I'm exploring the capital of the Confederacy. The Poe Museum was closed as was Sheba, the Ethiopian restaurant. Alas, it was Monday. But, I happened upon Cap'n Buzzy's, an independent coffee shop. I'm staying with my sister on Tobacco Row in her sweet loft apartment: insanely tall ceiling, huge windows, elevated bedroom, brick wall, wood floors. We went to the Cake concert at the National last night. I had a lamb burger at Gibson's. I didn't sleep well. So, I drank a pot of coffee when I got up at 8:30. I'm quite taken with Shockoe Bottom. It's charming. And, I'm saying that as a person who rolls her eyes when people use "charming" as an euphemism. But, it fits the quirky Federalist houses and churches converted into "lovely condos" and cobblestone streets.
This city is chock full of quirky people. This place is a budding novelist's playground. Damn, her work is done just driving around this place. The bumper stickers, the fashion, the architecture... the trees. This city is not only full of personalities but has a distinct one itself. Perhaps that's the necessary outcome of a gigantic monument of Robert E. Lee on Traveler complete with a round-a-bout. This city is thoroughly Southern. Southerners actually outnumber the carpetbaggers here unlike Charlotte.
I'm ashamed to say that this is the first time I've been to the Commonwealth's capital. I really like it. I think I may be a city dweller at heart. But, just last week, I was thoroughly ensconced in the rural life-- about two miles from an Amish settlement.
I'm dreading, DREADING, starting back to school. I like vacation when I have a paycheck.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
bent woman
Being quiet-- away from home and my normal distractions rather than not busy-- produced some journaling and prayer that I couldn't have reached at my desk at home. In my normal hustle and bustle, sin tends to slink into dusty corners that I overlook. The Sisters' of Mercy mercy and openness provided a gentleness that allowed me to appraise my soul's room, finding many a cobweb of sin: corners cluttered with anger and bitterness and pride. But the webs were woven with nothing abstract. There were memories with words and faces and emotions all stuffed in said corner feeding my sin. Of course, reading my English Grammar book made me realize that there's a lot to my native tongue that I don't know; perhaps it's the same with my crooks and crannies of my soul. How many more areas of my life as basic, intrinsinic and profound do I think I have under control-- just like the nominal? Then, I finished the Eugene Peterson book, Leap Over a Wall, which had a powerful impact on my mind and soul, coupled with I and II Samuel. Some of his observations hit me squarely, leaving me unbalanced. Proust wrote: "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new landscapes, but in having new eyes."
Tonight, one of the sisters gave a talk about the bent woman in Luke who Jesus healed on the Sabbath. Jesus loves. Jesus heals. Jesus confounds. Jesus freed her from eighteen years of staring at the ground physically and metaphorically. The Word touched her and changed her life and her perspective. Yet, some of the religious leaders preferred Jesus to work by their understanding of protocol and worship. Grace is inconvenient and unruly. And, the beauty is... this woman's story is mine. We worship a Holy God known for his steadfast love. It's as Annie Dillard says-- we should wear crash helmets to church. How can I ever believe my faith is anything less than adventure, but I do. I know how to be bent; it's the routine I to which I'm accustomed. But, Jesus breaks routine anyway and anytime he sees fit. That's grace even when I don't recognize it.
Tonight, one of the sisters gave a talk about the bent woman in Luke who Jesus healed on the Sabbath. Jesus loves. Jesus heals. Jesus confounds. Jesus freed her from eighteen years of staring at the ground physically and metaphorically. The Word touched her and changed her life and her perspective. Yet, some of the religious leaders preferred Jesus to work by their understanding of protocol and worship. Grace is inconvenient and unruly. And, the beauty is... this woman's story is mine. We worship a Holy God known for his steadfast love. It's as Annie Dillard says-- we should wear crash helmets to church. How can I ever believe my faith is anything less than adventure, but I do. I know how to be bent; it's the routine I to which I'm accustomed. But, Jesus breaks routine anyway and anytime he sees fit. That's grace even when I don't recognize it.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
potted hands
As I munched on my asparagus, dill new potatoes and garlic herb chicken, I listened to several fascinating conversations. I was sitting next to a hand sculpture who discussed her art, process and comissions. My initial reaction to the conversation was: creepy. Imagine a pair of hands on a table or bookshelf. But, as the discussion developed, I started to think about the differences between male and female hands-- subtle but distinct. Memories of my grandmother's and my dad's hands floated into my head. She chatted about how ever since she started sculpting hands; she'd become aware of how much we use them-- even when we talk. Everybody became more conscious of their hands, but in a good way: using a fork, wiping my mouth, talking.
That was not the only conversation. There were conversations on drumming in Ghana, classical guitar, cooking chicken, compost, Food, Inc., dishwashers, organic, pottery, drawing, painting, Van Gogh, Asberger's, etc. The dinner was delicious and the conversation stimulating. As I sat in the chapel for evening prayer, Irenaeus's "The glory of God is a person fully alive" sprung to mind. The fascinating conversation stemmed from passionate women living life. I was by far the youngest (probably by about 25 years), but I found these women engergizing. Sometimes I dread getting older and lament how I've wasted time, then I come across these house wives, retired teachers, real estate agents that are nothing short of amazing. They took adversity and set backs (cancer, divorce, deaths of loved ones, career loss) as opportunity. After cancer or surgery, some of them started ministries or took Healing Touch. For them, adversity transformed into love and mercy for others instead of bitterness. The only thing they had in common that I could tell was relationship with God. These women's conversation weren't selfish or self-centered. The meal was the communion of saints. This dinner was nourishing and humbling.
The conversations led to self reflection. I'm no potter, no artist, no cook. But, who am I? The thought that popped into my head was studying for 8 hours straight (11am-7pm) this Tuesday. A lot of people couldn't do that. Granted, studying is the antithesis of sexy and seemingly pointless (grammar and classroom management). But, there's always the x factor in our lives: God. I'm nearing the end of Eugene Peterson's exposition of David's Life, Leap Over a Wall, and it's taking root in my mind. Writing about I and II Samuel, he states:
"We're getting a feel for the kind of narrative written here-- an immersion in the human condition with all its glory and hurt, promise and difficulty. But we're never left with mere humanity, mere history. The skill of the narrator keeps us alert to the presence and purposes of God being worked out in this story. We're being trained to read between the lines, for much of this story is implicit. But it's unmistakably there-- David isn't David apart from God. None of us is. Most of what we're reading about in David is God in David....
"The David story is a major means for providing us a narrative context for understanding our lives, in all their complexities as God-shaped.... ...Christians have characteristically lived themselves into the story of David.
As we do that, one of the things we realize is that the Christian life develops organically. It grows from a seed that's planted in the actual soil of our muscles and brain cells, our emotions and moods, our genetic code and work schedule, the North American weather and our family history....
"This is why the David story continues to prove so useful: it doesn't show us how we should live but how we do live" (pp. 137-9).
So reading the story of David this month, including the Psalms, with Peterson as my guide has been therapeutic. It's turned some of my angst into hope and faith... or at least converted the energy. I get frustrated with how utterly puny my life is. Last week, a friend and I started crying because we were laughing so hard from talking about our unexpected (and tragic to the naked eye) lives. But, we can laugh because we know there's more. There is, in fact, a loving, personal and gracious God who is as active in our lives as He was in David's. After all, that's the gospel: "The gospel is never a truth in general; it's always a truth in specific. The gospel is never a commentary on ideas or culture or conditions; it's always about actual persons, actual pain, actual trouble, actual sin: you, me; who you are, what you've done; who I am; what I've done" (Leap p.185).
But, perhaps I should replace "puny" with "small". PD James wrote, "Things good are small and fragile" to defend writing murder mysteries. Being on retreat has been replete with things small and fragile: Queen Anne's Lace, hugs, smiles, walking, naps, blueberries and hammocks. Meister Eckhart wrote, "If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, 'Thank you,' that would suffice." God's as present in my classroom of seventh graders as He is in the potter's studio of clay hands and as He was in David's field of sheep. My challenge is to be alive.
That was not the only conversation. There were conversations on drumming in Ghana, classical guitar, cooking chicken, compost, Food, Inc., dishwashers, organic, pottery, drawing, painting, Van Gogh, Asberger's, etc. The dinner was delicious and the conversation stimulating. As I sat in the chapel for evening prayer, Irenaeus's "The glory of God is a person fully alive" sprung to mind. The fascinating conversation stemmed from passionate women living life. I was by far the youngest (probably by about 25 years), but I found these women engergizing. Sometimes I dread getting older and lament how I've wasted time, then I come across these house wives, retired teachers, real estate agents that are nothing short of amazing. They took adversity and set backs (cancer, divorce, deaths of loved ones, career loss) as opportunity. After cancer or surgery, some of them started ministries or took Healing Touch. For them, adversity transformed into love and mercy for others instead of bitterness. The only thing they had in common that I could tell was relationship with God. These women's conversation weren't selfish or self-centered. The meal was the communion of saints. This dinner was nourishing and humbling.
The conversations led to self reflection. I'm no potter, no artist, no cook. But, who am I? The thought that popped into my head was studying for 8 hours straight (11am-7pm) this Tuesday. A lot of people couldn't do that. Granted, studying is the antithesis of sexy and seemingly pointless (grammar and classroom management). But, there's always the x factor in our lives: God. I'm nearing the end of Eugene Peterson's exposition of David's Life, Leap Over a Wall, and it's taking root in my mind. Writing about I and II Samuel, he states:
"We're getting a feel for the kind of narrative written here-- an immersion in the human condition with all its glory and hurt, promise and difficulty. But we're never left with mere humanity, mere history. The skill of the narrator keeps us alert to the presence and purposes of God being worked out in this story. We're being trained to read between the lines, for much of this story is implicit. But it's unmistakably there-- David isn't David apart from God. None of us is. Most of what we're reading about in David is God in David....
"The David story is a major means for providing us a narrative context for understanding our lives, in all their complexities as God-shaped.... ...Christians have characteristically lived themselves into the story of David.
As we do that, one of the things we realize is that the Christian life develops organically. It grows from a seed that's planted in the actual soil of our muscles and brain cells, our emotions and moods, our genetic code and work schedule, the North American weather and our family history....
"This is why the David story continues to prove so useful: it doesn't show us how we should live but how we do live" (pp. 137-9).
So reading the story of David this month, including the Psalms, with Peterson as my guide has been therapeutic. It's turned some of my angst into hope and faith... or at least converted the energy. I get frustrated with how utterly puny my life is. Last week, a friend and I started crying because we were laughing so hard from talking about our unexpected (and tragic to the naked eye) lives. But, we can laugh because we know there's more. There is, in fact, a loving, personal and gracious God who is as active in our lives as He was in David's. After all, that's the gospel: "The gospel is never a truth in general; it's always a truth in specific. The gospel is never a commentary on ideas or culture or conditions; it's always about actual persons, actual pain, actual trouble, actual sin: you, me; who you are, what you've done; who I am; what I've done" (Leap p.185).
But, perhaps I should replace "puny" with "small". PD James wrote, "Things good are small and fragile" to defend writing murder mysteries. Being on retreat has been replete with things small and fragile: Queen Anne's Lace, hugs, smiles, walking, naps, blueberries and hammocks. Meister Eckhart wrote, "If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, 'Thank you,' that would suffice." God's as present in my classroom of seventh graders as He is in the potter's studio of clay hands and as He was in David's field of sheep. My challenge is to be alive.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
"A Set of Rules Inside Your Head"
The above title was one of the three definitions of "grammar" I read today. I just added exponentially to my (already above average) nerdiness. You're asking, "Dear God, how is that possible?" I'll tell you: a 300-page, college-level textbook on grammar. Yes, I can chat about prescriptive AND descriptive grammar. Look me up at your next cocktail party.
And, as if grammar nerddom were not enough, I'm preparing an essay on "Assertive Discipline". I have to admit my inner 7th grader was drawn to a theory with "ass" in it-- it's so terribly relevant to discipline. My education classes are useful, but I think my textbook errs on the side of self-importance: it could be a bulleted list as far as I'm concerned.
I'm finally getting productive after several days of a haze of busyness blanketing a dirth of unproductivity. I knocked out three lessons today. At this rate, I'll finish both my classes in fewer than two weeks. On Friday, I found out that I will be offered a contract for next year (for the same position I had last year) as soon as I turn in my grades. Perhaps the uncertainity was weighing on me more than I realized.
Other big decision: I've decided to apply to PhD programs for Fall 2010. Who knows if I'll get in? If I'll get funding? But, I won't for sure if I don't apply.
IKEA overwhelmed me this afternoon. I'd been to the one in Vancouver and DC, but this was the first time I'd been to the one in Charlotte. Ye gods, it's enormous and full of stuff. All kinds of stuff. And, it's kind of creepy because I feel like I'm playing in other peoples' houses.
Last night, I watched "Food, Inc." with a friend and her friend's Christian women's discussion group. I enjoyed it. It felt a lot like book reviews of books I've either read or wanted to read. Both H and I left the theater deflated. How can a supermarket be this evil? Is there anything I can do about it? Knowledge is power, but it's also incredibly depressing.
Creativity corner: I'm coming up with middle-school centers. It's so much fun! I'm coming up with creative ways to engage students with the material. I love this stuff-- it doesn't feel like work. It's so full of imagination.
I'm going on retreat with my mom next Wednesday through Saturday. It should be really interesting and good.
And, as if grammar nerddom were not enough, I'm preparing an essay on "Assertive Discipline". I have to admit my inner 7th grader was drawn to a theory with "ass" in it-- it's so terribly relevant to discipline. My education classes are useful, but I think my textbook errs on the side of self-importance: it could be a bulleted list as far as I'm concerned.
I'm finally getting productive after several days of a haze of busyness blanketing a dirth of unproductivity. I knocked out three lessons today. At this rate, I'll finish both my classes in fewer than two weeks. On Friday, I found out that I will be offered a contract for next year (for the same position I had last year) as soon as I turn in my grades. Perhaps the uncertainity was weighing on me more than I realized.
Other big decision: I've decided to apply to PhD programs for Fall 2010. Who knows if I'll get in? If I'll get funding? But, I won't for sure if I don't apply.
IKEA overwhelmed me this afternoon. I'd been to the one in Vancouver and DC, but this was the first time I'd been to the one in Charlotte. Ye gods, it's enormous and full of stuff. All kinds of stuff. And, it's kind of creepy because I feel like I'm playing in other peoples' houses.
Last night, I watched "Food, Inc." with a friend and her friend's Christian women's discussion group. I enjoyed it. It felt a lot like book reviews of books I've either read or wanted to read. Both H and I left the theater deflated. How can a supermarket be this evil? Is there anything I can do about it? Knowledge is power, but it's also incredibly depressing.
Creativity corner: I'm coming up with middle-school centers. It's so much fun! I'm coming up with creative ways to engage students with the material. I love this stuff-- it doesn't feel like work. It's so full of imagination.
I'm going on retreat with my mom next Wednesday through Saturday. It should be really interesting and good.
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