OH. MY. GOD.
So cute. This video caused all-house uproar yesterday when it was sent to someone during study time. It turned five adults into balls of "awwww! IT'S SO CUTE!" today.
I just finished my second paper, so I feel like I'm at the crest of my schoolwork, peaking over the edge, lingering at the top of the wave for a few split seconds before everything comes crashing down at once. Then I emerge in the surf, covered in globs of wet sand and stringy seaweed while the wave recedes.
I'm going to enjoy the lingering and head to bed before I get started on my next paper. One's due Saturday and one's due next Wednesday, 8-10 each.
Bacher out.
April 28, 2009
April 26, 2009
an earthy, sticky smell
It's currently 81 degrees and I'm sitting on my porch, enjoying the slightly cooler air as the sun sets behind the houses across the street. Weather-wise, this has been a really great weekend. Personally, this has been a really great weekend.
I've been going through "lasts" - last class period, last Spring Fling, last Friday Eucharist chapel service, soon to be last papers, last coffee hour, last YDS. It hasn't sunk in that these are my lasts, there's still some surrealistic notions in my mind, almost like I don't believe it. I know it, but I don't understand it. One month from today is graduation and I'm out of here shortly after. The unknown looms, but still theoretically. There could be endless summer evenings on this porch for all I know.
I'm really going to miss this place - the people, the love, the humor, the academic and personal challenges. I almost want to compare my time here to a mountaintop experience where things are awesome but you can't stay there; you have to descend for the green, flourishing valleys. But that's not the case - I feel really sustained here. Life isn't barren but beautiful like on a mountaintop, but really rich and amazing. I'm not quite sure what to make of it yet, but I know this - I leave changed. Parting is bittersweet, indeed.
At the same time, I'm itching to get back to Minneapolis. I miss Amy and Drew and Kari; seeing MOK kids for Nat's wedding was really great. Reminded me why I love them so much and shaded these past few weeks with a longing for their company. Besides the friendships, I'm ready to start working. I'm ready to jump in and get my hands dirty. In chapel Friday, Emilie Townes asked us if we could smell the wetness of clay, waiting to be molded and shaped. Without a doubt, yes.
There's an intrinsic sweetness to a cool breeze. It carries an earthy, sticky smell.
I've been going through "lasts" - last class period, last Spring Fling, last Friday Eucharist chapel service, soon to be last papers, last coffee hour, last YDS. It hasn't sunk in that these are my lasts, there's still some surrealistic notions in my mind, almost like I don't believe it. I know it, but I don't understand it. One month from today is graduation and I'm out of here shortly after. The unknown looms, but still theoretically. There could be endless summer evenings on this porch for all I know.
I'm really going to miss this place - the people, the love, the humor, the academic and personal challenges. I almost want to compare my time here to a mountaintop experience where things are awesome but you can't stay there; you have to descend for the green, flourishing valleys. But that's not the case - I feel really sustained here. Life isn't barren but beautiful like on a mountaintop, but really rich and amazing. I'm not quite sure what to make of it yet, but I know this - I leave changed. Parting is bittersweet, indeed.
At the same time, I'm itching to get back to Minneapolis. I miss Amy and Drew and Kari; seeing MOK kids for Nat's wedding was really great. Reminded me why I love them so much and shaded these past few weeks with a longing for their company. Besides the friendships, I'm ready to start working. I'm ready to jump in and get my hands dirty. In chapel Friday, Emilie Townes asked us if we could smell the wetness of clay, waiting to be molded and shaped. Without a doubt, yes.
There's an intrinsic sweetness to a cool breeze. It carries an earthy, sticky smell.
April 22, 2009
April 20, 2009
April 19, 2009
End of Semester Numbers Game
Life's busy.
12 days, 8 hours, 40 minutes until I'm done with work for YDS.
4 papers to write, 3 events to plan, 2 books to read, 1 degree to complete.
1353 miles to drive at the end of May to get back to MPLS.
Many jobs to apply for.
I had a great weekend enjoying the nice weather and good company. It's about time to crack down and get my numbers list down to zero.
April 12, 2009
April 10, 2009
today you will be with me in paradise
This is a reflection I wrote for my Passion of Christ in Literature and Art class this semester:
Today you will be with me in paradise? Are you kidding? I don’t have time for paradise. I have things to do – I have reading; I have homework; I have plans to make and people to call. It just isn’t a good time for paradise right now. How about tomorrow? That looks better for me. Or even this weekend? “This weekend you will be with me in paradise.” So I’ll pencil in paradise for this weekend – say a late breakfast? I’ll be more prepared this weekend… I’ll be ready for Jesus in a few days.
In a world driven by instant gratification and the need for more hours each day, we are pushed and pulled between the now and the I’ll get to it next week and the ask someone else. But at this moment, we’re being told that today, we will be with Jesus in paradise. Today.
But what about tomorrow? I’m all ready for the endless tomorrows; today, I’m a little less certain. I’ve been making plans for after graduation – applying for jobs, finding places to live, imagining a future of summer bike rides, fall leaf raking, winter sledding, and spring gardening for seasons to come. I’ve thought so much about what the future holds that I’m not sure what today holds. Maybe today is that future I’ve been planning for. Maybe there won’t be endless tomorrows.
The man hanging next to Jesus didn’t have a tomorrow. He only had today. Condemned to die, the criminal asked Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom. Even dying on the cross, his mortal coil shuffling like hell, the man looks to the future and starts making plans. Jesus says no, seriously, trust me. Today. Today you will be with me in paradise. Not tomorrow. Not next week. No need to call ahead or spend time worrying about it. Now. We’ll be there today.
Woah. Hold up. Today? Like I said earlier, today doesn’t work for me. I have things to do. I thought we were going to meet this weekend. But Jesus is calling. Like fishers by the side of the lake, Jesus is calling and we’re going NOW. Ready or not, here Christ comes.
We have this amazing gift of life, a life filled with joys and struggles and good days and bad. But it’s ours and it’s not going to last forever, maybe not even to tomorrow. God gave us this gift and we’re wasting it. From dust we were formed and to dust we will return. We’re reminded of that at least one day a year, when we walk with the mark of our mortality for all to see, when God’s claim on us is made visible. The rest of the time? We’re untouchable. When we live with immortality in our blood, the truly important things get put aside for tomorrow or next week. That can wait. I’ll get to it later. I’ll call her next week. Oh, we can catch up another time. I have more time to volunteer next month. You know, next year I’ll really start to focus on social justice issues.
We only have so many days before Christ comes to us and says “It’s time. Today’s the day. Today you will be with me in paradise.” So start acting like it.
Today you will be with me in paradise? Are you kidding? I don’t have time for paradise. I have things to do – I have reading; I have homework; I have plans to make and people to call. It just isn’t a good time for paradise right now. How about tomorrow? That looks better for me. Or even this weekend? “This weekend you will be with me in paradise.” So I’ll pencil in paradise for this weekend – say a late breakfast? I’ll be more prepared this weekend… I’ll be ready for Jesus in a few days.
In a world driven by instant gratification and the need for more hours each day, we are pushed and pulled between the now and the I’ll get to it next week and the ask someone else. But at this moment, we’re being told that today, we will be with Jesus in paradise. Today.
But what about tomorrow? I’m all ready for the endless tomorrows; today, I’m a little less certain. I’ve been making plans for after graduation – applying for jobs, finding places to live, imagining a future of summer bike rides, fall leaf raking, winter sledding, and spring gardening for seasons to come. I’ve thought so much about what the future holds that I’m not sure what today holds. Maybe today is that future I’ve been planning for. Maybe there won’t be endless tomorrows.
The man hanging next to Jesus didn’t have a tomorrow. He only had today. Condemned to die, the criminal asked Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom. Even dying on the cross, his mortal coil shuffling like hell, the man looks to the future and starts making plans. Jesus says no, seriously, trust me. Today. Today you will be with me in paradise. Not tomorrow. Not next week. No need to call ahead or spend time worrying about it. Now. We’ll be there today.
Woah. Hold up. Today? Like I said earlier, today doesn’t work for me. I have things to do. I thought we were going to meet this weekend. But Jesus is calling. Like fishers by the side of the lake, Jesus is calling and we’re going NOW. Ready or not, here Christ comes.
We have this amazing gift of life, a life filled with joys and struggles and good days and bad. But it’s ours and it’s not going to last forever, maybe not even to tomorrow. God gave us this gift and we’re wasting it. From dust we were formed and to dust we will return. We’re reminded of that at least one day a year, when we walk with the mark of our mortality for all to see, when God’s claim on us is made visible. The rest of the time? We’re untouchable. When we live with immortality in our blood, the truly important things get put aside for tomorrow or next week. That can wait. I’ll get to it later. I’ll call her next week. Oh, we can catch up another time. I have more time to volunteer next month. You know, next year I’ll really start to focus on social justice issues.
We only have so many days before Christ comes to us and says “It’s time. Today’s the day. Today you will be with me in paradise.” So start acting like it.
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