no right to identify myself that way. And so I don't claim to be something I'm not, even though I am. And no, it doesn't have anything to do with modesty or humility.
Bottomline I find that I care too much. I think I was made with a heart for creativity and exploration. Whether or not someone likes what I write or how I play a song on the guitar or how I paint doesn't make it any less exhilirating to pick up a paint brush, to hear a chord, to let a thought unfold into language. Obviously these things do not define me. But my passion for these and other things make up so much of what and how I think, how I spend my time. And so I am going to stop saying "I like to paint" and simply call myself a "painter". It may be a meaningless distinction to make. Making it, though, is somewhat humbling as it reminds me of how intricately God created me. Would denying His design deny Him altogether?

The Beginning

Explobulary is exploritory vocabulary. A term created a few years ago with the purpose of going deep into the language of the Bible. To explore the character of God by exploring words in the Bible. Used once or a hundred times, relating directly to God's character or not, words I would never hear in America in the 21st century, etc. Mercy. Redemption. Free. Haughty. Disciple. Humility.
I called myself a christian for two years and then at Easter of my freshman year of college heard for the first time the meaning of the word "grace". It blew me away. There was a need for a basic understanding of grace. There also continues to be a deepening understanding of the truth of it. I long for that depth.
I am fascinated by words. How much they can convey and yet, at times, how unfaithful they are to express the depth of feeling. And yet I trust that God's word expresses exactly what it intends too. There is nothing left out, nothing left to the imagination, no "if only you were there, you'd understand", no need for emoticons.