Focus

This evening, I am writing this very late, and I am very tired. I haven't accomplished terribly much more today than I do on any other day, but I've been doing things all day. For instance, my grandfather sent me a link to an online jigsaw puzzle, and then I found out that I can do infinite numbers of puzzles. That's not really a for-instance, it's pretty much the only distraction I had today. I love and hate finding new computer games or other distractions. Love because I am amused or challenged or get to use my brain in new ways, and hate because, God, look at me. Think of how well I could have used that time instead. Think of how asleep I could be right now, how much shorter my list could be tomorrow, how much less frazzled I could be as I pack for the weekend tomorrow afternoon.

Things always turn out well for me. Somehow, the things I'm obliged to do get done, no matter how much time I spend on things no one holds me accountable for. This is very much a blessing, but I think it keeps me from reforming and saying a resounding "NO!" to these time-eaters. The best thing I can do, for now, is remind myself of the power of focus and the importance of my top priorities. I thought of this article from Utne, which is actually an excerpt from a book. It's stuck with me for months because it talks about the far-reaching effects of focus or lack thereof. I need this today, and maybe you do, too.

Spoiler Alert

I watched last week's The Office online last night, and wow, what a great thing. Just when it gets too awkward or I start not caring about it, they come up with something fabuloso. Warning: if you haven't seen it yet and don't want to know what happens, stop reading now! Tune in for tomorrow's post, but skip this one!

So Michael asks Holly to marry him. At first, he wants to spell out the question in gasoline in the parking lot and light it on fire, but Pam catches him and calls a meeting to come up with a safe, reasonable proposal. In the end, Michael takes Holly on a tour of the office, telling her what happened in each spot: "I first saw you through these blinds," "This is where we first kissed," that kind of thing. Then he tells her the next part is going to be the biggest challenge to their relationship and goes through one set of doors, I think to the annex, and there's everyone from the office standing in two rows with a path between them, each holding a candle. "Will you marry me?" asks Phyllis. "No," says Holly. "Will you marry me?" asks Stanley. "No," says Holly, and so on as Holly and Michael walk down the line.

They go through another set of doors into Holly's office, which is full of candles. Michael goes down on one knee, and Holly kneels as well. He pulls out the ring, which is gigantic because he thought three years' salary was standard. He asks her to marry him in Yoda-talk, and she responds in kind. The sprinklers go off because of the candles, and they kiss in the "rain."

Here's a vid:

I'm sorry it's kinda cut off on the side. Here's the link in case you'd rather see it the regular way.

I'm not just sharing this because I'm obsessed with The Office. There's a lesson. God is always leading us through a gauntlet of competing loyalties. There are always people, or ideas, or groups, or other forces on either side of us asking us to commit to them, to love them, to follow them with our hearts and act accordingly. But we can't say yes to all of them, and if we want to be with God, we can't say yes to any of them. Even if you're not following God, you can think the same way about whatever it is you do commit to--your writing, art, studies, family, friends, sport, business. There will be challenges to your single-mindedness. Your role is to limit your yeses and choose them wisely. I believe strongly in the power of "yes" and the need to say it more often, but when it comes to the big questions, we have to be cautious sometimes. Otherwise, we will be drawn and quartered, pulled in opposite directions until we're torn apart. Committing to only one thing can keep us whole and healthy, moving in one direction to the delight of all.

Short and Sweet

Childlike is different from childish.
Carefree is different from careless.
That is all for today.

Feeding of the Five

This month has been March Madness at youth group, in which we make a special effort to pump up attendance and bring canned goods to donate. Yesterday, we capped off the month by feeding the hungry at Hallyburton Park. The other adults had gotten the word out with flyers and invitations to various groups whose members might be in need of a good meal. We got hot dogs and fixings, sweet tea, and everything else one needs for a great cook-out.

Then we woke up on Sunday morning. It was cold. Overcast. Very much threatening rain, and the threat came true. We had said "rain or shine," and we had to stick to it. Luckily, the kids had music practice beforehand, so they were already a captive audience and rode the church bus to the park. But youth and counselors far outnumbered the guests; there were maybe eight of them? It was extremely cold. We had a shelter, but the air itself was damp. The food was delicious, and we had fun. But I'm sure I'm not the only one who was disappointed with the turnout. Not that I blame them.

As part of this food-focused month, I did a talk on the feeding of the 5,000/4,000 (there are two different instances with different numbers). Jesus took tiny amounts of food and made them into enough for the crowds. I talked about how this is the only miracle the average person can actively participate in. We can't heal, we can't turn water into wine, but we can feed the hungry. We can give at least a little of our plenty to those who have less.

The hard part is, the need is no less present and pressing for one person, or eight, than it is for five thousand. We didn't get a big shebang last night. It wasn't a glorious event in which hundreds, or even dozens, came and were fed. It was just another night at the park, just another cookout, just another meal. But even though not very many people came, they were still helped. They got a meal they might not otherwise have gotten, and some of them took home leftovers too. So a good deed doesn't have to be, actually shouldn't be, a roaring success of an event. It can be routine, nonchalant, even in some ways a disappointment. In thinking big, we sometimes forget to think small: each life touched is a success. Period. It's not a numbers game, and it never will be. It's about paying attention to the needs around you and doing your best to meet them. We are very blessed to have so many opportunities to do so.

On Closing Doors

This morning, I hit snooze for a long time and then decided to skip the 8:30 service, which bought me an extra hour. I was even late to Sunday School! Watch out. This afternoon, I made a new chart for my Alton Brown eating plan, which I hadn't done in such an official manner since, oh, September. I got a star for today, which means I ate everything I'm supposed to. But I also ate a whole lot of cookies this afternoon, which means I can't have any more dessert all week. (In my modified-for-sanity plan, a small piece of dark chocolate is acceptable on a daily basis in addition to "dessert" once a week, which can mean a series of small items or one large thing. It's surprising how far just a little chocolate can go in curbing cravings.)

I was going to exercise this afternoon, but it was cold and damp out, and I have an aversion to exercising between two public appearances because I hate getting made up and hair did twice in one day. Blech. So, first thing tomorrow, no matter how cold, even if it's raining a little bit, I'm going out. I walked a fair amount on my trip but didn't run and certainly didn't eat healthily, so I'm reestablishing my good habits, and today was the beginning.

It occurred to me just today that Austin might be the happy medium between Richmond and New York. It's supposed to be pretty liberal but still has a Presbyterian foundation. In reputation for fun and, I'm guessing, in size, it's in between the other two cities. It has a two-week summer course where you hike and camp and learn about nature and spirituality (at least I think that's what you learn about; I stopped listening once he said "hike and camp for two weeks"). I still haven't heard whether I'm in. I'm mailing two of my "no"s tomorrow, to Princeton and to Iliff. It feels weird to put an end to a possibility, to a relationship really. I'm so used to broadening searches, keeping options open, waiting to see, needing to hear from someone else as opposed to being the one to say the word, that it feels highly unnatural to take this very tangible and final step of closing these doors. And for no reason that I can articulate, nothing but the blossoming feeling I get in my gut while visiting or thinking about other schools.

While I was working on my thesis, Philip told me at one point that it was time to close some doors, narrow my focus for the book. It hurt, but he was right, it was necessary. This is the same feeling. The good part is that I got into so many places and have so many options, and that I absolutely can't go wrong. I'm not going to be unhappy at any of these places, which is probably the most comforting thought of all. What a great privilege to go through this process, and to share it with you.

Pictures and Thoughts

A few images from the last legs of the trip:


New York knows how to do mosaics. Not a few subway stops had their names like this.

Here's a staircase at Union Theological Seminary in New York.

This was in the Boston subway, as you go down a set of stairs.

And this is something in Boston.

And now for our regularly scheduled programming:

Yesterday afternoon, my friend Peter called me while I was driving from one assignment/meeting to another. I stopped at a coffee shop, partly to avoid talking and driving at the same time and partly because it wasn't yet time for my next thing. I sat in the parking lot talking to him for a few minutes, then I went in, but I didn't get very far. The place was closed, apparently for painting. So I went back to my car and turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened. I wiggled the steering wheel. I tried it with my foot on the brake. I took the key out of the ignition, got out of the car, and got back in. Still nothing. So I called AAA and called the person I was supposed to meet. Took out my Harris Teeter bags and laid them on the ground so I could sit there and read. It was a nice day to be out of doors.

The nice man came and jumped the car, and I got home without a problem. But when I got here, it wouldn't start again. So I asked my roommate what one does in this situation, called Mom and Dad, and made a last-minute semi-appointment at the Honda place for this morning. So much for the day of mellow productivity I had planned for today. It wasn't so bad, though; I took my reading material, drank their free coffee, and got a new car battery. Afterward, I went to the grocery store and stocked up for just a little over half the full price, all told. Love it! It's super double coupon week.

I made some granola this afternoon for the first time in a long time. Got some reading done, and now after a little primping I'll be ready to go to an oyster roast, more for the company than for the bivalves.

I missed posting yesterday, due to nothing but neglicence. And car trouble. So let me say now that thesis readings are the best things in the world, and our creative writing program attracts brilliant, funny, big-hearted people and turns them out even better. What a privilege. I heard on Thursday night about a sketchy hitchhiking incident, a snow-and-ice rescue, a mob burning the home of a black woman for dating a white man, a southern boy's meeting with the Russian grad student who's running the psychology experiment he's part of, and two girls who are maybe in love in the midwestern winter when one of them gets involved with a paraplegic man. Where else can you get all that in one night, and so well done? Thank you, readers, writers, for sharing your talent and joy.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jig

I rolled in at about 11 last night, neck and shoulders stiff from driving and, I'm pretty sure, lymph node overdrive. When you combine seven days of fast action, a mostly-carbs-and-sugars diet, lots of driving, and the effort to be all reflective and discerment-y, it's quite an assault on the immune system. Luckily, the before-bed Emergen-C, as usual, worked wonders. This morning, I felt as good as one could expect to feel.

Boston University School of Theology seems like it's not the place for me. There's nothing wrong with it, but I didn't get that flash of glee or giddiness upon arriving or at any other time. It feels pretty good to cross a place off my list.

Union Theological Seminary in New York is a wonderful place. My trip there involved the car, a bus, the AirTrain, a train, and the subway, as well as leaving my phone in the car and buying the wrong kind of ticket for the train. Once I arrived, things were much better. I had breakfast at a place across the street from the school, and man, do I ever love sipping coffee while looking out through a window in a big city.

Union is the oldest non-denominational school of theology in the country. Many films and TV shows have used the grounds to get the quitessential old-school academia feel, like A Beautiful Mind and Mona Lisa Smile. (I first typed "A Beulaville Mind." That's the town I work in. It would be a really different movie.) All the housing, classrooms, and offices are basically one big building, with a tunnel connecting some of them so you don't have to go outside if it's bad. Some of the professors live there too. They have a professor of Theological Librarianship. The class I visited was really entertaining and educational. Chapel was led by a student who had made her own oil paints from natural materials and had some paintings on display. There was a labyrinth made of soil. The school has one main entrance with 24-hour security. There's no class on Fridays. It's sort of part of Columbia University, so the 300-odd Union students have access to a lot of other classes, the library, the fitness center, and the resources of a much larger, very good school. Someone estimated that about half of Union's students are gay, and they come from all denominations. It was a very good experience. It seemed to have all the advantages of Princeton, like pretty buildings and preparation for all different kinds of careers. But it's easy to arrange an apartment, unlike at Princeton, and living in New York provides so many opportunities for ministry and puts you next to so many people in need. Princeton seems to have less of that.

So, I went to Princeton and thought that was it. Then I went to Union in New York and thought that was it. Then I went to Union in Richmond.

I arrived really late, around 11 p.m., after a full day in New York. Because I'd just come from there, I thought Richmond was the most boring and lame-o place ever. The buildings were not impressive. I was very ready to write it off.

The next morning, I left my key in the admissions office before going to class, and the seats had all these pillows made from T-shirts. They had one of those cool one-off coffeemakers that also makes tea and whatnot, with those little cups, you know? The first class I went to, something about Ethics, was really good. The professor started by asking for prayer requests and saying a prayer. She was very funny and mentioned that she'd written a recommendation for one of the guys in the class. "Did you know that every time I write a recommendation for someone, they think that person has to be black? Like they don't think I would write a recommendation for a white person!" She's black. Later, a friend told me that her nephew is Nick Cannon, who was in Drumline and is married to Mariah Carey. "I found out that my nephew got married by watching Entertainment Tonight! I thought we were a close family!" she had said at the time.

After class, I went to the admissions office for a couple of talks, one with the dean of students and one with the financial aid person. But first, they told me I got in! They hadn't finalized the financial aid package but said it would be better than Princeton's. (That's how they put it, too. "We'll do better than Princeton." Just kidding!) Summer school starts in July, and they recommended that I go this summer. It sounds like a great way to adjust to living there and ease into having a full load.

The place I stayed was a one-bedroom apartment. Its condition and workmanship weren't anything special, but it was very spacious, with a study and a storage room. I've been assuming I want an apartment as opposed to a dorm, for various reasons, one of which is that I don't want to live in an already-furnished place. My tour guide mentioned that she might ask the housing people to take some of her dorm furniture out so she could bring her own, and I'd never thought of that! So I asked to see a dorm after all. It was much nicer than the apartment! Hardwood floors! Private bathroom! The one I visited basically had two rooms, at least one of which was much bigger than mine. The only disadvantage from an apartment is sharing a kitchen, but it seemed like people are pretty respectful about shelf space and not eating each other's food. There are two ovens, so the likelihood of both being in use is small. They did say that particular dorm might be full, and the other one is apparently not so great. It was a pleasant surprise, though, that at least the one dorm is so nice.

At chapel, the preacher was a professor there and a Davidson grad. His sermon was very good. We had a community lunch afterward, and I went to a class on theories of religious education, which was also very thought-provoking. I had a lot of trouble keeping my mouth shut, actually, because there were so many good ideas flying around.

I met with another professor who's also a Davidson grad, then had dinner with friends and hit the road, spinning with delight and dismay. Oh, well. No one ever told me it would be an easy or clear-cut decision. I'm very blessed to have had that trip and seen so many people I already knew as well as meeting new folks. I learned a lot, and now I have a bit more time to consider the various factors. I very much look forward to seeing how this will all turn out.

Boston, Day 2

This was my one full day off of the trip, with no driving or school visits. I hung out until almost 1, then rode into Boston to find the school of theology I'm going to tomorrow and visit Faneuil Hall, a place my roommate recommended with foods and shopping. I came back and spent most of the evening trying to fathom how I'm getting into New York City tomorrow night and back out the next evening. Now I'm going to bed. I had a theological reflection in my mind so the blogging would be a real Lenten practice instead of just self-indulgence, but it went away sometime between the New Jersey Transit Authority site and the four windows of MapQuest I had open at once. My stars. Over and out.

Boston, Day 1

Most of today was spent driving, so I don't have terribly much to report, only that I was able to avoid NYC traffic, hallelujah, and had no tollbooth incidents. I finished I Am America (and So Can You!) and started The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, which is very good. In regular reading, I finished Island of the Blue Dolphins on the subway into town. That's a good book. Rather darker than My Side of the Mountain but not enough to discourage me from this fun YA wilderness-survival trend. It's incredible to think of someone surviving alone in the wild for so long--this one's based on a true story. I doubt most of us would hold up very well or very long, and I'm not sure I'd even have much will to live if no one else was around. It makes you think about the nature and purpose of life at its most basic. Kinda scary.

I got here at about 4 at my hotel outside Boston and planned to chill for the evening but then found that a restaurant recommended by a friend would not be open tomorrow, so I thought I'd better go today. Mr. Bartley's Gourmet Burgers is a very good place to eat. Many of their burgers are named after famous people with clever taglines, like "The Ted Kennedy, a plump, liberal amount of burger" and "The Afghan--Attack this and you'll never leave." I sat at a long table with people I didn't know. It took me a while to find the place, but that was good because I got to explore more than I might have. Then I came home and here I am.

Princeton, Day 2

For some reason, I can only put pictures at the beginning of a post. So here they are! First, a cool sculpture, the first thing you see when you go in the museum. If you know me extremely well, you'll be glad to hear I did continue into the museum and was able to avoid walking directly under the dudes. There was a room full of statues, though, set too close together, which I skipped, but not before saying out loud, "ooooh, no." (If this is confusing to you, the explanation is that I have never liked things hanging from the ceiling. As a child, I would have whimpered my way under these guys with my eyes shut tight and someone holding my hand, if I went in at all. As for the room full of statues, that's a new thing, probably because I never saw one before. Museums in general are pretty dicey places for me because of these and other sensory dislikes, but I guess the art value outweighs the fear factor.) The captions apply to the pictures below them, not above. I would change this, but I can't cut and paste on this blog.

These little guys were all over the place today.

Here is a saint in someone's yard presiding over some of the same flowers.

I like the way this wall fits around this tree.

Just another day at Hogwart's. This is the university campus, not the seminary's.

Finally, how about that academic building? Most of the seminary's classes are in here. The interior doorways have pointy arches too.

This morning, I woke up before my alarm, maybe from excitement, and crossed the street to the admissions office to get a list of classes I could choose from to visit. I accidentally looked at the Thursday list instead of the Friday list, so instead of going to the beginning of a class on women and preaching, I went to the middle of a class on the three African novels of Chinua Achebe. It took me longer than I'd like to admit, to realize I'd goofed. In my defense, they had just finished lecture and were breaking up into groups, so it wasn't obvious that I had come in the middle. It turned out very well, though, because the discussion was lively and intelligent; everyone was clearly enjoying themselves and learning. And I knew one of the people in my discussion group! I had an inkling that it might be her, so I asked at the end what her name was. Turns out we did Youth Council retreats together in high school. But that's not all; our families go way back to when we lived in Raleigh before I was in first grade. "Had my parents died," she said, "I would have come to live with you!" That was the case on our side too.

We had dinner tonight; she was very helpful and said some thought-provoking things about seminary. One of them (I'm paraphrasing): if you plan to go into church ministry, why would you spend time at a very liberal seminary learning more liberal things when your career will probably put you in a moderate setting? Most churches are moderate, and it could be frustrating to have one's liberal ideals built up during seminary and then basically not be free to act them out or preach them the way one would like to. Not that a pastor isn't free to enact her theology, but I don't think anyone accomplishes anything by coming in like gangbusters with ideas no one will listen to, no matter what those ideas are. She said Princeton is pretty moderate as a whole, and the students run the gamut on most issues. I agree that this is probably a better environment for me, or for anyone, than a school that's mostly one way or another.

The main thing that bothers me, and that I'm looking at in each place, is housing. I basically will not live in a dorm. I'm past that for many reasons: 1) What would I do with my furniture? 2) Living in the dorm requires a meal plan, and cooking is very important to me. 3) No one likes to share a bathroom. But because I'm single, it's unclear what my chances are for getting an apartment through the seminary. At least one other school gives preference to married students for apartments. I see the logic in this, but that doesn't make it easier to accept. What I'm saying is, harumph. As for the cost, I just stick my fingers in my ears and say "La la la" when I start thinking about it. Unfortunately, that doesn't drown out one's own thoughts. So I blog.

Great things about Princeton: The students said it prepares people for various careers, which is great because I don't know where I'm headed afterward. Some seminaries are narrower. The town is beautiful and feels safe, and I would walk and bike a lot. (Except, the weather has not been representative. It was at least 70 degrees and sunny today! I truly don't know how I'd handle a real winter. So what I mean is I'd walk and bike a lot in April through September. The rest of the time, I'd dream about April through September.) There is a pool. Every class with more than 26 students is broken into small groups led by Ph.D. students or the professor. This is awesome and the way things should be. I could come for summer language school in July. They have chapel five days a week (all the seminaries have it, but they range from one day a week to five). Everyone left their bags and coats outside the chapel, which shows that they trust each other. (Davidson alert!) My initial reaction to arriving on campus was a deeply felt gut positive.

It's possible that I'll gush about everywhere I go. (Oh, I got word from Iliff in Denver. In.) We'll have to see. But at the moment, this place is pretty sweet. Austin is the other front-runner, but I don't even know if I'm accepted there. Uncharacteristically, I do not feel anxious about this decision. I almost wrote "do not feel anxious yet," but there's no reason to think that way. God is in control. It was his idea in the first place, so he'll make the rest clear.

Princeton, Day 1

This is the size serving they gave me at an ice cream place here in Princeton, with my hand for comparison and the sweet little spoon that's meant for samples but they use it for serving. You could get two flavors even in the small size, and they had a lot of Irish offerings, so I got chocolate Bailey's and an Irish beer flavor. Both were unique, complex, not too sweet, and just right. Best of all (sort of), as seen above, the small size was actually small! I love a restaurant that gives me a realistic, healthy portion that's satisfying but doesn't cause pain. Hence my photographic celebration.

This day was very tiring, fun, exciting, and at one moment a bit scary when I accidentally went in the E-Z Pass lane at a toll station and stopped to talk to the attendant and explain myself, not realizing there is no attendant at the E-Z Pass lane! And you're not supposed to stop or slow down! (I think the people have something on their car that is read by an apparatus.) So people honked at me, and I thought, well, they're not getting my money this time, I wonder what will happen. One of the times I went in the correct lane and had an attendant, she was mad that I gave her quarters. "Do I have a choice?" she asked, and not in a bright and friendly way. "No, sorry, I didn't know," I said. I had bills but didn't think one should ask for change at a toll booth. Clearly, toll rules are not part of my world at this time.

The GPS made me go straight into Washington, D.C., which I know is totally unnecessary. I more or less understand Mapquest and how to tell it to avoid certain things, but with GPS, I'm a blind follower of an eerily knowledgeable technology. In some ways, it's like God's guidance of us, how we're not supposed to ask for the whole plan, just follow the steps as they become clear. Except God knows to avoid D.C. traffic when possible. I was rather skeptical starting in NoVA, but when it told me to go on Pennsyvania Avenue, I knew I should just say goodbye to my pre-dinner arrival time. I was somewhere between "Oh, no, it didn't!" and "Maybe I'll pass the White House!" I did not pass the White House. The lesson is that I will study maps and Mapquest printouts before each leg of this trip and use the GPS only for portions. Thank you, Wilcox family, for the GPS! It is very fun to use and helpful.

I finished a pretty good mystery book on CD, although it was number ten in a series I've only read the first of, so the beginning was rough. The series is by Laurie R. King, and most of the books have something to do with bees in the title. The first is The Beekeeper's Apprentice. They are about Sherlock Holmes and his young lady apprentice! I'm pretty rabid about Sherlock. I recommend the books even if you don't normally go for mysteries. I then started on I Am America (and So Can You!), which is probably a lot better on audio (Colbert is reading) than regular. Come to think of it, he got a Grammy for it, right? Well deserved.

This book on CD thing, it is a revelation to me. I've finished two books in, like, 72 hours! In addition to the ones I'm reading reading! I wonder how long until I feel like I'm cheating on NPR.

When I got to Princeton, I felt a bit suspicious because I was driving through some pretty sparse areas, even when it said the school was less than a mile away. I wondered if Mercer Road and Mercer Street were different. But then the houses suddenly got bigger and closer together, and there it was! I drove around a green where people were throwing things to each other, and the buildings are all so precisely what a school's buildings should be--old stone, brick, fine craftsmanship. My head was spinning with books and academia and age, quite like a Davidson vibe. I checked into the guest rooms and then went to dinner at a bar in Palmer Square.

Let me tell you about Palmer Square. They have a store that is just for olive oil. They have a store that is just for stationery and paper. The public library is there. Nearby, there's a Talbots--regular and petites. There are a lot of restaurants that all look really good. But the most important thing about Palmer Square is...are you ready?...I stopped counting ice cream places. There are that many.

A wrong turn sent me walking down through/past the university's campus (Princeton University? Ever heard of it? I actually almost did forget that the seminary isn't the big thing in town), which looks a little like Hogwart's, like a dragon might poke his head around the corner. I can't wait to see the town in full daylight--it looked great when I arrived, but I didn't have time to explore or get pics before night fell, although those pictures probably would be good too.

So, I really like Princeton so far. I'm still curious as to how my tour, class visit, etc. will go. Oh, and I found out today that I got into three other seminaries. Those phone calls were an especially nice way to pass time on the road. Heh heh heh. This is one of those days (and chapters, really) you wish you could flash-freeze. Even though the future change is part of why it's so exciting.

The Next Step

Ta-da! The blood donation went fine, of course. They gave me Nekots afterwards and lots of water. It's pretty rare that one is encouraged to sit still and eat a snack for ten minutes. I did get a little squeamish thinking about some of the questions, some of the diseases they asked if I had, etc. But as I said, it's all psychological. I'm trying to decide now if this is something I should do regularly. It's such an easy way to help, really. While donated, I focused on the TV, which was on a show I'd never seen, but I think it had the guy who's on Love Actually as the rock star's manager/buddy and also on The Full Monty. But he was playing an American! Sitcoms in general are so bad, and this one was no exception. Thank God for the exceptions, and for the welcome distraction of a bad sitcom when you'd rather not think about the vital fluids leaving your body.

Now that I've done something unpleasant to serve others, the next step is twofold: to make it so that's not a rarity, and to do it without making a hoopla, blogged or otherwise. There's nothing humble about announcing to all of the internet what a servant you are! I've got a long way to go.

Tomorrow, I'm leaving for points north: Princeton, then Boston, then New York, then Richmond, to see schools in each spot. Friends have graciously loaned a GPS and suggestions for good food and fun. I'm about to print out my itineraries and directions, pack quickly, and get a good night's sleep so I can hit the road early. There's nothing like driving for hours and realizing it's only ten a.m.! I will attempt to continue the daily blogging on the road; if that doesn't pan out, I'll have a full report upon return.

On Giving Blood

I gave blood once or twice in college, maybe high school. It was a highly unpleasant experience, more psychologically than physically, and I decided I could be of service in more comfortable ways.

Fast-forward to early this summer, when my church held a blood drive and I felt the semi-familiar pang of "I should do that." I realized that I hardly ever did anything painful for anyone else. Youth group is loads of fun, and so are the other church-related things I do. I knew service is not about free pizza and fun and games, and giving blood would be one way to break that barrier. But I couldn't get away from work to give. Whew! Close one.

Then, I saw last Sunday that church was having a drive again today, Tuesday. So I called to make my appointment well ahead of time and tried not to think about it, becoming hypersensitive to the inside of my elbows.

Yesterday, I found out about a meeting I needed to cover for work which kept me from being in town for the appointed time, so I canceled. Normally, I might take this as a "sign" (AKA "excuse") that I wasn't supposed to give blood, but my mom said maybe I could give at a Red Cross center. So I called this morning and set up an appointment for tomorrow. I'll be at the center at noon, squeezing my eyes shut and dramatically turning my head away from my left arm. I'm aware that the world will not end, but I know it's going to hurt. As much as I'd like to avoid it, some things should.

Born Standing Up

I had the most delightful trip to the library today to pick up books on CD for my upcoming seminary scouting trip (yessss! I'm so excited!). I left behind a bunch that looked good, so I may start listening to them in daily life in the car if I can somehow square it with my unnatural love of NPR. I'm really excited to listen to The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, a selection of Christmas items from the Reduced Shakespeare Company, a couple of mysteries to keep it exciting, and one or two more.

I was so happy to have them that I popped one in right on the way home from the libes: Born Standing Up, Steve Martin's memoir. I'm on disc two now, which means it/I/we got over the hurdle of the all-important first disc switch. Martin is a pretty good and sometimes great writer on the sentence level, such that I may one day want to read it and copy down a phrase or two. I like the book so far for many reasons, partly because I've always been interested in humor as something to study. It seems so spontaneous, so undefinable, but I've heard many people say it's a science to be learned and practiced. Martin talks about falling asleep listening to records of comedians, playing them over and over to listen for their timing, vocal nuances, everything. He learned the banjo the same way, even slowing down the records to hear each note.

The idea of humor-as-science fascinates me because it's sort of heartening that something so seemingly effortless can be mastered with practice and time. When we see people who are great at something, there's no reason to be jealous in most cases because they probably spent their whole life perfecting it, to the exclusion of certain other joys. We're not all that different from each other. No one was born standing up, funny or otherwise. Yes, we have inclinations and talents, but those are nothing without effort. You might see someone's ability and wish it were yours, but just think--to be that good of a (musician, artist, mathematician, fill-in-the-blank), you would have had to sacrifice a lot of what you've done instead and, consequently, who you are now. You'd be a great fill-in-the-blank, sure, but there's no telling who you'd be as a result.

Let's all be thankful for who we are, what we're good at, what we're terrible at, and all the wonders of the world around us.

Devotion and Temptation

We learned in church today about temptation and how it is universal. Everyone, absolutely everyone, deals with temptation in some form.

This afternoon, I was reading about spiritual practices and considering the importance of regularity and repetition, carving out part of one's day and life to do whatever works: prayer, meditation, yoga, reading, the things that get us in tune and calmed down.

I've been intermittently following a plan on which Alton Brown lost fifty pounds. There are six things you have to eat every day, five at least three times a week, four to limit to once a week, and four to cut out entirely. The plan has worked well for me, especially when I follow it closely (imagine!).

So: Temptation is everywhere. Discipline, which I think of in this context as self-denial, is a good way to combat it in the short term, in essence saying, "I'm just not gonna." But devotion, which in this context to me means replacing the bad thing with one or more good things and focusing on that instead, is going to get you a lot further and be a lot more fun. The Alton Brown concept is that if you fill your menu, stomach, and mind with fruit, whole grains, nuts, leafy greens, carrots, and green tea, you won't have as much time and space to get distracted by the darling cupcakes, the crispy fries, the caramel, and all of their backstabbing friends. I believe this carries over to faith. If you focus on doing the right thing instead of assiduously avoiding the wrong thing, you will probably wake up one morning and realize you haven't been craving the vice quite so badly. And in the meantime, you have done something great for yourself, God, and the world.

This is the principle behind devotions, which I take to mean anything you do intentionally on a daily basis. You do it because you're devoted, not because you jump out of bed dying to do it each and every single day. I don't have any strong feelings either way about carrots. Sometimes, I get completely sick of them and even of the peanut butter I eat them with. But, for days or weeks at a time, I will eat a carrot a day, because I know it makes me that much less likely to binge on junk. Likewise, if you read a text that feeds your faith, or pray, or stretch, or do something else that's healthy and draws you toward God, those practices will occupy you for so many minutes, and during those minutes at the very least, you can't yield to the myriad temptations that face you.

John Revisited

It took me until a couple months ago to realize what John the Baptist means when he quotes Isaiah talking about preparing the way of the Lord. Every mountain and hill shall be made low, he says, and every valley be raised up. Every crooked path shall be made straight. For years, I liked the image but didn't get why this needed to happen. "That's not very nice to the mountains and valleys," I thought, having been raised in an age and a home where we respect differences and diversity. What a boring world it would be if everything were flat and every line straight! When did homogeneity become the goal?

But this Advent, when we read that kind of thing a lot, it struck me that it's not about sameness. It's about ease of travel. We lower the mountains and raise the valleys in order to open up paths for God's presence and work. We straighten the paths to make his way clear and simple. We have to create a world, or at least a life, where God's movement is unhindered. I know my heart is full of jagged mountains, and sometimes it seems like they will never smooth out. We all have things that make it harder than necessary for God to move in us. Lent is a good time to identify those and seek clarity on how to move them out of the way and eventually eliminate them altogether.

J the B

My second-favorite Bible character of all time is John the Baptist. (Third: David. First: Take a guess!) I picture him with wild hair and dirty fingernails, looking completely out of place anywhere but the desert. His appeal is the same as that of Into the Wild or My Side of the Mountain, which I'm currently re-reading: the windy, rainy, sweltering, harsh outdoors brought to bear on one person and bringing him to some precipice, bringing out the truth in him.

But more than just being a mountain man, John the B. is my favorite because he's so self-effacing. His whole life and existence are about glorifying God, announcing Jesus' coming, and he's okay with that. He never (on the record, at least) complains about playing second fiddle or wishes for more power. He has the right perspective. Even non-Christians, I think, can learn from his de-emphasis of self, his intense sense of focus and purpose. That is what Lent's about when done right: let's trim something that doesn't lead us closer to Him. Let's move ourselves an inch closer to the back seat and away from the controls. Let's bow our heads even though our necks are stiff from pride. Good thing we have forty days to practice.

Stir Crazy

It turns out if I'm used to running or biking or at least going somewhere for work each day, and then I have one day with none of those because it's intermittently rainy and there's no work assignment, it gets pretty bad around 4:30, especially if I also expected to hear back from another seminary and didn't. I'm about to go to the grocery store (after 5 now)and almost bursting with the excitement of leaving the house. I did go out to get the mail, but apparently that wasn't enough.

Just wanted to get that out before I settled down to something lent-y.

So. The main thing Christians need to remember about Easter, and thus about Lent, is that it's the most important thing in our religion. Christmas has become a bigger holiday in many ways, but it celebrates Jesus' birthday, and we all have one of those. Easter celebrates his resurrection, which is at the heart of everything Christians are supposed to believe. And it was scary and powerful and dark, nothing to do with pastel colors and bunnies. At Easter we celebrate, and during Lent we anticipate, the emptiness of the tomb, the gaping hole where his body should have been, the power of his absence. The question marks he left in his wake. His return and all that it means for the world and for us. We must make sure we focus on what we are really honoring, not the trappings that have come in since. Let's all take these days to honor the stinging power of God's love, the depressing Friday when for a moment he left, and the sharp blade of mercy that tore the curtain in two.

March, Thus Far

I've gotten into Princeton Theological Seminary, which I must say is a pretty big deal. I'm visiting next Friday and then hitting Boston University, Union Theological Seminary in New York, and Union Theological Seminary in Richmond at the beginning of the next week. The cool part is that I can't visit schools on a weekend because I need to see classes, so on Saturday and Sunday I have 48 hours to kill in the New York/Boston/Jersey/wherever I want to go area! Kevin told me to go to Spider-Man because it has so many problems that it's cheap. Who knows what I'll end up doing? It might be nice to sit in a hotel room and read. Let me know if you have any ideas for fun, cheap/free things around there.

It's remarkable how much I am attached to this "new" future. I put "new" in quotes because it's been floating around in my head and heart for so long but only now becoming real. When I was in grad school, and before, I wasn't thinking much about my future except to be anxious about it. Now, I'm almost more excited about whatever service and ministry I'll engage in after seminary than I am about being in school! That's a first, let me tell you, and part of why it's the right step.

That attachment to the future, though, sure does dilute certain elements of the present, namely my job. I feel pretty checked-out about work much of the time. But luckily, the rest of life is burstingly vivid! Wilmington is so dear, I'm living it up with my friends, and I've begun working out first thing in the morning, which is going surprisingly well for me. When I think about leaving here, I block it out except to dream about the huge going-away party I'm going to have. It's going to be an all-day affair.

Aha! I just thought of what I'm doing for lent! BLOGGING! I hadn't thought of anything but giving blood, which is quite a big thing for me but only a one-time deal. Now, I am happy with the decision to blog daily. Hold me accountable, will you? Uh, maybe I can get some kind of waiver for when I'm on my seminary scouting trip. I've considered taking my computer because some of the housing has internet access. We shall see.