I went to see Monsters University last night. It's a prequel to Monsters, Inc., giving us the story of the main characters in college. It was very good. Good enough to write a blog post after a months-long hiatus! Spoiler alert: I'm going to write about things that happen throughout the movie.
So the premise is that the little green monster, Mike Wazowski, is not very scary, and the big blue monster, James Sullivan, is. I love that they have "normal" names, and I think that's funnier than naming them Scary McFangs or something.
The whole movie is basically about Mike trying to be scary, studying hard for his Scaring class and final and then trying to win the Scare Games, while Sulley is a natural but that makes him pretty full of himself. The reason I'm still thinking about it and writing about it is that in the end, Mike does not become scary. His hard work pays off, but not in the form he hoped for. This is a really powerful idea for the kids and adults who watch the movie. Similarly, they were both cut from the Scaring program and eventually expelled, and the movie does not have a deus ex machina that lets them back into school to graduate with honors. They both leave school after one year to work in the mailroom at Monsters, Inc., which of course leads directly to the other movie. Again, not what either of them hoped for or expected from their college experience or from life, but it definitely counts as a happy ending. Happy and realistic. I'm continually impressed by Pixar/Disney's ability to draw adults in and write very fine scripts, both on the story-arc level and on the line level, while catering just as powerfully to children. In this case, as in others, it's a story most of us need to hear: no, we can't always transform ourselves or get what we want. But that doesn't mean failure, and if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Saturday, October 20, 2012
The Year of Contextual Thinking
I'm continually surprised at how well classes fit together. In high school and middle school, I was so delighted that we studied world history at the same time as world literature in another class, U.S. history the same year as American literature. Totally different teachers! I eventually figured out they did that on purpose, and was no less delighted.
In seminary, though, we decide which classes to take, so it's not really orchestrated that way, and somehow the same thing happens, at least to some degree. For instance, the word of the year so far is context. In Preaching & Worship, it's the decider of most everything. Got a congregation full of old people? Don't use too many illustrations about school or having young kids! They'll remember, but it won't make the same impact as things that are more relevant to their current experience. What if your listeners are mostly lifelong urbanites? You might want to take some more time to explain that agricultural metaphor. (Hey, even Jesus exegeted his own Parable of the Sower, and almost everyone knew the farming world then.) And it's not just illustration choices, but the length of a sermon, the style and format, even what you wear. Context, context, context.
In Teaching Ministry, it's the same. Clearly teaching a lesson to children is different from teaching the same lesson to adults, small groups are different from large, the examples abound. In both classes, a lot has to do with what happened before you were there, expectations that were set up a long time ago. That doesn't mean you can't do something different, but it means you don't have a blank canvas or an unlimited array of tools that will be equally well received. We often experience context as limiting.
The Church History application is only just becoming clear to me (which is part of why I choose this moment to write this), because it is more subtle and heady, but it may be more important. One of the things that makes me maddest so far in Church History is Constantine and his conveniently patriotic God. In very brief, Constantine was a Roman emperor who got there by killing or deceiving his co-emperors. Then he had a vision where God told him, "In this sign, conquer," the sign being the first two letters of Christ's name. So he did. He conquered a lot of people and made Christianity the official religion of the empire, ending one wave of persecutions and martyrdom, funding shiny new cathedrals in most towns, making bishops into civil judges, and issuing an imperial standard Bible. I guess I/we probably wouldn't be Christian if he hadn't had his visions and made Christianity so widely accepted, but I'm not sure the faith is better off because of him. Here's why: being a Christian came to mean something entirely different once he started his chain of events. Before, from Christ's time until his, Christians were mostly people who were desperate, marginalized, way way down and way way out. They met in homes. They didn't love the empire because God's kingdom was the true power. Some of them were martyred because they would not pray to the gods of the empire or curse Christ. That was enough to keep the riffraff out--or in, depending on how you look at it--no one would be Christian unless they saw it as a life-saving, life-changing faith that they couldn't imagine not following.
Then comes Constantine. Suddenly the emperor is doing it, so by definition Christianity is no longer so subversive. One will not die for being Christian. In fact, you're a lot better off if you are. Remember the part about bishops being judges in civil matters? If you go to church and know the bishop, well, that might pay off if you ever get in a tight spot with the law. Never mind other kinds of payoff. The church was all but overrun with what my professor calls free-riders, "people who join simply out of comfort and formality, and if it ever got difficult, they'd stop going." Sound like anyone you know? Maybe everyone (including me)? So the character of people who were attracted to Christianity changed radically. The atmosphere of worship and faith changed. The context was almost completely different. And that meant the faith itself and the practice of it were different too.
Aside from hipsterishly lamenting the mainstream-ization of the faith, I'm mad at Constantine because he made something easy that I believe was supposed to be hard. He thought God fought his battles and made his life and his reign easier. Aren't we supposed to fight God's battles instead, if we have to use that imagery at all? Since then, Christians have been reviled again, mainstream again, and everything in between, and sometimes it's hard to say where we stand today. But the point as far as this post is that the context was and is critical in determining what it means to be Christian, or to have any belief.
Then there's Greek class. When a word or phrase can mean two things, we always use context to determine which one's being used. That's a nice, small, concrete illustration: in one kind of sentence, the phrase means "her sister." In another, it means "the sister herself." So context sometimes disambiguates and always helps us discern meaning. I'm a different person with my family, with seminary friends, with Wilmington friends, with my boyfriend, in class, in France, with my two different host families from France, as a teacher, as a student...the list is exhaustingly and shockingly long. Any specific combination of people, setting, and mood constitutes a context and brings out different aspects of me.
The key is, I'm all of them. I'm only my full self when you add up all those aspects. And that's what makes the whole thing so maddening and so lovely: I can best understand Christianity when I look at as many contexts as possible. Far from being limiting, context becomes freeing and illuminating. This is what Christianity looks like in a small church in North Carolina. This is what it looks like in Peru. This is what it looks like in a megachurch in a beach town. This is what it looked like in the first century when Christians fully expected Christ to return any day. This is what it looked like when Constantine stripped it of itshipster outcast appeal.
It is very much a religion for outcasts and losers, but it is also a religion for prom queens and winners. It is for everyone, in slightly or radically different forms.
This is my Christianity.
This is yours.
All of this is ours.
Thanks be to God.
In seminary, though, we decide which classes to take, so it's not really orchestrated that way, and somehow the same thing happens, at least to some degree. For instance, the word of the year so far is context. In Preaching & Worship, it's the decider of most everything. Got a congregation full of old people? Don't use too many illustrations about school or having young kids! They'll remember, but it won't make the same impact as things that are more relevant to their current experience. What if your listeners are mostly lifelong urbanites? You might want to take some more time to explain that agricultural metaphor. (Hey, even Jesus exegeted his own Parable of the Sower, and almost everyone knew the farming world then.) And it's not just illustration choices, but the length of a sermon, the style and format, even what you wear. Context, context, context.
In Teaching Ministry, it's the same. Clearly teaching a lesson to children is different from teaching the same lesson to adults, small groups are different from large, the examples abound. In both classes, a lot has to do with what happened before you were there, expectations that were set up a long time ago. That doesn't mean you can't do something different, but it means you don't have a blank canvas or an unlimited array of tools that will be equally well received. We often experience context as limiting.
The Church History application is only just becoming clear to me (which is part of why I choose this moment to write this), because it is more subtle and heady, but it may be more important. One of the things that makes me maddest so far in Church History is Constantine and his conveniently patriotic God. In very brief, Constantine was a Roman emperor who got there by killing or deceiving his co-emperors. Then he had a vision where God told him, "In this sign, conquer," the sign being the first two letters of Christ's name. So he did. He conquered a lot of people and made Christianity the official religion of the empire, ending one wave of persecutions and martyrdom, funding shiny new cathedrals in most towns, making bishops into civil judges, and issuing an imperial standard Bible. I guess I/we probably wouldn't be Christian if he hadn't had his visions and made Christianity so widely accepted, but I'm not sure the faith is better off because of him. Here's why: being a Christian came to mean something entirely different once he started his chain of events. Before, from Christ's time until his, Christians were mostly people who were desperate, marginalized, way way down and way way out. They met in homes. They didn't love the empire because God's kingdom was the true power. Some of them were martyred because they would not pray to the gods of the empire or curse Christ. That was enough to keep the riffraff out--or in, depending on how you look at it--no one would be Christian unless they saw it as a life-saving, life-changing faith that they couldn't imagine not following.
Then comes Constantine. Suddenly the emperor is doing it, so by definition Christianity is no longer so subversive. One will not die for being Christian. In fact, you're a lot better off if you are. Remember the part about bishops being judges in civil matters? If you go to church and know the bishop, well, that might pay off if you ever get in a tight spot with the law. Never mind other kinds of payoff. The church was all but overrun with what my professor calls free-riders, "people who join simply out of comfort and formality, and if it ever got difficult, they'd stop going." Sound like anyone you know? Maybe everyone (including me)? So the character of people who were attracted to Christianity changed radically. The atmosphere of worship and faith changed. The context was almost completely different. And that meant the faith itself and the practice of it were different too.
Aside from hipsterishly lamenting the mainstream-ization of the faith, I'm mad at Constantine because he made something easy that I believe was supposed to be hard. He thought God fought his battles and made his life and his reign easier. Aren't we supposed to fight God's battles instead, if we have to use that imagery at all? Since then, Christians have been reviled again, mainstream again, and everything in between, and sometimes it's hard to say where we stand today. But the point as far as this post is that the context was and is critical in determining what it means to be Christian, or to have any belief.
Then there's Greek class. When a word or phrase can mean two things, we always use context to determine which one's being used. That's a nice, small, concrete illustration: in one kind of sentence, the phrase means "her sister." In another, it means "the sister herself." So context sometimes disambiguates and always helps us discern meaning. I'm a different person with my family, with seminary friends, with Wilmington friends, with my boyfriend, in class, in France, with my two different host families from France, as a teacher, as a student...the list is exhaustingly and shockingly long. Any specific combination of people, setting, and mood constitutes a context and brings out different aspects of me.
The key is, I'm all of them. I'm only my full self when you add up all those aspects. And that's what makes the whole thing so maddening and so lovely: I can best understand Christianity when I look at as many contexts as possible. Far from being limiting, context becomes freeing and illuminating. This is what Christianity looks like in a small church in North Carolina. This is what it looks like in Peru. This is what it looks like in a megachurch in a beach town. This is what it looked like in the first century when Christians fully expected Christ to return any day. This is what it looked like when Constantine stripped it of its
It is very much a religion for outcasts and losers, but it is also a religion for prom queens and winners. It is for everyone, in slightly or radically different forms.
This is my Christianity.
This is yours.
All of this is ours.
Thanks be to God.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
The actual subject matter
I chose my seminary mostly because of the community. It's so trite, really, but absolutely true. I felt that I could get as good an education here as at other institutions. I had a generous financial aid package (thank you!), and it is much closer to my parents than any other seminary I looked at. I could start in the summer term, which meant leaving my job sooner, a good thing. So there were plenty of reasons, but I wouldn't have paid much attention to them if the place hadn't felt good to me, welcoming and caring and cozy.
A seminary should always be welcoming because it is a community of God's people striving to do God's work. But the problem is, it's also an academic institution where one gets at least a master's degree. Those usually weed people out to some extent, see that they are made from the stuff of professionals in the field.
So we have a dilemma. We are a graduate school. The admissions department looks at a wide array of factors to tell who might be a good fit. But lots of the people who come here are supposed to be called by God. The admissions department has zilch to do with that, and less to say about it. I sometimes think God could come up with a better system for deciding who to call. A really good idea, for instance, would be for God to call only people who share my values and priorities, and especially my classroom manners.
Alas.
For some reason, being called to ministry--or at least going to seminary--doesn't mean falling in line with me. There are people who are "here to explore," which to me seems like going to med school when what you really want is to take a basic biology course. There are people who seem to be here to argue. There are people who just say things without wondering how people might take them. People who need to be in control. People who think they know the way things need to be.
These people's eyes are so full of specks I'm surprised they can see.
Why is it surprising almost every time I realize I don't have my way? It would be so much easier--for me--if people would just act the way I want them to.
Easier, but not better. If I went to a seminary where everyone thought and acted like me, I would be woefully and dangerously ill-equipped for ministry and for life, unless I could find a church full of me's too. But here, I'm learning about my own reactions to the bizarreries (a top French word) of people, what bothers me and what doesn't, why it got to me one day and not the next. Maddening though it can be, being in class with my classmates, especially those speckly-eyed ones I don't understand, is a more useful preparation for working with people than anything else we do here. For that, I am grudgingly thankful, and I hope over the next two years I can remove that "grudgingly" and give people the grace they give me.
A seminary should always be welcoming because it is a community of God's people striving to do God's work. But the problem is, it's also an academic institution where one gets at least a master's degree. Those usually weed people out to some extent, see that they are made from the stuff of professionals in the field.
So we have a dilemma. We are a graduate school. The admissions department looks at a wide array of factors to tell who might be a good fit. But lots of the people who come here are supposed to be called by God. The admissions department has zilch to do with that, and less to say about it. I sometimes think God could come up with a better system for deciding who to call. A really good idea, for instance, would be for God to call only people who share my values and priorities, and especially my classroom manners.
Alas.
For some reason, being called to ministry--or at least going to seminary--doesn't mean falling in line with me. There are people who are "here to explore," which to me seems like going to med school when what you really want is to take a basic biology course. There are people who seem to be here to argue. There are people who just say things without wondering how people might take them. People who need to be in control. People who think they know the way things need to be.
These people's eyes are so full of specks I'm surprised they can see.
Why is it surprising almost every time I realize I don't have my way? It would be so much easier--for me--if people would just act the way I want them to.
Easier, but not better. If I went to a seminary where everyone thought and acted like me, I would be woefully and dangerously ill-equipped for ministry and for life, unless I could find a church full of me's too. But here, I'm learning about my own reactions to the bizarreries (a top French word) of people, what bothers me and what doesn't, why it got to me one day and not the next. Maddening though it can be, being in class with my classmates, especially those speckly-eyed ones I don't understand, is a more useful preparation for working with people than anything else we do here. For that, I am grudgingly thankful, and I hope over the next two years I can remove that "grudgingly" and give people the grace they give me.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Back in the Saddle
I have high hopes for this new school year, and one of those hopes is to be a better blogger, by which I mean a more frequent blogger. Luckily, I have set the bar exceedingly low over the past few months.
I'll start with a recap of what's happened since December, which I believe is when I last posted.
In January, I took a fascinating and fun class in Celtic Christianity. I learned the term "local theology," which I really like. It basically means any group's theology is going to be affected by other parts of that group's life, like the geography and sociocultural climate they live in. The class required us to pray four times a day using a book called Celtic Daily Prayer from the Northumbria Community in Ireland. Or Scotland. Wait, I have the book right here. Turns out it's England. It was a practice I'd never done before and one I've returned to just in the last few weeks. That's been nice, and one of my high hopes is to continue setting that rhythm for my days. I'm also using Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals. My mom's obsessed with that subtitle.
In the spring semester, I took Theology, Old Testament, and a wonderful class called The Bible from the Underside. We looked at Biblical texts that dealt with minorities, and it was a life-affirming and enjoyable experience. A friend and I worked together on the final project and wrote a Biblical edition of The Vagina Monologues. We may even put it on someday.
The ecological committee started a compost area by the student apartments, and it's looking great a few months in. My dad helped a lot with the design ideas.
In April, I went to D.C. for the Ecumenical Advocacy Days. The theme was lobbying for a faithful budget.
In May, I went to the Annual Recreation Workshop in Montreat for class credit. I took a Contemporary Worship workshop and another on film and faith. A few days after we finished the follow-up work on campus, I left for the Raleigh area to do CPE, which is Clinical Pastoral Education. I spent the summer at Rex Hospital as a chaplain intern. I certainly see why many presbyteries and other governing bodies require people to do it before ordination, and I learned a lot and had many more moments of enjoyment than I expected. It was a rewarding and meaningful experience. I'm also not eager to do it again, and I'm immensely glad to be back in Richmond.
The couples I know who are planning weddings number four. Those expecting babies are two. That may be a combined record. I preached at my home church three times this summer, and if you ever want a massive ego boost, I recommend it. It's a real blessing to try something new in a place where you have always had love and support in spades. (That came up a few days ago, and I said I never got that phrase, "in spades." My boyfriend said he thought it means you have so much of something that you can scoop it up in a spade. Works for me.) Also, I LOVE PREACHING! It's a convenient intersection of my several types of training.
In a few days, I will start my second year, with Greek, Preaching and Worship (by far the most exciting! See above), Teaching Ministry, and Church History. I'm also the clerk of the student government assembly, which is strange but is already getting me at least one free lunch.
Gosh, are you exhausted just reading this? I guess that's what happens when I try to cram in three-quarters of a year's worth of action into one post. But this brings us up to the present day, and I can now blog as usual.
About the casually-mentioned boyfriend: I met him online, and we met met in December. He is wonderful and great and things.
So, things will happen on here some more. I'm excited. It's good to be back.
In January, I took a fascinating and fun class in Celtic Christianity. I learned the term "local theology," which I really like. It basically means any group's theology is going to be affected by other parts of that group's life, like the geography and sociocultural climate they live in. The class required us to pray four times a day using a book called Celtic Daily Prayer from the Northumbria Community in Ireland. Or Scotland. Wait, I have the book right here. Turns out it's England. It was a practice I'd never done before and one I've returned to just in the last few weeks. That's been nice, and one of my high hopes is to continue setting that rhythm for my days. I'm also using Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals. My mom's obsessed with that subtitle.
In the spring semester, I took Theology, Old Testament, and a wonderful class called The Bible from the Underside. We looked at Biblical texts that dealt with minorities, and it was a life-affirming and enjoyable experience. A friend and I worked together on the final project and wrote a Biblical edition of The Vagina Monologues. We may even put it on someday.
The ecological committee started a compost area by the student apartments, and it's looking great a few months in. My dad helped a lot with the design ideas.
In April, I went to D.C. for the Ecumenical Advocacy Days. The theme was lobbying for a faithful budget.
In May, I went to the Annual Recreation Workshop in Montreat for class credit. I took a Contemporary Worship workshop and another on film and faith. A few days after we finished the follow-up work on campus, I left for the Raleigh area to do CPE, which is Clinical Pastoral Education. I spent the summer at Rex Hospital as a chaplain intern. I certainly see why many presbyteries and other governing bodies require people to do it before ordination, and I learned a lot and had many more moments of enjoyment than I expected. It was a rewarding and meaningful experience. I'm also not eager to do it again, and I'm immensely glad to be back in Richmond.
The couples I know who are planning weddings number four. Those expecting babies are two. That may be a combined record. I preached at my home church three times this summer, and if you ever want a massive ego boost, I recommend it. It's a real blessing to try something new in a place where you have always had love and support in spades. (That came up a few days ago, and I said I never got that phrase, "in spades." My boyfriend said he thought it means you have so much of something that you can scoop it up in a spade. Works for me.) Also, I LOVE PREACHING! It's a convenient intersection of my several types of training.
In a few days, I will start my second year, with Greek, Preaching and Worship (by far the most exciting! See above), Teaching Ministry, and Church History. I'm also the clerk of the student government assembly, which is strange but is already getting me at least one free lunch.
Gosh, are you exhausted just reading this? I guess that's what happens when I try to cram in three-quarters of a year's worth of action into one post. But this brings us up to the present day, and I can now blog as usual.
About the casually-mentioned boyfriend: I met him online, and we met met in December. He is wonderful and great and things.
So, things will happen on here some more. I'm excited. It's good to be back.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Quantum Leapin'
One of the things I don't always like to admit I love about being at my parents' house is TV. I don't have cable in Richmond, and that's a very good thing. I never wish I had it. But when I'm here in Henderson, it's quite exciting to exercise the power of DVR. I often flip it on when I'm eating just to see what's up.
This morning, I came across Quantum Leap, the baller-est show of the 90s. It used to come on at noon every day, already reruns when we were kids, and my brother and I watched it with lunch. Here's the intro, which tells the premise more concisely than I would.
The episode I watched the end of today was the epic-est one because he leaps into HIS OWN SELF at age 16! Win. He knows his brother is about to go to Vietnam and die there, so he tries to keep him from going. It doesn't go well. He's all, "On April 8th, you have to hide in the deepest hole you can find. Promise me." Then he plays "Imagine" for his little sister and tells her the Beatles are going to break up and Paul's going to have a new band called Wings. She gets upset because she's never heard the song before, and probably because of Wings too. Then his awesome hologram advocate Al says, "You're not making it better. You're not changing anything in the future. You're only making them miserable now."
I'm guessing this lesson pops up in most episodes of the show. Knowing the future wouldn't make it better. It would just make us anxious. If I knew the great things in store for me, I'd just be impatient to get to them and not content with the present. If I knew the bad things, I'd be more of a worrier and a downer. This all assumes you can't change things, which we don't really know. But it certainly makes me feel better about the not-knowing.
Also, Scott Bakula= Hey there, sailor.
This morning, I came across Quantum Leap, the baller-est show of the 90s. It used to come on at noon every day, already reruns when we were kids, and my brother and I watched it with lunch. Here's the intro, which tells the premise more concisely than I would.
The episode I watched the end of today was the epic-est one because he leaps into HIS OWN SELF at age 16! Win. He knows his brother is about to go to Vietnam and die there, so he tries to keep him from going. It doesn't go well. He's all, "On April 8th, you have to hide in the deepest hole you can find. Promise me." Then he plays "Imagine" for his little sister and tells her the Beatles are going to break up and Paul's going to have a new band called Wings. She gets upset because she's never heard the song before, and probably because of Wings too. Then his awesome hologram advocate Al says, "You're not making it better. You're not changing anything in the future. You're only making them miserable now."
I'm guessing this lesson pops up in most episodes of the show. Knowing the future wouldn't make it better. It would just make us anxious. If I knew the great things in store for me, I'd just be impatient to get to them and not content with the present. If I knew the bad things, I'd be more of a worrier and a downer. This all assumes you can't change things, which we don't really know. But it certainly makes me feel better about the not-knowing.
Also, Scott Bakula= Hey there, sailor.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Wedding Report #5: Molly & Eric
This was the last of the five-month wedding run. Mom came to Richmond on Thursday night, and we left early on Friday for the land of Grey's Anatomy and Starbucks. The wedding was in Port Gamble, a small town outside Seattle. On the way, we checked out (the gift shop of) the glass museum in Tacoma, and we might have seen a building made of shipping containers. We saw Molly and her family when we got to the hotel, then we got amazing pizzas from a local joint.
Let me take a break to tell you about Molly. Of those who are not related to me, I have known her and kept in touch with her longer than almost anyone. She didn't come to Henderson until she was in eighth grade and I was in ninth. She was my brother's age but was in some of my classes for math because her former school district had had a different math track, and because she's wicked smart. Then she was in the combined French 3/4 class with me, my brother, our friend Doug, and a very few others. We saw Elf together in the theater, and the first Harry Potter. Molly lives within walking distance, so when it snowed she would go with us to the elementary school with the good hills. Molly was studying in London while I was in France, so our moms came over one weekend and we all met in Paris. After college, I lived with her and her sweet dog for a few months. Molly is an awesome cook and a great encourager. It's so nice to go across the country to celebrate someone you've known for that long and enjoyed so much.
The wedding was in this tiny chapel in a slight drizzle. All the music was from the Harry Potter movies, most of it recognizable only to fans as diehard as Molly. The main color was dark purple. I knew all the bridesmaids. At the reception, we sat with some of Molly's coworkers, who told my mom they loved Molly and would take care of her.
The whole trip, Mom didn't stop telling me that all the trees were pointy. It was neat to be in an all-evergreen environment, and occasionally we would round a bend and encounter a majestic lake with mountains beyond it. I'm proud of Molly for embracing a new place and a new family, creating a life that suits her to a T, and always being true to herself and those who love her.
Let me take a break to tell you about Molly. Of those who are not related to me, I have known her and kept in touch with her longer than almost anyone. She didn't come to Henderson until she was in eighth grade and I was in ninth. She was my brother's age but was in some of my classes for math because her former school district had had a different math track, and because she's wicked smart. Then she was in the combined French 3/4 class with me, my brother, our friend Doug, and a very few others. We saw Elf together in the theater, and the first Harry Potter. Molly lives within walking distance, so when it snowed she would go with us to the elementary school with the good hills. Molly was studying in London while I was in France, so our moms came over one weekend and we all met in Paris. After college, I lived with her and her sweet dog for a few months. Molly is an awesome cook and a great encourager. It's so nice to go across the country to celebrate someone you've known for that long and enjoyed so much.
The wedding was in this tiny chapel in a slight drizzle. All the music was from the Harry Potter movies, most of it recognizable only to fans as diehard as Molly. The main color was dark purple. I knew all the bridesmaids. At the reception, we sat with some of Molly's coworkers, who told my mom they loved Molly and would take care of her.
The whole trip, Mom didn't stop telling me that all the trees were pointy. It was neat to be in an all-evergreen environment, and occasionally we would round a bend and encounter a majestic lake with mountains beyond it. I'm proud of Molly for embracing a new place and a new family, creating a life that suits her to a T, and always being true to herself and those who love her.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Wedding Report #4: Lindsey & Jeremy
This wedding was a long time ago. September 10. I started the fall semester two days later, and blogging hasn't been a priority since then, but I've felt that absence, so here goes.
Lindsey and Jeremy got married at Landfall, the ritzy country club in Wilmington. I left Richmond early in the morning and rolled in just in time for a luncheon at Elijah's on the waterfront. It was awesome to see Stacey and Lyndsay and Lindsey and to get to know the other bridesmaids I'd heard so much about. I remembered other meals I'd had there, the one where Sims called randomly in the middle of it just to see how I was, the one where Katie walked across the restaurant to fix the blinds for me because the sun was in my eyes, the dinner we had to say goodbye to the same Katie but she didn't even make it and I was bummed.
After a happy girly lunch, Stacey and Lyndsay and I met up with Stacey's husband Bobby and got ice cream at Kilwin's and took pictures at the river in our dresses and, well, I wouldn't even say we caught up because these are people with whom you pick up where you left off, no big whoop. Lyndsay is in Colorado, and she says it finally feels like a real life. Stacey is in a tiny not-even-town in North Carolina, Bobby working in his parents' store and Stacey home with baby Jonah. Best mental image of the trip: Bobby worked at Starbucks before they moved. Every employee gets a free pound of coffee or container of tea or whatever each week, and before they moved, everyone at the store gave Bobby their freebies, so their pantry out there in nowheresville is filled with options for coffee and tea and cocoa and any such thing they could want.
The rehearsal involved mostly walking up and down the aisle, and then for the rehearsal dinner we went to the Pilot House, right next door to where we had lunch. I saw not one but two videos of babies dancing, and the mosquitos came out something fierce but someone had bug spray to share.
I got back to Jeff and Brinley's and watched The Soup and talked with Brinley for a bit before sleeping in their guest room, which has a remote-control fan. On Saturday morning, I woke to the sound of Brinley using her KitchenAid; she was working on concord-grape-and-rosemary focaccia. It was incredible. Jeff was out surfing. Brinley had made granola bars earlier (which I've been making ever since), and she broke one up and served it to me with vanilla yogurt and strawberries. Amy and Eric came over and hung out. The best thing about seeing old friends (OK, I know I'd only been away for two months, but a lot had happened in that time) is the ease of it, like you never left. It felt like I just happened to be over at Jeff and Brinley's that morning.
I got to Landfall in time to hang out for a little bit with Lindsey and the girls before we took our places. Everything was beautiful and sweet, and when they knelt for communion with their backs to us, we could see the bottom of Jeremy's shoes which said "Lucky" on the left and "Me" on the right.
At dinner, I sat with Elizabeth and Lindsay (yes, we are overrun with Lindsay/Lindsey/Lyndsay in that group, but at least they have different spellings), and again it was like old times, giggling about boys and getting excited about Elizabeth's applications to law school and feeding off each other's sweetness and care. The cake was the best wedding cake I've had, the speeches were precious and touching, the dancing was wild, and the whole thing made me see, on the fourth time, why it is that weddings are so great.
It's so not about lovey-dovey romantic mess, like I must have thought it was. Weddings celebrate love in general, and every type of love is present there. You have people who watched the bride and groom grow up, little kids who look up to them, new friends, old friends, neighbors, coworkers, every type of family, church friends, school friends, those who babysat for them and those whom they have babysat. I saw that very clearly at the Moore wedding, not that I didn't at the others. I saw how much Lindsey's coworkers love her. I saw how much her parents love her. Jeremy, great as he is, he's just icing, and that's as it should be.
I stayed with Megan, who was wearing almost exactly the dress I had thought about wearing, and slept hard and woke up and had salted caramel something at Starbucks because they were out of pumpkin spice and went to Pine Valley United Methodist for their 50th anniversary service and lunch, and I looked at what they were putting in the time capsule and hugged all the youth and ate a pot-luck lunch and listened to how all the couples at my table met.
Then I went to the Guppies' house. Baby Jack was asleep, and I had a good visit with Chris and Brian. When it was time to leave, I had to think hard of how much I loved seminary, which I really did and still do, but man, was it hard to tear myself away.
Thank you, Jeremy and Lindsey and everyone involved in the wedding, Jeff and Brinley and everyone from Pine Valley, Chris and Brian and everyone else I got to see in Wilmington, thank you, thank you, thank you Wilmington itself for drawing all these fine people, for being the place where we met and lived and shared and grew, for being the place where I finally started to get it.
Lindsey and Jeremy got married at Landfall, the ritzy country club in Wilmington. I left Richmond early in the morning and rolled in just in time for a luncheon at Elijah's on the waterfront. It was awesome to see Stacey and Lyndsay and Lindsey and to get to know the other bridesmaids I'd heard so much about. I remembered other meals I'd had there, the one where Sims called randomly in the middle of it just to see how I was, the one where Katie walked across the restaurant to fix the blinds for me because the sun was in my eyes, the dinner we had to say goodbye to the same Katie but she didn't even make it and I was bummed.
After a happy girly lunch, Stacey and Lyndsay and I met up with Stacey's husband Bobby and got ice cream at Kilwin's and took pictures at the river in our dresses and, well, I wouldn't even say we caught up because these are people with whom you pick up where you left off, no big whoop. Lyndsay is in Colorado, and she says it finally feels like a real life. Stacey is in a tiny not-even-town in North Carolina, Bobby working in his parents' store and Stacey home with baby Jonah. Best mental image of the trip: Bobby worked at Starbucks before they moved. Every employee gets a free pound of coffee or container of tea or whatever each week, and before they moved, everyone at the store gave Bobby their freebies, so their pantry out there in nowheresville is filled with options for coffee and tea and cocoa and any such thing they could want.
The rehearsal involved mostly walking up and down the aisle, and then for the rehearsal dinner we went to the Pilot House, right next door to where we had lunch. I saw not one but two videos of babies dancing, and the mosquitos came out something fierce but someone had bug spray to share.
I got back to Jeff and Brinley's and watched The Soup and talked with Brinley for a bit before sleeping in their guest room, which has a remote-control fan. On Saturday morning, I woke to the sound of Brinley using her KitchenAid; she was working on concord-grape-and-rosemary focaccia. It was incredible. Jeff was out surfing. Brinley had made granola bars earlier (which I've been making ever since), and she broke one up and served it to me with vanilla yogurt and strawberries. Amy and Eric came over and hung out. The best thing about seeing old friends (OK, I know I'd only been away for two months, but a lot had happened in that time) is the ease of it, like you never left. It felt like I just happened to be over at Jeff and Brinley's that morning.
I got to Landfall in time to hang out for a little bit with Lindsey and the girls before we took our places. Everything was beautiful and sweet, and when they knelt for communion with their backs to us, we could see the bottom of Jeremy's shoes which said "Lucky" on the left and "Me" on the right.
At dinner, I sat with Elizabeth and Lindsay (yes, we are overrun with Lindsay/Lindsey/Lyndsay in that group, but at least they have different spellings), and again it was like old times, giggling about boys and getting excited about Elizabeth's applications to law school and feeding off each other's sweetness and care. The cake was the best wedding cake I've had, the speeches were precious and touching, the dancing was wild, and the whole thing made me see, on the fourth time, why it is that weddings are so great.
It's so not about lovey-dovey romantic mess, like I must have thought it was. Weddings celebrate love in general, and every type of love is present there. You have people who watched the bride and groom grow up, little kids who look up to them, new friends, old friends, neighbors, coworkers, every type of family, church friends, school friends, those who babysat for them and those whom they have babysat. I saw that very clearly at the Moore wedding, not that I didn't at the others. I saw how much Lindsey's coworkers love her. I saw how much her parents love her. Jeremy, great as he is, he's just icing, and that's as it should be.
I stayed with Megan, who was wearing almost exactly the dress I had thought about wearing, and slept hard and woke up and had salted caramel something at Starbucks because they were out of pumpkin spice and went to Pine Valley United Methodist for their 50th anniversary service and lunch, and I looked at what they were putting in the time capsule and hugged all the youth and ate a pot-luck lunch and listened to how all the couples at my table met.
Then I went to the Guppies' house. Baby Jack was asleep, and I had a good visit with Chris and Brian. When it was time to leave, I had to think hard of how much I loved seminary, which I really did and still do, but man, was it hard to tear myself away.
Thank you, Jeremy and Lindsey and everyone involved in the wedding, Jeff and Brinley and everyone from Pine Valley, Chris and Brian and everyone else I got to see in Wilmington, thank you, thank you, thank you Wilmington itself for drawing all these fine people, for being the place where we met and lived and shared and grew, for being the place where I finally started to get it.
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