Discretion's Not What I Need to Sell.

Quote of the year... courtesy of Personality Psychology and Dr. Hackney.
"The Hackney Dirty Slut Index: On a scale of prude to hooker, where would you place yourself?"

Marvelous.
Simply marvelous!

Be a part of an institution, lead the way in a revoloution.

I realized yesterday that I am going to need a year off after school just to swallow and process all the information I will have absorbed during my 5-year long adventure in Bachelor of Arts with an Honours French Major, Psychology Minor and Bachelor of Education.

I love my house. I live with some of the best guys around; Richard, Kevin, Corey, Chad and Nathan, as well as my stellar roomie Amanda. Two weeks ago at devos, we spent all night making jokes about Richard making porn and Corey being a pedophile. This week at devos we spent almost two hours discussing whether Deedz was doing God’s work or not. Just based on the fact that we can be laughing in both of those discussions means that I have found a crowd I can fit into, have fun with, grow with and learn from. I think that is as good as it gets.

One of my goals for this school year is to have 100 coffee dates. So far I have managed to squeeze in 5. I'm so excited for all of these coffee dates. So many people here are so amazing and have a lot of wisdom to offer.

Apparently many people from my school no longer believe in short-term missions. Anyone who doesn’t believe in short-term missions needs to move past “numbers” and “results” and look up God’s commandment to take care of the widow and the orphan. I’m pretty sure He didn’t specify how long we had to spend with them to ‘take care’ of them. And I’m also pretty sure He didn’t tell us to ensure “results”. And how can we measure efficiency, change or worth? Certainly not the way He measures efficiency, change or worth.

Everyone who thinks choral music is lame should listen to Crucifixus by Lotti and O Magnum Mysterium by Lauridsen.

Today was “Random Act of Chocolate Day”, in the world of my I.T. Boss. Score!

When it's Not Worth Dying For

This has been quite the time...

After naming my year the "Year of Accountability" I got to fight through mess after mess of defining accountability and judgment, being held accountable, and holding others accountable. Though I'm grateful for the lessons of the year so far, I'm hoping it's a little smoother sailing as I move into my third year at Redeemer.

I learned a lot about people by stirring the pot in our little faith community, that's for sure. When people feel that their way of life is threatened, I find there are two basic reactions; they either consider the validity of this new viewpoint, or they automatically declare it wrong and fight back viciously. I think that as Christians we need to be careful of this. God has called us to correction, and yet we have to be sure we are being corrected and not led astray. It reminds me of the song 21 Guns, by Green Day (honestly, I love this group and really appreciate their honest lyrics) which asks "Do you know what's worth fighting for?"

This year was tough, because only some people took correction very well, and even took it upon themselves to correct me on my own failings. Moments like these made me glad to be a Christian. (Not to mention I ended up with a boyfriend out of the deal, who just may be the greatest guy on earth). However, there were some people that refused to consider correction and lashed out in every way possible against this threat to their way of living. There were times when I was confused because I didn't even know who was fighting against me, and there were times where I was afraid because I felt everyone was fighting against me.

Luckily, though, I made it through the year relatively unscathed. This year (which is still the "Year of Accountability" until New Years) will hopefully pick up in a very different place than it left off.

Just Last the Year.

It disturbs me that sometimes people actually don't WANT love/peace/joy/friendship/simplicity/honesty.
They'd rather raise hell.
They'd rather be right.
They'd rather cause problems.
They'd rather get attention.

...

Disturbing.

A Combination of God and Chess Pieces.

Our world is interesting.
Twitter and micro-blogging are phenomena which I will never understand. I know what it's like to want an audience (clearly, otherwise the things I write in here would just go in a journal of sorts), but why the need for affirmation and disconnected connection all the time?
Facebooking, MSN, email, texting, Twitter, blogs, myspace... why the need for constant connection? Not that I haven't fallen into it, too. But why is my worth measured on how many people comment on my new Facebook picture? I find it interesting, comparing our generation to the one before us.
In any case, I've decided that I do, in fact, like personal connection better. Like the single-serving friends I get from standing in line for food with someone else who gets the 'veggie delite' and talking about why we don't eat meat. Or going out for coffee with someone I've seen around but not really gotten to talk to. Or heck, going for a walk at Webster's Falls with an old friend who I've known for years.
Yep. Real connection.
Speaking of connection, here's an interesting website; this artist has truly captured 'disconnected connection', though not in the internet form. The pictures, taken in NYC, show a way in which the subjects all share something without knowing it, such as all being in a rush, or all carrying flowers.
Below are my favorites from the collection. Here's the link to the wepage:
http://www.v1gallery.com/artist/show/3

Someone Makes Love; Love Makes Someone.

Speak with passion and others can feel the power of your words. Stop making sense and start making love. Sometimes I think speaking and dancing were separated at birth and are longing to find each other again.
--Ben Lee.

People around here just need to calm down, take a breath, check themselves and remember love.

Confessions of an Insomniac.

I am awake.


The night is at its darkest; just before the morning is recognizable as morning. I leave and tiptoe outside. I sit in the field and notice that the stars are still softly glowing, allowing heaven to peek through onto Earth. The clouds are heavy with rain, which occasionally drip on my bare skin, reminding me that I am human and alive.


When you can't sleep, you can't be awake either. I can't keep my mind occupied with one thought, but neither can I clear it enough to sleep. I feel the air thicken with moisture and wind. The breeze is fast and cold, moving through my bones and mind. The air smells sweet as the flowers slowly begin to stir. The night becomes morning as the light at the horizon remembers that it is soon needed. I, like the leaves and grass, begin to stir as the light touches me. I remember all that needs to be done today, the Sabbath, the day before my hectic week begins, the day where I will call home; the day of seemingly very busy 'rest'. And yet, none of that seems as important as existing with creation right now.


The pale, soft light of the morning reminds me of my close friends. Those who I am a part of and those who form a part of me. I remember the fun things we have done recently. I remember the fun things we have done in the past. I remember how many rules I broke and how many moral lines I blurred. I remember my own faith witness and wonder how I have tarnished the Lord's name. I stop. I have forgotten to breathe.


I inhale the good feelings. I exhale the bad memories. I center myself and remember grace. I breathe as though it is all my exhaustion will allow me to do. A whippoorwill cries somewhere near by. I am taken back to the very day my insomnia began; I remember sitting next to a pond with bullfrogs, coyotes and whippoorwills calling out to me all night and all the next morning. I breathe in again, remembering the sweet smell of the morning air beside Sycamore Pond. I breathe out, remembering the pain in my heart that began this journey of sleeplessness.


I look around. I see the grasses beginning to perk up, one by one; as an army of thousands moves as one. I look closer and see small midge flies beginning to rub the dew from their wings as I rub the sleep from my eyes. I look into the air and see the early birds rise into the clouds as though to greet the sun as soon as he arrives. I think to palm branches and wonder on the majesty of Christ's creation.


I look to my right hand and see the ring that has not left my body in three years. I remember all that it is and how it haunts me. I remove it and set it amongst the army of grass. I notice tones and hues of yellow among the white gold that I have never seen before. I look to the sky and see that the yellow is reminding me that I, too, am a part of nature. I, too, am a created being. I, too, am renewed every morning. The rainbows from the diamond are scattered across my ankle. The reds that is the passion of my Lord. The green that is the army that now carries my ring. The blue that is the night sky. The yellow that is the sun's renewal and the Son's renewal.


I recognize my oneness with nature. I feel the warmth of the sun as it rises, alongside the grass and whippoorwill. I am in the space between night and day, light and dark, old and new. Together, we step into the future.


Silence, stillness, peace. The sun cracks over the horizon. It illuminates my view; the church to my right, the orchard to my left, my house behind me, the creation around me. The sun seems to pierce through the darkness like a camera flash in a blackout. It pierces through my dark thoughts. It reminds me to breathe again. I shut my eyes and feel the light. I sense the reds and oranges triumphing over the blues and greens.


If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep. My mind is sent rocketing towards my future as though my past was a springboard. I feel the triumph of my future. I hear my whippoorwill again. This time, he raises a chorus of others. I hear a cardinal respond surely. I hear the army of grass respond by shaking off their slumber and rising to greet the day. I, too, rise. I take my ring from the ground. I look at it; it is no longer a bad memory, but a reminder that I am new. I wipe my cold feet on the wet grass; we are so similar, the grass and I. I glance towards the heavy rain clouds that are now obscuring my view of the sun. I remember that they are temporary, but that the sun will rise every morning. I feel the drips on my skin and hair; I remember that rain will bring green grass and flowers soon. I breathe in the sweet morning air once more. I tell myself that tomorrow has enough stress of its own. I don't need to add to it. I remind myself that I have already been taken care of and my plans are useless anyways.


I walk inside and go to sleep.