Football, Fanatics, and Family

I’m going to tell you a story.  Actually, I’m going to tell a couple of stories.  My narrative tone may have been influenced somewhat by my recent addiction to the sitcom “How I Met Your Mother” (HIMYM), which is basically about a guy telling his kids a bunch of stories about him and his friends living in New York while he searched for true love.

So in that vein, let me tell you a bunch of stories about me and my friends, family, and...football.

Before I was born, my dad was into football.  Not just into it—he played in high school and college.  He even won awards—he was really good!  But his love of football never really transferred to the rest of our little unit.  I was never coordinated enough to care much about sports; I got hit in the head one too many times in gym class and I guess it knocked out a good chunk of my competitiveness as well.  Growing up, fall and winter weekends were full of yelling in my house—my dad, hollering at the TV with such volume and enthusiasm that the rest of us were forced to take refuge away from the living room.  I didn’t get it.  Not only did I fail to comprehend the game itself, I didn’t see the appeal of cheering for a bunch of guys in tights that I didn’t even know.

Flash forward to college.  I went to a small Presbyterian liberal arts school in Missouri.  We didn’t have a football team; we had a basketball team.  I didn’t really get into that, either.  I was into doing drama for BSU and leading worship at InterVaristy and having long philosophical discussions with my friends.  And in my sophomore year, my family moved from Washington state to Western Pennsylvania.  To Pittsburgh, in fact.  And so I would go “home” to a city I was totally unfamiliar with.

One summer instead of working on campus, I went “home.”  I ended up doing an internship of sorts at the same water authority office in which my mom worked.  And that was when I discovered something strange and unique about Pittsburgh: their love of sports.  All my life, I’d considered football a “guy’s game,” something that gave men an excuse to yell and drink and be physical.  Sure, there was the occasional woman who got into it, but she was the exception.  NOT SO in Pittsburgh, my friend.  As I worked in that office, I overheard grown women sitting around in their jerseys talking about the game.  I was astonished; surely they didn’t mean the football game?  But they did.  I came to learn that these women weren’t an anomaly, either.  Pittsburgh has an overwhelming fixation on their teams—mostly the Steelers, though the Penguins get a lot of love, too, and the Pirates…well, they suck, but it’s still fun to catch a game at PNC park. 

Even the mildest of people can occasionally get caught up in the excitement when their town's team is in a big game, like against a rival, at the playoffs or the Super Bowl.  And everyone kinds roots for their hometown team in such cases.  You know, bit of hometown pride. Pittsburgh, however, tunes in devotedly anytime the Steelers are playing.  Win or lose, they're cheering them on, waving their terrible towels.  Game days find everyone from businessmen to kindergarten teachers wearing black and gold and/or jerseys.  Often at work.  I am not making this up.

And so a strange thing happened: I found myself, for the first time ever, watching the Super Bowl, and actually caring about the outcome.  Actually rooting for a team—unheard of!  I may have said that I rooted for the Redskins because it was the team from the state I was born in, but I never bothered to watch them play a whole game.  Slowly, over the next few years, I became swept up in Steelermania.  Not quite enough to buy my own jersey (though I did consider #43, Polamalu!), and I still had a hard time watching the entire game, but it was by far more invested than I’d ever been.  Pittsburgh’s love of their team—their pride in the Steelers, win or lose—was infectious.  

So, it’s weird for me to tell you this story of how I started watching football, and why I am a Steelers fan.  Weird because I watched the playoffs tonight—all four quarters, AND I yelled at the TV!  Weird because I no longer live in Pittsburgh.  But when you’ve moved around as much as I have, sometimes you hold onto weird things.  Sometimes they’re tangible mementos, sometimes it’s a favorite brand of something, or a certain pronunciation of a word.  Sometimes it’s a football team.  It gives me a strange sense of continuity in a life that is otherwise often fractured.  But it’s also weird because sometimes I get a glimpse of my own transformation from the other side.

For example, once I met an author at a conference.  I’d read some of her stuff, and I was a little in awe of her, so I started rambling.  This was right after the Steelers won the Super Bowl in 2006, and the town was still riding the high.  You need to understand that seriously, Pittsburgh is not like other towns.  I’ve lived a lot of places, but I've never lived anywhere that gets as wholly, almost unanimously invested in a team.  Seriously.  And I had been sucked in.  So I asked her what she thought, haha, of all the hullabaloo still going on.  She looked at me blankly, like she hadn’t noticed.  I tried to explain that it was a big deal to the people of Pittsburgh, where the conference was hosted, and she still had a kind of glazed over look like she’d never considered actually caring about the outcome of a football game…and I realized I’d suddenly become one of them.  I used to be really embarrassed by that story, but now it doesn't seem like that big of a deal.

The 2006 Super Bowl brought about an unfortunate, unforeseen side effect: family drama.  They played against the Seattle Seahawks, and in case you forgot, we used to live in Washington, and still had family in the Seattle area.  (And in fact, we are back again!)  What started as good-natured ribbing ended up becoming harsh on both sides, causing some temporary rifts that have thankfully healed since.  But I still have very good friends and family members who hate my favorite team.  In such cases, it’s easy to get swept up in the moment and forget the bigger picture.  Family & friendships are much more important than who wins a game of football! 

Fanaticism about anything can bring you closer to some people and divide you from others if you’re not careful.  Does that mean it’s bad to be a fanatic?  I don’t think so.  I’m a fan of a lot of things, and a twenty minute conversation with me will probably start to reveal them.  You could even say I geek out about stuff.  But the point of geeking out and becoming a devoted fanatic shouldn’t be merely to prove our own dedication and thereby exclude ourselves from the uninformed, unenlightened masses.  It should be to invite them to share our passions.  That’s what got me into football in the first place—I felt the city of Pittsburgh inviting me to share their joy and fervor over a good game.  If I hadn’t lived there so long (longer than anywhere else in my life) and experienced it for myself, I’d probably hate the Steelers, too.  I usually root for the underdog, and with six Super Bowl wins, the underdog they ain’t.  But instead, I’m a fan.  A black-and-gold-wearing maniac.

The funny thing is, there are tons of other things I’m more fanatic and geeky about than the Steelers.  Ireland, superheroes, Star Wars, philosophy, good stories, God, writing, Switchfoot, and Narnia, just to name a few, in no particular order.  In a way, it’s kind of fun to branch out and defy a few stereotypes.  Football, science fiction, and chick flicks.  Yep, I’m that kind of girl.  

I guess the moral of the story is: if I annoy you with my tweets or facebook status updates about the Steelers…especially when the Super Bowl is on…I’m sorry.  I’m apologizing in advance.  Just know at the end of the day, no matter how fanatic I sound, I am sane, and I care more about you than I do about the Steelers.  Now let's go forth and invite people to share in our fanaticisms, instead of driving them away.

Oh, and…go Steelers!!!  (I couldn’t resist!)

2010 in Review

Or, It was a Helluva Year, Wasn’t It?

Well, it’s the end of one year and the beginning of another.  Whenever I get to the end of December, I start to feel weird—restless, introspective, and vaguely unsatisfied.  Lots of people get reflective and zealous about the New Year, and I am prone to self-reflection throughout the year, so the New Year is like a double dose.  I look back on the year and wonder, what exactly did I accomplish?  And in the areas I feel I fell short, how can I improve?

While the idea of a fresh start is appealing to most of us, I think there’s something misleading in analyzing our months in terms of success and failure.  We set goals for ourselves with the best of intentions, but then get upset when Life intervenes and sends us off course. 

In 2010, I had three different addresses in three different states.  Believe me, that was NOT the plan when I started my year.  For ten and a half months, the vast majority of my belongings were in a storage unit in Branson, Missouri.  Also not part of the plan.  For nine months, I lived in my brother’s dining room in Austin, Texas.  SO not part of the plan (though I am grateful to him for putting up with me).  I also spent a third of the year unemployed.  But the other two thirds of the year, I did get to work with some really amazing kids whom I will miss in my new State.

In the middle of the year, I had an adventurous summer working at a day camp with the Y.  It was challenging, exhausting, and awesome.  I met some truly awesome and geeky tweens and got to experience a different side of Austin.  It absolutely was one of the highlights of my 2010.

In 2010, I searched desperately for direction and purpose.  I rediscovered a partly buried desire to go to Ireland as a missionary, to live relationally and be a part of the kingdom there.  The desire had never really left, it had simply been cluttered by other more immediate duties (like working, paying bills, and moving).  This year I did something about that desire: I attended an assessment conference held by the missions organization I wanted to go with, and they called me to work with them in Ireland.  It was such a moment of joy and clarity for me; but since then I allowed the same cluttering to reoccur, and I have done little since this summer to keep myself on the path to Ireland.  If I am going to go in 2011, I have a tremendous amount of work to do in the coming months.

I did a good bit of reading in 2010, including several books about the “new” things that are happening in the Christian community, things that excite me.  I attended a really wonderful church in Austin that brought me a lot of healing and encouragement.  I thought a lot about community and change and relational evangelism, but in reality, I spent most nights in front of the TV with my brother.  While I love a good story and I got see quite a few, there’s no doubt that I have been doing a little too much watching and thinking and not enough doing.  At the beginning of the year, I read Donald Miller’s “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” in which he talks profoundly about living a Good Story with your life.  It was part of what got me back on track about Ireland.  But now I am at the end of the year, and I wonder: did my months add up to a good story?

Now I am “home,” living with family again.  I never lived in Federal Way before, but about twelve years ago, we lived in Shelton, which is a couple hours away.  So it is like being home, in a weird way.  It’s beautiful here; the house we’re staying in has a view of the water, and on clear days (like today) you can even see the mountains.  My community is my extended family and the church that most of them attend—a tiny community church not at all like the one in Austin.  But my dad works there with the youth, and they feed the homeless every week, and they let us hold a Blue Christmas service.  This was my fourth year in a row putting together a service that allows people to step into the Christmas story with all their grief and sorrow and see that it may not be the “most wonderful time of the year,” but God is still with us.  

So I am facing 2011 and my mind is racing, trying to connect the disjointed stories of my year and retrace my erratic steps.  Did I learn anything?  Did I grow?  Did I change?  Did I discover anything profound about myself?  What did I accomplish (besides catching up on entire series of television)?  

• I kicked butt at laser tag (and got my butt kicked at paintball!)
• I paid off my credit card (cue hallelujah chorus, please)
• I finished one novel and am a chapter or two away from finishing another
• I kept my cat alive and well through three moves (sometimes with great protest on her part…)
• I read over thirty books
• I finally got some of the pictures I took in 2009 into frames

…Yes, major milestones all, clearly.  But seriously—what do YOU think the measure of success for a year is?  I’m still undecided on what to think of 2010 overall.  It was a strange and difficult year, woven from dark and knobby threads, but there were some strands of silver and gold in there, too.  Maybe the contrast is what makes it beautiful.  It was a hard year, but I am grateful for many things, including this opportunity to start fresh, close out one chapter and begin another.  

May my 2011 be less about goals and success as it is about telling a Good Story with my days, one I can be happy about when I am facing 2012.  And may you have a happy and blessed 2011, too.

Oh, Boy(s).

It’s interesting being a single gal these days. Seriously. I’m in a very peculiar place.

It would be very easy for a girl like me to get discouraged about my relationship status. After all, I’m 28. Not getting any younger. The biological clock is ticking and all that. And there are times when it is a struggle not to feel lonely, overlooked, or impatient. Like at weddings. Or on Valentine’s Day. When someone has a baby. Or when you find yourself surrounded by couples. After a Chick Flick binge.

But the truth is, I’m in no hurry. You know how at the beginning of the movie “Hitch,” the dating guru tells us that no woman wakes up in the morning hoping to NOT get swept off her feet? That’s true. But some of us have a lot of other things going on in our lives. Some of us don’t want to try eHarmony or be fixed up on blind dates. We want to find Love, sure. But in the meantime, until it finds us, we’re going to keep getting on with our lives.

One fun distraction I’ve given in to from time to time is TV crushes. My first love was MacGyver—seriously. Ever since then, I’ve had a slew of TV characters whom I’ve made regular dates with. More recently, I was digging Peter Petrelli of Heroes. But oohh, I just liked him so much better with the emo-bangs. Then I also fell surprisingly hard for Chuck. That’s the nerd-love side of me, I guess. Right now, I’m logging a lot of hours watching reruns of Psych. That Shawn Spencer is hilarious.

The thing is, real guys are sooooo much more complicated. Although I am blessed to have some good guys in my life again. It’s nice, because all of my guy friends from college either got married and/or live ridiculously far away. So, now I’ve developed a new circle of friends out here, which includes guys. Several of them are married or otherwise taken, but a few are single. And there’s just a different dynamic in a friendship when both parties are single. Usually. Maybe it’s just me, but I tend to be a little more guarded around “taken” guys, though it helps if I’m close to both halves of the couple. Anyway you split it, friendships with guys are complicated—but I wouldn’t give them up.

What’s nice about it is, it satisfies what I believe is a fundamental human need for interaction with the opposite sex. I was talking about this with one friend, whom I’ll call Clive. (I’m changing the names of the guys so that if by some chance they read this, they won’t feel so exposed. Or something.) Anyway, I was telling Clive that as important as I think it is for guys to have guy time, and girls to have girl time, it’s also really important to have that guy-girl time, too. It doesn’t have to be romantic. It’s just good to get that other perspective. Both man and woman were made in God’s image—both of them representing something different about the nature of God (as John Eldredge discusses in Wild at Heart and Captivating). I’ve learned to appreciate this other element, this masculine component, in ways I never used to. Of Course, I still get baffled and sometimes frustrated with the way guys think and act.

Like my one friend, Theophilus. Theo is this great guy—intelligent, funny in a snarky way, a real servant. Easy going, low key, multifaceted. But he’s got this way of keeping things to himself, not offering anything deep. And then he masks things with sarcasm, and a self-effacing humor. It’s perplexing. What’s he really thinking? I haven’t a clue—and I can tell he wants it that way. Unlike Clive, who has been remarkably open and honest about his struggles and his “walk.”

Not that I have a problem with quiet guys. My first (real, live) crush was on a very shy guy. And right now, I’m also friends with Duncan. It took me a long time to really start to get to know him because he’s just a very unobtrusive person. He’s polite and an all-around Nice Guy. And then, out of nowhere, he’ll say something that makes you laugh. It took me by surprise at first.

I love a good laugh, and I have such a broad sense of humor that it doesn’t take a whole lot to get me going. But my one friend Jason just has this knack for saying the funniest things. I wish things like that rubbed off on people. He is seriously one of the funniest people I’ve ever met, and he makes it look just effortless. I wish I could think that fast and that witty, but I’m left just laughing hysterically in his wake.

And it’s a blessing to have developed such an interesting circle of friends. Like I said, it can sometimes be daunting to a Single Woman to look at her life. The New Year makes us reflect on the past and look ahead to the future, and I find myself still in that process. This past week has really made me reflect on my guy friends, as I’ve spent time with them each in different ways and settings.

While I might sometimes wish for romance to be closer around the corner than it is, I appreciate the fact that I once again have guy friends that I can be myself around, talk to, grab a drink with, and laugh with. (It’s nice when I feel appreciated, too!) So here’s to all the pub nights, jam sessions, Bible study, TV shows, games, inside jokes, wii sports, guitar hero challenges, worship times, and impromptu, spontaneous hanging out in this coming year. Yay for guys! The world would be a much less interesting place without them.

TV, and More TV

First of all, lest you should think that I am completely shallow and obsessed with nothing but pop culture, let me assure you that I have in fact been using my brain the last few weeks. Truthfully, that's probably WHY I watch TV. To make myself stop obsessing over things in my life that are out of my control (and some things that are somewhat in my control, but I haven't quite fixed yet).

I have had deep conversations with several friends on weighty (but non-essential) theological matters (like women in leadership, predestination, and the Emergent Church). Also, I'm in the midst of planning CW's Christmas services (yes, we are doing two--more on that later). And trying to write more. I've got a fresh batch of ideas.

But in my downtime, I find myself gravitating toward my TV. It is Fall, after all. Lots of new shows. ANd new stories on the old shows. Now that I have my own DVR, it's not hard to catch up on anything and everything I want to. And as I tend to eat my dinner (and other meals when I'm at home) in my living room, rather than my kitchen, it's a great time to catch up.

I know lots of people who are always telling me they don't have time for TV. I think that's great. Very noble. I am sure they are involved in a lot of terrific things. ...Hm. So am I, for that matter. I'm out a few nights of the week, with Church stuff, Practice, and Chinese Church. But I still watch a ton of television, maybe because I have a living room all to myself. But I don't consider TV to be a completely anti-social activity. In fact, one of my nights of the week is dedicated to watching a particular program with my family and friends.

Heroes comes on Monday nights, and it is such an incredible show. I've loved it from the first ep. But you know I have a thing for superheroes. And now, just before it, Chuck comes on. It's only been two episodes, but I already like that very much, too. It combines spy stuff with geek humor, which is a fantastic combination. And then there are the other comedies--like The Office (I'm missing the Jim-Dwight pranks!!), the new Back to You, and probably a few others I'm forgetting. I've also been checking out The Reaper on the CW (even though I swore I was done with that channel after they canceled Everwood AND Veronica Mars!!--Luckily, the plucky Kristen Bell will resurface on Heroes!!). It's an interesting show, full of moral conundrums and theological liberties, but I'm waiting to see how it develops, just like Pushing Daisies.

I'm also still watching Bones (Brianne got me addicted!!) and Ugly Betty. What about Lost, you ask? Still a few months to go before that comes back on. February, I believe. Psh. Not that I'm any less interested. I know a lot of people are on the verge of giving up on it, but I'm holding out. I have to know how they're going to play this out.

And then...I got sucked into this British mini-series my friend Lynne lent me. It's called The Forsyte Saga. It's basically a soap opera set around the turn of the century, revolving around the members of the wealthy Forsyte family. At least, that's how it was described to me. I wasn't sure I'd like it, but I am such a sucker for British stuff...I love the way they talk. And it did keep me wondering what was going to happen next. And unlike regular soap operas, there is an end in sight. I'm close to it! Oh, the feuds! The drama! The divorces, the affairs, the extravagance!

So yeah, all in all, I've been watching a lot of TV. But I'm not apologizing for it. I know a lot of people think that TV is kind of evil; or if not exactly evil, not a worthwhile way to spend time. Maybe not. I guess it depends. I'm not really of the philosophy that something has to be sanitized and religious for it to be watchable. Mostly because that's not the world we live in. I don't want to fill my head with garbage...but I don't want to ignore our culture, either.

I've said before, I think, that Stories are what I'm most passionate about anyway, and stories come in a lot of different forms. Including TV. So while it gives my brain a chance to rest for a little bit while I watch, it also keeps me thinking long after the show is done. About life, relationships--the way we interact with each other, and how things play out differently than we typically think they will. It makes me think about my own life, and about the stories I have developing in my head.

So, what do you think? TV: Good or Bad? You know my opinion. What's yours?

Sick Day

I started this post, but apparently I was too sick even to finish it. I decided to publish it [aug. 08] instead of leaving it a draft. Just as a testament to the unfinished things we often begin with good intentions but get derailed from completing.


So.
This week I had to take a sick day.
It seems like a long time since I've had to do that. I mean, I was sick. Like, lie-around-and-watch -TV sick. Eat-nothing-but-saltine-crackers sick. Fever-over-one-hundred sick.
It came out of nowhere.
And you know what I did? I tried to fight it. Deny it. Pretend I was fine.
*shakes head* I know. Silly.
I don't know why I get like that. Like the world won't keep spinning if I stay on my couch watching Dharma and Greg reruns for a couple of days.

Trials and a New Toy

So, I got a new phone last week. It’s pretty cool. It’s one of those ones you’ve seen on Verizon commercials, where they play music for someone. Yes. It plays music. It is very cool. I do not have any kind of MP3 player yet, so I’m enjoying the three songs I’ve downloaded. I’ve spent the better part of my free time this week just exploring the coolness of my new phone.

I love when I get something new, and the newness is part of its appeal, and I spend many hours admiring my new thing—whatever it may be: a haircut, a pair of shoes, a CD…. I am also not one of those people who see in evil in new technology. Take the internet, for example. The internet has become something of a tragedy, at least morally, because of i-porn. Yet the ease of communicating with people all over the world, and the amount of knowledge contained on virtually any and every subject, makes it a worthwhile tool.

Technology is like anything else man-made: it has the potential to be used for good, and an equal (perhaps some would argue greater) potential to be used for evil. Telephones—and cell phones—allow us to talk to people all over the world. But they also interrupt our lives with sales calls, and keep us occupied when we ought to be focusing on the world in front of us instead of the person on the other end of the line (*ahem! Drivers! ahem!*). Still, I know that I would have been pretty lost these last few years if I hadn’t been able to communicate—by cell phone—with my best friends from college. Who all live several states away.

Even though I have been pretty occupied with my new “toy,” and enjoying it very much (my default ringtone is the chorus of David Crowder’s “Turkish Delight”!!!) I still have had other things on my mind this week.

One is, I recently had the most challenging day of Lent so far. I was at my Pregnancy Care Centers job, working, I might add, on a major database transfer, because we are switching programs, when we decided to take a tiny break and go take a peek at the yard sale that was going on just around the corner and up a flight of stairs from our office (which you may remember is located in the same church building where my dad works). I was looking around at all the stuff—typical yard sale stuff: stuffed animals, old happy meal toys, mismatched glasses and plates, etc. Then I saw the table of—you guessed it—books. I was immediately drawn to it, thinking surely it couldn’t hurt to look and see what they had. I hadn’t brought any money up with me, so I didn’t get anything—then.

But there was a book called “Colourful England” with pictures of old buildings (my boss showed it to me) that I wanted to come back for. She offered to spot me the money to get it, anmd I should have let her, because when I came back to get it, I ended up with an armful of books. Fourteen, to be exact. (But I got them all for $3.00!!) And as I’d stood there, pawing through the bins, glancing at the titles and occiasonlly the back blurbs, I suddenly got a sense of what it was I’d committed to for the Lenten season.

I bought a boxful of books that I cannot read, not for another twenty-eight days. I thought for the first couple of weeks that this would be no big deal, because even if I was giving up books, there were still movies to be watched. And there were always things to read in magazines, and in articles online; I hadn’t given those up. But being at that yard sale was a challenge: it was like making dinner for everyone, and tasting a tiny bit to make sure it was okay, but not eating any yourself.

I was challenged again, later that night, at the Chinese Church. It was, of course, St. Patrick’s Day, and I brought a little book to help them understand who he really was and why we have a day to celebrate him. I consulted with God on the way there if it would be okay to read it to them. But once there, I asked if anyone else would be willing to read it to the class. Several of my students took turns. (This was very hard for me because I love reading books like that to kids, and you know how children read.) When I had to help Stephen pronounce an Irish word (“shillelagh”) a couple of my kids reminded me that I was not supposed to be reading books.

Just before Lent started, I had been reading “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader” to the PCC kids. They were a little dismayed when I told them of my vow to give up reading books for the next forty-seven days. So that later, on the same night I’ve been describing, I asked if anyone else would like to read a chapter to the class. No one did. I asked them if they still wanted to hear some of it. They did. I asked them if they thought it would be okay for me to read a few pages to them. They did. So I read a chapter. I’m not sure if I ought to feel terrible about this; after all, it was only a chapter, and it wasn’t for me, it was for the kids.

But reading is so…part of me. I had to remind myself this morning of why it was that I gave it up in the first place. I’m not going to exaggerate and tell you that this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done; it’s not. Even though I am surrounded by books that I would normally have no qualms about snatching up and reading for several hours, it’s been nearly no trouble at all finding other ways to fill up my time. I have a sneaking suspicion that quitting the TV would be much harder, and that worries me just a little.

Well, this post is long enough for now, even despite the fact that it’s been a while since I’ve written. If you happen to see someone reading, perhaps you could offer up a quick prayer for me, that I’m learning what I’m supposed to be learning through this time. Thanks! 

47

Today, as you may or may not know, is Ash Wednesday. The first Day of Lent.

Now, when I was growing up, my churches never really did much with Lent. I was never encouraged to give up anything. I think it was generally considered a Catholic practice. It wasn’t until College that I ever really even paid attention to this season on the Church calendar. My freshman year, three friends and I all decided to give up sweets. That’s a pretty popular choice these days. It was hard, and I remember we had trouble with grey areas like sugary cereal and pop-tarts. But we did it.

I had one professor at C of O who was particularly in tune with the practices of the church, whether ancient, modern, contemporary, or postmodern. My senior year I took his class on Christian Worship and the class was divided into groups (were we in the same group Brianne? I completely forget!) to prepare and provide a Lenten service, one group a week. Again, prior to that, I’d never really paid a whole lot of attention to Church seasons, least of all Lent.

At the beginning of this year, I was reading a book I got for Christmas. It was Lauren Winner’s Girl Meets God. (Yes, the same Lauren Winner I got to meet and hear at Jubilee as I discussed in my last post.) She writes from a background in the Jewish Orthodoxy and mentions how they use a calendar of seasons to guide their worship. Most churches don’t seem to do this as much anymore…but her current church, which is Episcopalian, does. It was one of the reasons she was drawn to it.

There is a chapter in GMG where Lauren relates a conversation with her pastor just before Lent. He asks her what she is giving up; she tells him she’s going to fast on Fridays. He then asks her to give up something in addition: books.

When I read that, two things happened to me.

One was, I think my heart stopped. I was dismayed beyond words at the thought of giving up something like that.

The second thing was, I felt a nudge from the Holy Spirit.

Now, if you’ve ever felt this kind of nudge, you know what I mean. It’s a kind of spiritual elbow to the ribs. I’ve felt it before; it usually accompanies something I really don’t want to do. Something I feel I shouldn’t have to do. Something I could probably justify not doing. But when you get that nudge, there’s really only a couple options: obey, or disobey.

I know from past experiences with the said nudges, that if I do the thing I don’t want to, if I obey, it is usually to my benefit. It might be hard, even painful, but good comes out of it.

So I began by telling my family I was giving up reading books for Lent. They responded with surprise, even a little skepticism (as I said, we never did much with Lent) but eventually encouragement. I told Brianne; she too was encouraging but also a little surprised. If you know me at all, you know I read. If you know me well, you know I devour books. I read all the freaking time. I always seem to have a book stashed somewhere—in the bathroom, in stacks by my bed, in my purse….

But I know that God is not just calling me to give up reading because it takes up so much of my time. I know it has to do with obedience, and keeping my love of books from becoming idolatry. So I will be obedient. It is nerve-wracking, quite frankly, to realize that I will not be picking up and reading any book at all (except the Bible) for the next 47 days. Especially after I bought all those books at Jubilee. I already have a considerable list accumulating of books to read when Lent is over.

It sounds crazy, even to me. But I don’t share this story to say “look how holy I am,” I share it so that you can participate by encouraging me. This will be a challenge, I know, and it’s only day one. You can pray for me, that in the absence of my reading God will show me what he wants me to learn, and that I won’t just fill it with something else. Like TV. Even though I did just get season 4 of MacGyver.

Books are a big, dare I even say HUGE, part of my life; but God must be bigger still. I look forward to this time of Lent with anticipation and trepidation both; who can say but God how I will emerge? What will God teach me in the next 47 days, about discipline, obedience, and grace? Well, when I find out, so will you! 

Weird

After writing my last post, in which I confessed that as much as I want to be married, it’s not at the top of my to-do list, I started think about just how weird I am. You’d really think that a hopeless romantic like me would rate marriage as her number one goal in life, but...no. Sadly, this is not the only bizarre thing about me, as you’d see if you really knew me. So, for the heck of it, I thought I’d come clean and post a list of the 27 weirdest things about me (27, btw, is my favorite number). [For future readers, I'm adding edits in this color, over 4 years later.]

1. I have never lived anywhere for more than about five years. Some places I lived less than a year. [Pittsburgh was seven years.]

2. I am a phone-a-phobe. I hate to call people on the telephone. I don’t even like ordering pizza. I don’t know why; but I would much rather write an email or a real letter than call someone that I don’t know very well. And I mean very well.

3. I don’t like the taste of alcohol. I barely tolerate the smell. [This has changed.  I have come to enjoy some types very much in moderation.]
4. I currently own over 500 books, crammed into my bedroom. And I fully intend to buy many more.  [I couldn't begin to guess. Probably twice that.]
5. I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 24 years old.
6. I have only been on two real dates. With two different guys.
7. I went to four different high schools.
8. I don’t believe in evolution. [At least, not macro evolution.]
9. I haven’t celebrated Halloween since I was five.
10. When I was in high school, I refused to watch Friends.
11. I like to watch TV and movies with the closed captions on, even though I am not hearing impaired.
12. I work at a coffee shop, but I don’t drink coffee.  [Yep, drink that now, too, thanks to my stint at Starbucks.]
13. In my spare time, when I’m bored, I watch Disney Channel programs. And I enjoy them.
14. I believe with my whole heart that there is a God, and that He created me, died for me, and loves me.
15. I am both a cat and a dog person.
16. Some people hear things and burst into song (my parents); I hear things and it will remind me of a movie quote. And I have to say it. And it will sound totally random.
17. Whenever I watch something (TV, movie) I play the “Where have I seen him/her” game. If an actor or actress is familiar, I have to figure out where I’ve seen him or her before. Luckily, IMDB has made that a whole lot easier for me.
18. I laugh out loud when I’m reading or watching something, no matter where I am.
19. I write in my books; I underline and circle things and scribble in the margins even if it’s a work of fiction. I can’t not write (if it’s my copy).
20. I randomly use a British accent in conversation; but my whole family does this. [This has gotten worse since becoming obsessed with Doctor Who.]
21. I really don’t like going to the beach or camping. [Actually, it depends on the beach, the campsite, and who I'm with.  I quite liked Greystones beach in Ireland, for example.]
22. I watch the credits of movies.
23. I eat cake for the frosting. But only if it’s the “good” kind.
24. My legs do not tan. They stay super-white no matter how long I stay out. [Except in Texas, as I discovered during a long summer as a camp counselor in the scorching sun.]

25. I snort when I laugh if I think something is really funny.
26. I’m actually friends with my brother and parents.
27. I don’t care a whit which way the toilet paper goes.

There you have it! I’m a freak. Though you probably already suspected this was true, now you have proof. But you know, I wouldn’t trade all my quirks and idiosyncrasies even if I could. Maybe that’s the weirdest thing about me.

PS: I challenge you to come up with a weird thing about me and post it in a comment. Go on. I can take it. 

Steeler Nation

Well, tonight marks a milestone in my life: for the first time ever in my 26 years, I actually sat down and watched the Super Bowl—first to fourth quarter.

I am admittedly not the biggest football fan, despite my dad’s attempts at indoctrination. But here I am in Pittsburgh, where I have lived the last almost four years. I’ve lived all over the country, and I have never, ever lived anywhere that went so nuts for a football team. It’s quite infectious. Pittsburgh loves the Steelers. And it’s easy to see why: the guys—quite aside from their athletic prowess—are great guys.

I have said many times in my life that I can’t get into sports games, unless I have some kind of emotional connection to the players. Well, it finally happened in a national game, which I never thought it would. And usually, I go for the underdog. I also usually go against the tide. But…we really do have some great guys out here. I personally voted for Hines Ward for MVP on superbowl.com during the fourth quarter. And can you believe that Ben Roethlisberger is only 23???

I even donned black and gold for the occasion. You really can’t get by in Pittsburgh if you don’t; even in church this morning my mom said people were wearing jerseys. I’m telling you, it’s insane out here. Black and gold has been everywhere for the last two weeks, and every other marquis down the road had a “Go Steelers” or “one for the thumb” message. (Btw, in case you’re as uninformed as I am, that means because they won their fifth championship game, they got a fifth ring—for the thumb.)

Just one more thought: they always say that one of the best parts of the SuperBowl is the commercials. Of course there was the really fun "Addicted to Lost" commerial, but did anyone notice the MacGyver MasterCard commercial? I was like, *insert surprised noise here*? I had to rewatch it. Go, Mac! Still so cool. (But getting old. :( That was why I didn’t quite recognize him at first.) Thank you, MasterCard, for recognizing the greatness of a true TV hero.

And thank you, Steelers, for bringing home the trophy for all your fans. Pittsburgh is now officially Steeler Nation.

What's a Girl to Do?

So…I’m sick. Yesterday afternoon I was serving lattes and biscotti to people who are probably now starting to get scratchy throats. I actually took the day off—not something I normally do. I don’t generally like the idea that I’m replaceable, that the gap I’d leave if I wasn’t there to do my duties might be filled by anyone else. Anal, huh? Bet you didn’t think I was the type.

Well, I didn’t really get much in the way of a weekend, between my two jobs and my volunteering…so today was my Sunday, my Day of Rest, my Day of Recuperation. I slept in, putzed around, and most blissfully watched MacGyver Season Three episodes. Then my mom came home (with pizza and salt-n-vinegar chips!!) and we had a Veronica Mars marathon (I’m really liking that show!). It was a nice day, aside from all the coughing, congestion, and fatigue. Man, I really sound like a wimp. Hm. Something about being sick brings out the baby in me. Maybe I’m not as tough as I’d like to be, after all.

I wish, for example, that I was tough like Sydney or Veronica. Now there’s a pair of girls who know how to get things done. Whatever it takes, whatever the stakes. Wow. That sounds like an incredibly cheesy tagline. Hmm. I need to stay away from the Nyquil.

But seriously, I love the idea that I could go undercover, get the information (or, y’know, whatever) and make the world a better place. And not just metaphorically. I mean, I love the idea of an alias, of being in disguise and acting out a role…spy stuff. I’ve covered the symbolic reasons for this spy obsession of mine in my post about Alias, but I think there’s a literal side to it, too.

However, I happen to be one of those people who thinks way better on paper than in person. I’m the type who, when insulted, thinks of the perfect comeback hours—maybe days or even years—later. I could never think as quickly on my feet as Veronica or Sydney. I’m not even sure I could lie as well. And I definitely couldn’t sneak around, snooping in people’s apartments and offices. It stresses me out just to watch.

So, as they say, I’ll play to my strengths. I’ll observe, daydream, and maybe eventually write my own spy alter-ego into a story. Perhaps I’ll come up with a slightly klutzier and less self-assured Spygirl—sure, she can still kick butt, but sometimes she’ll get by on sheer luck.

What else is a girl like me to do? Y

3 Job Whine

I believe I mentioned in my VFD post that I am currently working three jobs at the moment. Moment, being of course, a euphemistic term for the past two weeks—and one future week—of my life.

It’s driving me insane.

I am getting sick at the moment (can colds spread over the phone? Or via the web? jk) and I know it is because I have not managed to get more than about five hours of sleep any night this week. My parents are shaking their heads at this, I just know it. Yes, it’s my own fault. Yes, I could go to bed earlier.

[Actually, it’s a lot harder than you’d think. Night Owlish-ness was already a habit before my college days…and I still have not been able to shed it.]

So basically I’m just dragging myself from one place to the next, with hardly a break in between. Which sucks, which is why I’m whining about it. Thursday I actually worked at all three places for a few hours…and I don’t think I was really focused on any of them. Shame on me.

I’m not the greatest multi-tasker to begin with; I don’t like having my attention divided too much. I’m so tired and I just want to get back into a normal routine. I’m on day-off withdrawal; I used to only work three days a week, this past year when I was working only for the dentist. I will miss that part of it. *sniff*

Okay, enough of my pity-party. The good news is, I ended up having the night off tonight, and tomorrow I don’t work (thought I do have CW, hope I don’t lose my voice). Even better, I have the house to myself. I thought it would be a little depressing being home alone while the rest of my family is downtown listening to John Perkins, but after this week’s craziness, the peace is nice. I caught up on this week’s Veronica Mars and Everwood and What Not to Wear (guilty pleasures all!) that I was too busy (!!!) to watch at their regularly scheduled time. And in a bit I’ll work on a short story idea. If I get it finished soon, I may submit to my devArt site. (Of course, I won’t, b/c I’m a perfectionist and I am terrible at short stories. I’ll get maybe another page and give up before heading to someplace random, like Homestarrunner.com.)

You probably won’t hear from me again until my life begins to normalize (Normal? What’s that? And since when is that even an option?). Later.

It Takes More

(Disclaimer: This is destined, I am sure, to be only the first of many posts on this subject. You are free to agree or disagree and post your comments, but please be courteous.)

Tonight I watched the movie “Kingdom of Heaven,” which deals with the crusades. I was curious to see what side of it they would represent. Instead of going too much into what I really thought of the movie, I’d rather talk about something that sort of struck me as I watched, something that tied in with another topic I’ve been wanting to post about anyway.

In the movie, as in history, of course, you have two armies fighting each other for the same reason: the claim of the Holy Land, and for “God.” While some might argue that the Christian God and the god of Islam are the same, I am not one of those people. But on the side of the “Christians” (and while some Christians were actually portrayed with some integrity, the majority, as usual, were not) there were many who believed that marching on the Saracens under the Cross was God’s will and meant they could not fail. To say otherwise was blasphemy.

It takes more than a Cross to make a Christian.

It takes more than a symbol to make worthy a cause.

It takes more than singing the right songs, reading the bible, staying away from R-rated movies, joining bible studies, going to church every Sunday, not cussing, reading every Max Lucado* book that comes out (but never, ever reading any Harry Potter book!), volunteering, not smoking or drinking, or any other list of “do”s and “don’t”s you can think of.

I’m not sure when exactly I realized this, but it has made a big difference to me. To be a Christian of course involves personal sacrifice, giving up comfort, serving others, and doing the right thing. But we have made those things the standard of Christianity, not the fruit. These things develop naturally out of a relationship with God, not the other way around. Following a list of Do’s and Don’t’s doesn’t necessarily make you closer to God. Just ask the Pharisees of Jesus’ day.

Truthfully, it bothers me that much of Christianity has been reduced to following this list. One of the things that ought to set us apart from every other religion in the world is that we don’t have to work for our salvation. We were given it as a gift, and it is out of gratitude that we serve God. It is out of his overflow of love into our hearts that we help the needy. It is out of respect for Him that we eliminate things in our lives which are not pleasing—and this doesn’t look the same for everyone!!!

Some people he calls at times to give up TV. Others he calls to write for or act in shows on TV which Christians may not even watch because it offends them. Because being a Christian literally means being a follower of Christ, we have to look at it as a journey. We often call our spiritual life our “walk” but then live as though it is a regimen. We all know deep down the cliché, “It’s not a religion, it’s a relationship.” But we don’t really live like that because it is hard. It is risky.

I know I’m generalizing. And I keep saying “we.” I’m just reflecting on what I’ve seen so far in my life. It takes more than staying in line to make us like Christ. And it takes more than a bunch of people showing up on Sunday to make a Church.

But more on that later. 

*I actually enjoy many of Mr. Lucado's writings, and did not intend to offend anyone by suggesting he is not a thoughtful writer. I do, however, take issue with his uber-popularity among Christians.

Simple Pleasures

When I was in high school, my best friend and I bought pins from Claire’s that said: “Of course Blondes have more fun; it takes so little to entertain them.” Melissa and I thought this was hilarious, and we were blondes. Normally I don’t go in for blonde jokes, but it was true: it did take little to amuse me. The fact of the matter is, I’ve always been relatively easy to please.

When I was a young child, before my brother was born (so, zero to four) my parents could leave me alone in my room for hours playing with legos or my stuffed animals and dolls. I would draw and make little booklets, read, and make up my own songs. I could entertain myself very well.

Things haven’t changed that much. In college, I could spend hours with a stack of magazines, a pair of scissors, a roll of tape, and my favorite sappy movies. I did collages and watched videos on my roommate’s TV. (Yes, videos. Believe it or not, DVDs were very rare when I was in college....does that make me old? Wait, don't answer that) I should have been studying, but that’s beside the point. And it wouldn’t have been entertaining or amusing.

Today I am also feeling rather pleased, and it’s not because I spent part of the day on the computer and part of it shopping. It’s because of what I got. Now I know, money can’t buy happiness…but it can buy it for a little while. At least for thirty hours or so, enough time to watch the entire first season of LOST and some of the bonus features available on the DVD. And another twenty some hours to watch the second season of MacGyver. (*sigh.*)

If being a bit of a Drama Queen means I am sometimes prone to making a big deal out of things that really aren’t so bad once put in perspective, then the flip side is that I also get easily satisfied by small things. New clothes, new haircut, a good book, a good movie, a good song, a purring cat in my lap: all make me happy. I was happy yesterday because my CD player in my car started working again and I got to listen to Nichole Nordeman on the way home from work.

Maybe it’s flippancy; maybe it’s shallowness; maybe it’s being easily content. All I know is I enjoy life’s simple pleasures, and I like that I enjoy them. I’m not saying that anyone should let his or her happiness hang on material goods or their circumstances, but I do think if more people derived happiness from the little things, maybe we’d all be happier more of the time. I know it does sound flippant to be so happy about a TV show, but if you read my post about Alias, you’d know that at least some of my guilty pleasures have good reasons behind them.

But right now I’m so tired that the thing I’d get the most enjoyment from is going to sleep. G’night. Y

ALIAS

I love Alias. I do. I just bought Season One this weekend—I got it previously viewed from Blockbuster so it was only $25!!! I love bargains!—and I finally watched the first three episodes last night. I really love it. And I think I’ve finally figured out why.

There are many reasons to like Alias. There is Sydney Bristow (played brilliantly by Jennifer Garner) for starters; I’m hard-pressed to think of any guys who don’t like her. Or girls, for that matter, though not quite in the same way—they save that for Michael Vaughn. There’s the action: Sydney is just awesome at kicking butt and not taking crap from anyone. I mean, talk about girl power. There are the very, very cool gadgets, usually provided by the very nerdy but nonetheless adorable and funny Marshall.

There is the music, from J.J. Abram’s opening theme, to the song selections for each episode, to the scoring by the brilliant Michael Giaccino (who also does the fantastic music for LOST). There are the plot lines: not too hard to follow if you keep up, and with enough twists and turn to leave you surprised. Often VERY surprised (Season Four finale, anyone?).

Then there are the characters. They are very complex and fascinating; real, three-dimensional, believable, and sometimes unpredictable. They are strong, smart, funny, snarky, ruthless; you either love or hate them—sometimes both in the same moment—but very rarely do you just not care about a character. They are human; they mess up, make mistakes, fight, and do their best to do what they think is right.

But I think the real reason I love it—along with thousands of other viewers—lies elsewhere. I think it has more to do with…escapism. Or just fantasy-ism in general. I’m talking about a preoccupation with spies that goes back almost to childhood for me. It started with mysteries and sleuths in grade school, like Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden and their ability to sneak around and dig up clues and pay attention to small details. It progressed to shows in my pre and early teen years like Remington Steele, Scarecrow and Mrs. King, and my favorites Mission: Impossible and MacGyver (*sigh* who deserves his own blog of tribute). Really, with a background like that, it was only a matter of time before I fell for Alias.

It’s perfect, really. For one whole hour every week, I get to be a spy. I get to vicariously live out my secret espionage desires. I get to see the world, kick butt, save lives, and the best part is, I come home without a scratch. Or any bruises. Or the fear of retaliation. Living out as Sydney, I get to imagine what it’s like to be an important part of a critical and covert organization.

I get to pretend for a little while that I have a vital role to play, a job that no one else can do as well as me, a role that no one else can fill, a job that could very well save the world. I get to go behind enemy lines, sneak into their base camp, and steal back valuable items and information, even rescue people.

John Eldredge would probably say that the reason I like Alias so much is that it is a picture of me and my role in the Larger Story—the Story we all are living out every day. He doesn’t normally write about spy stuff—he’s more into epics, fairytales, and war-ridden dramas—so I’m just speculating here. But all that stuff about being behind enemy lines, and going undercover, having a critical role to play—that stuff is so Eldredge.

In his book “Waking the Dead” (in my favorites list, I recommend it to everyone) he outlines three Eternal Truths that we find in stories we love.

1. Things are not what they seem.
2. This is a world at war.
3. You have a crucial role to play.

I can see all of these applying to Alias. Things are not what they seem. No one is what he or she seems. Sydney is not just another pretty face. Her father is not just an aloof airplane parts salesman. Even Vaughn, we learn, is not really Michael Vaughn. (Whatever that means, J.J.!!) SD-6 is not part of the CIA. As far as being at war goes, there are always bad guys to fight, some more prevalent than others. And Sydney, as well as the other main characters like Jack, Vaughn and Marshall all absolutely have a crucial role to play.

And so it relates to us; this is why we love it. Because we know that in our world, also, nothing is ever quite what it seems at first glance. There is conflict going on everyday with everyone. And whether we feel it or not, we each do have an important role to play, something designed just for us in all our uniqueness. Maybe it’s not as dramatic or dangerous as what Sydney does, but…since nothing is what it seems…then again, maybe it is.

Singleness

This morning I went to church with my parents. Usually I go on Saturday nights, to Community Worship at Memorial Park. But my dad recently got a job at North park Church, and they wanted to introduce him to the congregation. And he wanted the family to be there. No problem. My brother Kyle and I showed up (thankfully) right on time and took a seat. I was looking kinda cute—at least, I was wearing a blouse, skirt and heels, which is a bit of a stretch for a jeans-and-tee girl like me.

So they go through the announcements and a testimony and a couple of songs and finally ask my parents to go to the front. My dad says he was nervous, but it didn’t show. He was cracking jokes and keeping everyone’s attention. And then he decided to introduce us, his “adult children.” Kyle and I politely stood to say hi to everyone. And then he said it: “And they’re both single.” I sat down immediately. The congregation erupted into laughter.

It’s not that I minded or that I was even mad; it’s more of the label that bothers me. “Single.” Alone. Unpaired. Yeah, okay, so I’m single. Really single.

And if you know me, or if you have read my profile, you know that I’m twenty-six. Twenty-six and single. Is that as depressing as it sounds? I have other friends from college in the same boat. Even a couple that are still living at home, like me. (If you read my earlier posts about jobs it should be abundantly clear that I do not make enough to afford rent and other utilities.)

Most of the time I don’t mind being single. I’ve lived with it for a long time. I like my independence. But I happen to be an incurable romantic. If you look at my favorite movies list, you’ll see a few chick flicks in there. I have more. I am a SAP. When I watch movie and TV shows, I hope that the main characters fall in love and find happiness by then end. I’m a “shipper:” I root for certain couples to get and/or stay together. (Sidebar: some of my favorites include: Sydney and Vaughn from Alias; Bright and Hannah from Everwood; Sun and Jin from Lost; Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione from Harry Potter; and Han and Leia from Star Wars.)

The Point: My Independence and my Hopeless Romantic-ness are quite often at odd with each other. Yes, I’d like to find someone and settle down. Yes, I’d like to get married and have a few kids someday. But I’m afraid I have too many unrealistic expectations planted in my head by my favorite sappy movies. I’m also afraid that some of the standards and things I’m looking for in a guy just aren’t ever going to come together. Deep down I think I do believe that there is a guy out there suited for me just as I am for him, whether or not he happens to be a Scottish, guitar-playing, intellectual, funny, adventurous Christian man. But some days it just seems like I’ll be stuck being labeled “single” forever. It wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to me, but it’s not what I’m hoping for.

But don’t you dare recommend E-harmony to me.