Post Post Office Ramblings, aka "The Milkshake Made Me Do It"

Two full weeks and one day later, I turned in my badge and quit the postal service. I promptly purchased a celebratory milkshake at Sheetz along with a few Reese's cups, and for that I apologize to you, my voluntary audience. Judge me gently for what follows - there is no plan, and I'm on a sugar high like you've never seen.

Before this summer when I thought of the USPS, I don't know what came to mind. Definitely the cranky lady who delivers our mail - it's not our fault that Zelienople denied our plea to be part of their city - and a lot of bored-looking clerks sitting behind counters. Maybe the mailman from Christy, he always made me smile...

"Beautiful, ain't it! Just been told us by the gov-ment in Washington. Now looky here, I figure that if rain or snow, nor none of those things are meant to stay us couriers, then we shorely can't have no gal-woman stayin' us."

Nothing I've ever seen prepared me for the "Logistics and Distribution Center." I know that shows my age and inexperience, because my father isn't at all surprised when I describe the machines we work with. Maybe some of you would be surprised, too, if you walked into that rush and clatter. Semi trailers docking, unloading, loading, and departing at more than 60 doors are just the beginning - five sorting machines, and an army of people just like us either feeding machines or sorting packages manually. I've gained an appreciation and healthy respect for conveyor belts, one that grows every time I finish a shift.

So my world has been made a little bigger, in the most basic sense, by this little brush with industry. Did you know that it costs less to ship almost anything through the Post Office than any of the other shipping companies? True story. I've learned a lot of other things, too...

For example, I always thought that when Quentin Tarantino put language in his films, he was being hyperbolic. People don't actually cuss that much, right? WRONG. They really, really do. They swear when they're upset, when they want you to do something differently, when they're frustrated, tired, stressed, or injured.

They also swear when they're happy, in the middle of normal conversations, when they're joking, indifferent, or have nothing better to do. It's ridiculous.

Then there's unions. I've watched North and South and I'm pretty well-read in Pittsburgh's history - I have half an idea of why unions exist and, even, why they're important. I'm grateful that union labor regulations require the post office to give us 15 minute breaks every two hours and a half-hour lunch (even if it is off the clock). What I don't understand is... well, everything else about them. And how casual employees survive as long as some of them do - we do roughly twice the work at half the pay, with no hope of improving our position and desperate not to be fired.

Of course, you also have to be careful, because there are two ways to yourself kicked out - not working enough, or working too hard. The best advice that I should have followed earlier in my casual employee career was "Sometimes working smart means working dumb." There's no way we're a threat to union jobs, but if a regular decides they don't like you they will make your life hell.

Oh the things I could say... but I'm coming off that high and realizing how pointless this post is. So what's the deal? What's the moral of this story?

First, never assume you know what you're getting into. When in doubt, don't ask a supervisor, ask another casual so you can look dumb together. Never volunteer for extra hours, because if they don't keep you today, they'll keep you tomorrow. Don't pull the mask off the Lone Ranger, and never, never, eat off of the break room table.

The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote...

It's a bit late in the game to be writing this, but among the lessons I have learned at the Post Office is one about Christmas. And I am starting this with 12 minutes left in that blessed day, so I consider myself justified in attempting it, at the very least.

I have been known, among family and close friends, as a Grinch. In some ways it is a wonder that certain of my friends are still my friends, considering their devotion to the holiday. I am fine with the idea of Christmas, particularly when riding the cheery wave of Thanksgiving celebrations, but as the day draws closer I become grouchy and unhappy, and thus much more difficult to live with. I have many excuses for this behavior, but I'll only give you a few:

I have sometimes chosen to explain that I am disappointed by the blatant materialism of the holiday as most of us celebrate it, buying things that no one really needs and that they could just as easily buy for themselves (or that they will exchange so they can buy that other thing they really want). We treat it as everybody's birthday: it's very expensive, and the only people who really benefit are those in marketing.

 Or, I could say that the expectations stress me out. Christmas is supposed to be a cheerful time, full of time-honored traditions and merry-making with friends. Traditions and "merry-making" do not translate into our culture so well - we all want to have all of the traditions and negotiating the making of "merry" with friends with different schedules who are likewise involved in the keeping of all traditions is far too difficult. To top it off, the expectation of cheerfulness makes my sin nature rear up and say, "What? Cheerful? Well, now I'll be the farthest thing from it. On principle."

Finally, what is up with the music? 94.5FM plays only Christmas music from the day after Thanksgiving until the New Year, and while I appreciate their devotion, I swear there are only 20 Christmas songs in the whole world. They are all cheerful. They all talk about traditions that most of us don't have but wish we did (Yule Logs, White Christmas, a real life belief in Santa Clause, or the ubiquitous "sleigh-ride" that no longer has a wide-spread cultural context), which contributes to the stress mentioned in my last example.

On a more personal note, Christmas songs are all about the good old days and the people that we remember. I don't like to miss people. I want them to be here with me. Auld Lang Syne - since when is that a cheerful song? I don't want to miss "auld acquaintance," I don't want them to be gone in the first place.

So. That's the sort of thing I say. I admit I did some grinching this year, and I'm sure my friends and co-workers could give you some great examples, but working at the post office changed that a bit for me.

It's strange that transitioning from school to the night shift at a distribution center could do it. To be honest, when I took the job I breathed a sigh of relief - if I was working 72hr. weeks (as I was told I would be), I could take the holiday in small doses and hide from it when I wanted to. I felt that way right up until my second shift, when I saw the first package covered in colorful paper with the North Pole as the return address. And then the next day I got to do a manual sort - Christmas cards galore, from real people to real people. Lots of mail to APO addresses (that is, military mail), international packages, oddly shaped packages, coconuts from Hawaii pretending to be real packages.


In case you're wondering, you should never put Santa as the return addressee. I have seen too many packages go into limbo because of incomplete or torn addresses and an illegitimate return address. 

It is odd to think that this job, where anonymity is the name of the game, is the one that made me want to spend time with the people who know me, no matter how much stress comes along with it. The postal service is pretty darn quick - inspired by the mail I was sorting, I bought Christmas cards for some of my best friends, wrote notes in them during breaks, and mailed them two days before the big day, fairly sure that they would make it in time - but the extra time, the extra thought required to buy, package, mail, and be on time gave me some hope for this country and our traditions.

I haven't renounced Grinching altogether, and I probably won't until someone decides to write the modern equivalent of the sleigh song and put it to a melancholy tune, but I have made an effort to look for the opportunities in the holiday instead of the deficiencies. So far it's working, and I'm taking advantage of my day off to be with the people I love.

Merry Christmas, to my readers, my non-readers, and the people who play Springstein's version of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" on the radio ad nauseum. It's not about the stuff, it's not about the cheer, it's about the people. Start a new tradition, one that's about words and time and hours spent "unproductively." It will do wonders for your holiday experience.

Musings from the Post Office

Happy December 22nd from the United States Post Office! That's right, my Christmas break plans included rejoining the ranks of "casual" postal employees. It's a bit of a disappointing transition from the rush and bustle of finals week - along with all its celebration and study and friendship - to the rattle and hum of a distribution center, but my bank account and future plans tell me that it's necessary.

Every time I get off an 8...9...12 hour shift I have to give myself a little pep talk about resigning my appointment, as in, convincing myself I shouldn't. Tempting as it is to turn in my badge and spend two weeks doing nothing, I have to remember that this is valuable, not only because it pays better than anything else I could be doing over break, but because of the things I learn from it.

For instance, just yesterday as I was talking myself out of quitting it occurred to me that I really am spoiled. My little sister says I work too much, and I'll admit that the transition from a school day to the night shift was ill-conceived, but at the same time... this is what real people do. Real people have real jobs that don't end the second week of December and resume in mid-January, with nothing between but reading and cookie-making. Real people put in hours when they would rather be at home loving their families or soaking their aching feet or planning Christmas shopping. Real people have to say "no" to good things on a daily basis because there is less appealing life stuff that must be done - and I shouldn't hide from being a real person.

I got off my shift early today and thus found myself wandering around Walmart at 3am hoping I would be struck by brilliant gift ideas. I didn't get any, unfortunately, but I was struck by the number of employees that were also there at 3am, restocking shelves and sweeping isles. Here in America our standards for customer service are pretty high, and I wonder how often we overlook the people who are right there, doing the things that must be done - especially during the holidays. They're men and women made in the image of God and doing their best.

 I tried to pretend I wasn't there (difficult, when I was one of five customers in the whole store) and stayed out of their way, but I couldn't help but think that they and I were both suffering through the same graveyard shift experience. I looked down at my painting jeans and work shirt, evenly covered with "priority dust" and realized that I'm not anything special because I'm in grad school. I'm just a Walmart employee. I'm just a postal employee. I'm just a member of the working class... and I could show them a little more respect. Maybe you could too?

In the beginning

Nothing interesting has popped up from the Washington Post (not personally interesting, anyway) except for the news that "Donald Trump fires himself as his own debate moderator." Thank goodness for that, but was it really alert-worthy? Therefore, this may be a shocking change of pace, but I wanted to make some comments on the Bible. I'm in a recently started Bible study with some other Higher Ed girls and we've decided to go through the Gospel of John, one chapter a week.

A few semesters ago I took a class with Dr. Shidemantle on the Gospel of John, so it is a different experience for me: each week I feel both informed and unprepared, because the more I "know" about the book or chapter, the more aware I am that my self-sufficient attitude needs to be checked at the door. Or at the Italian leather binding. I want to record some of my new insights, the things I notice this time around, and I hope that anyone who reads this will be encouraged.

The Gospel of John
First, it is helpful to know that although this book is traditionally believed to have been written by the Apostle John (who also wrote the three epistles of John and the Revelation), he is never identified in the text. The closest the author comes to mentioning himself is with the phrase "the disciple whom Jesus loved." We accept the authorship of the Apostle because of the strength of church tradition, but also because of some of the literary styles and themes within the text.

Second, a reader should pay attention to a few themes in the text. One is the juxtaposition of life and death - Jesus is shown to be and offer a life that is more than tissue, bone and fluid, which he gives freely. Another is the importance of signs in this gospel - several of Jesus' miracles are specifically identified as "signs," and each can be matched with a specific discourse where Jesus makes the greater purpose of that sign more clear to his followers. Finally, imagery in the text repeatedly presents traditional Jewish worship and shows Jesus fulfilling the promises and symbols so pervasive to the religion.

This gospel is believed to have been written between 60-80AD. Some claim that John was predicting the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple and others that he was writing in its aftermath. Either way, it is clearly an evangelical book and targeted at Jews who were (or soon would be) confused about the end of their traditional temple worship structures. This persuasive purpose is found in John 20:30-31

Jesus did many other miraculous signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name. (NIV)

John 1
The prologue (1:1-18) is poetic and therefore always hits my emotions pretty hard, but this time the emotional impact carried throughout the chapter. The prologue begins with the well-known phrase "In the beginning," recalling the dramatic introduction to the book of Genesis. With regard to the themes I mentioned, all three are found in the prologue: we are told that "the Word" (Jesus) is both light and life, true light and truth. We are told that through "the Word" we have received one blessing after another, not the least of these the disclosing of his glory through the incarnation and other miraculous signs. Finally, we are told that "the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us" (1:14); the phrase "made his dwelling" could also be translated "he tabernacled" among us, recalling the wilderness era temple and offering "the Word" as a living substitute for that structure. The rest of the chapter jumps right into the story, where we hear from John the Baptist (who was introduced in the prologue), meet Jesus, and watch Jesus call his first disciples.

These are all the sorts of things that I knew coming into the reading of this passage. This time as I read it, what really struck me was the timing of it all. The very fact that this gospel has a prologue informs one that John wrote with a knowledge of the end. He, and some of those he writes to, have personal experience with the rest of the story - this is clear from verse 16: "From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another." We are reminded why we care about one man's story, or why we should care, if we do not: because Jesus' story is not the story of one man but the repetition of a call as old as time and a vision as beautiful as the first sunrise: full of grace and truth.

I'm a sucker for a good epic. I can admit that books like The Lord of the Rings and the Wheel of Time series can catch and hold my attention for hours at a time because I love to follow characters through their interaction with the ancient and sacred in search of purpose. John's prologue does this for me as well. But there is more to it than a simple epic, and the moment we are invited to take part in is more than one more character's realization of the small part they play in history. "The Word became flesh" in a specific moment. Grace and truth and the face of God were made known to us in a specific time and place and no one but Jesus could have been that person - Jesus' life is the turning point in history, and that is why we care to read this.

Going forward (in the chapter) to the more literal, historical testimony of John the Baptist and the call of the disciples, that ancient desire for transcendence and purpose is still there. The Baptist's self-description come from an ancient prophet (Isaiah): "I am the voice of one calling in the desert, 'Make straight the way for the Lord'" (John 1:23), and he describes Jesus using sacrificial Old Testament imagery when he calls him "the Lamb of God." But their relationship - John the Baptist and Jesus' - is the most striking one. The Baptist says "This is the one I meant when I said, 'A man who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me'" (1:30). Jesus and the Baptist were cousins, and even before he was born the Baptist recognized the presence of his Lord in Mary's womb. Their history and God's revelation enabled the Baptist to loudly proclaim that the past and the future were melded and completed in this man, this God-made-known.

So Jesus has been identified as the one who is eternal, who was from the beginning and is here to make God's face known. This prior knowledge extends to the people he would call as his disciples. He knows what they want to know in addition to what they ask about. We are told that he found Phillip, and that he knew where Nathanael was before he arrived. Each of the disciples receives their savior's invitation (or call) in a personal way, even if some of them do not understand - how long was it between Jesus' renaming of Simon (to Cephas, or "rock") and his statement in Matthew 18 that "on this rock I will build my church"?

So what?
I love the literary power of this book, its repetition and the themes that have begun to weave their way through it. There is so much more that I could say about each section and each verse, but I want to give myself and you, my readers, a chance to respond. What do you think?

While it is beautiful - and good for my soul - to remember that Jesus was the turning point of a history that has a beginning (and eventually an end), how do I respond to it? The greatest struggle for me, and possibly for some of you, is that this is reminder of the knowledge of God - do you see how well Jesus knew his disciples, before he met them? This is true for us as well. He knows everything about us, the most hidden sins and insecurities, and if you focus on that it can be terrifying.

But that's not where our focus should be. Do you think that John chose to tell this story this way so that we would be constantly reminded that there's nowhere to hide and therefore paralyzed in fear? Certainly not! Remember that Jesus knew ahead of time the doubts and sins of his disciples and, knowing those things he chose them anyway. It was not for the perfect that the Word became flesh, but for love. Grace and truth came so that we could receive one blessing after another instead of wallowing in our own fear.

What do you think?

LGBT: Is it really our job?

I just got a news alert from the Washington Post online, a publication that I was encouraged to begin reading as a part of a political science requirement during college. This most recent alert was a link to an article: "Obama orders U.S. diplomats to increase efforts to fight LGBT discrimination abroad." The article doesn't provide much commentary except to say that President Obama is strengthening his argument that he "has done more to end the ostracism experienced by the LGBT community, at home and abroad, than his predecessors."


I get that President Obama wants support in the next election, and I believe that violence against any person because of differences in belief or behavior is wrong. However, I have to ask, why is it our country's job, or our ambassadors' job, to take on this issue in other countries? Or, if we're going to talk about changing other countries' justice systems ("combat the criminalization"), why must we specify that those helped belong to the LGBT community? Is there some principle that gives us the right to interfere on this community's behalf instead of any other marginalized community?


In the interest of full disclosure, I admit that would probably be considered politically conservative, although I tend toward the libertarian viewpoint - our government has too many fingers in too many pies, and it really doesn't seem to be fixing much. If this is true in our own country, where the struggle with racial violence and extreme economic need is far from over, how much do we really believe we can - or should - do in other countries? And based on the American experience with government policies enforced through bureaucracy, why was this memo "immediately celebrated by gay and lesbian leaders" as if words on a paper (or email) are enough to begin real change?


It seems to me that although President Obama's memo may indicate a genuine desire to help oppressed and marginalized people "at home and abroad," it also reveals his assumption that the American people can be distracted. By a memo. Is this serious? Why is a memo to international ambassadors enough to be called a "political news alert"? Probably because reporting on the ABSOLUTE SILENCE surrounding so many other issues wouldn't be sensationalist enough for our news media. Maybe we should make it so. Make a noise for the problems that aren't trendy enough to make it on the evening news.


But that's a whole new set of soap-boxes. The questions I have are these: Are we convinced that it is our job to change the culture of other countries, and if so, why would we choose this one group instead of so many others? Can the American people really not see that words put on a page by a politician always have a double meaning? There is so much more that is always left unsaid.


Of all of the things that we could do, is this really our job?

Note to Self: Too much pop culture?

I just finished season two of the CW's Supernatural. Unfortunately, I don't have access to season three at the moment, so I have to take a 24-hour break before I can continue feeding my obsession. I should have known better than to start a show with multiple back-seasons in the middle of the semester, but I thought it couldn't hurt. It's nice to take a break from my life and see someone else's is even more messed up.

Then again, there's something attractive about Dean and Sam's life. Sure, they're hot, bad-A brothers fighting demons (both literal and metaphorical) and winning, but beyond that I envy the freedom they have. There are so many things they don't have to be or worry about, Sam can study whatever and whenever, they have an awesome car, and there's a big wide American interstate network for them to explore.

On the other hand, both of their parents are dead and their lives are in constant danger, but what is that compared to freedom and enjoying that kind of family loyalty? No matter how many hours Dean makes Sam listen to 80's metal (possibly my first buy-in to Dean's character), in the end you know that they would die for each other. Perhaps I'm living out my hopes and dreams vicariously through the Winchester brothers. Somebody get me season three!

I can admit that I have a problem of the addictive sort when it comes to pop culture, but I'll argue that part of my enthusiasm comes from a fascination with American storytelling. This show is a great example - taking on the myths and legends of the unseen world is a pretty tall order, and they've been at it for seven seasons. Every now and again there's a creepy episode (usually involving children) that I wish they hadn't tackled, but just like with Buffy, I'm glad that someone is taking on the question of evil.

So what's the point? I watch the shows because I'm caught up in some part of the characters, but I also love seeing the way they tell the stories, the way heroes are made and destroyed. Sometimes it makes me sad for my generation, but other times it teaches me to hope. (I wonder whether they tackle the question of God, and of good, more in the next few seasons... no, don't tell me, I can imdb it if the suspense gets to be too much.) Maybe it can inspire a few more people to fight demons - in any sense. And that would make it all worth it.

Oh, and along with that note to self... take a flashlight next time you take the garbage out post -season finale. A real hunt always starts with casualties and, well, you're the casualty type :P

the box in the corner

I've been thinking a lot about my semester in Los Angeles lately, probably because that was the last time I really made an effort to write. LA wasn't something that anyone I knew expected me to do, and although no one was against it, per se, no one was very "for" it. I distinctly remember having a conversation with Uncle Wayne before I left: I told him what the program was about and why I was planning on attending. He was surprisingly attentive, and he only had one thing to say when I was done - "That's great. I'm really proud of you."

I remembered that many times while I was gone. Sometimes it was that moment that gave me the courage to explore the city, approach strangers outside of the studios or even get in the car to go to church. Fear plays a huge role in my life (and, I think, in any life), and when the going was toughest I would remember that Uncle Wayne was proud of me. Knowing that at least one person had my back made me able to engage in a community wildly different than the one I was used to.

I've also been thinking a lot lately about our culture and wondering whether a culture so devoted to independence could spend a little more time looking into what the word actually means. How many times as a child were you told "you can be anything you want to be"? Even if it wasn't your parents, I'd bet good money that there was at least one TV show or song in your childhood dedicated to you being "all you can be."

There are lots of negatives to that particular message, but the one I want to bring to light is the fact that independence done well is a lot more about autonomy than it is about libertarian independence. When our parents were telling us to dream, did they ever stop to ask yourself what happens when we can't be "anything" we want to be? What happens if it turns out that we can't be... anything? Don't pretend that that never happens, because it does. And what happens when we don't want to be anything like you want us to be?

You may have noticed that our generation is obsessed with connectedness. Being connected to people is a great thing, but I don't think we know how to do it well. In his book Hurt, Chap Clark suggests that the experience of adolescents in America is characterized by abandonment and disconnectedness - it's no wonder that we want community, but it is equally unsurprising that we don't know how to do community. We've never had a model, and how can we imagine "all we can be" when such a big part of us is missing?

It's not about people not genuinely caring about us, but it's a distracted kind of caring. Does this resonate with your experience in the world? Instead of being loved, our generation is managed. Instead of being inspired to greatness, we're being herded to it. We all believe that we should dream, and that we should dream big. Most of us do those things, but when it comes down to living the dream, we're stuck. At least, that has been my experience. The dreams are there, the ideals of beauty and justice and truth, but they just can't seem to come out.

When I was in LA I drove around the city, visited studios, walked the streets barefoot. My roommates and I had movie nights, midnight pancakes and liked to wander The Grove, or sometimes walk to Yogurtland after midnight. We had a good thing going - living and learning and looking to a bright future. But most importantly, I did my own grocery shopping. It seems like a very small thing, but every time I put away groceries I remembered that being there was part of my dream. Lots of people were behind me - I was most certainly not "independent - but I learned to live with autonomy.

Funny story: I still have the cardboard box that I filled with the remaining non-perishable foods from our apartment. Now that I'm living at home again, it sits in the corner of my room. It's my little nudging reminder, when the commute starts to wear on me, that I did it once and I can do it again. More people should have experiences like that to look back on.

Asking for Prayer

I know no one reads this, but it seems a little less fluffy to blog than to simply update my status.

My best friend is in college in Texas. I don't know if you saw it on the news or read it anywhere, but there was a bus accident involving ACU students on Friday. One student died and more were hospitalized. Tiffany was one that was hospitalized. She has a broken pelvis and ankle, soreness on her right side, two neck fractures and bleeding in her brain. They moved her out of the ICU last night or this morning.

Did you know that a round-trip ticket from here to Abilene is $600-700? I hate hospitals, and I hate my friends being in hospitals, and I hate being far from the people I love, but it seems like I have to sit this one out.

God doesn't, of course, so I'll be praying. If you read this, please let me know you're praying too.

Petition for a Dress Code

"Wherefore comfort yourselves together, and edify one another."

I Thessalonians 5:11

If you're anything like me (although I hope you're not, there's a chance) and were raised in a conservative Christian home with a conservative Christian community surrounding you, you are no stranger to rules. Rules about how you speak, about how you address adults, about how you spend Sunday, and definitely rules about how you dress. I won't reiterate all of the homeschooler stereotypes, but if you're anything like me... you know what I'm talking about.

Today The Geneva Cabinet ran an article written by a friend of mine titled "Petition for a Dress Code." I don't think anyone claims an immense campus readership for the Cabinet, but this article caught some attention. "[It is] the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen" and "[the article] is growing from a condescending perspective" are among the comments I have seen so far. I want to respond to the article, but also to other students' assumptions about it. I don't think Aaron was saying what you thought he was saying.

1) The headline offered to the article was provocative and clearly garnered attention. However, if you take a minute to read the whole thing, you'll see that he says "Instead of pushing for a true dress code, I have been advised to ask for help from the ladies, to make your own dress code." He doesn't want the school to make more rules for us, he is simply asking us to think about what we're wearing.

2) I don't believe that what we choose to wear is value-free - I think that just like we decide to lie or not, or to cuss or not, or to scowl at everyone we see during the day, we cannot say that our clothes are just fashion choices. We can probably all agree that some clothing is appropriate in certain scenarios and not in others. So maybe he has a point about evaluating our wardrobe decisions.

That being said, here's what I'm thinking: I don't think that Aaron's letter told the whole story. If we're going to talk about appropriate dress, I'd like to see the other half of the campus population alerted to the fact that modesty is not just an issue for women. People don't often mention men's clothes because they have so much less variety, but maybe, like me, you would consider jeans two sizes too small, v-neck shirts that show off half your chest-hair, or six inches of exposed boxers a bit of a problem in the male wardrobe world.

Like I said, I don't think Aaron's letter told the whole story, and it's clear that this is a topic that pushes buttons for a lot of people, especially people who have been hurt by the judgment of other Christians in the past. But I don't think we can let personal prejudices like that blind us to two important things: First, treat Aaron with respect, because if you read his letter you'll see that he treats you (the reader) with respect. Second, instead of responding negatively, why don't we face the real question - as Christians, what are we saying with our clothes? Is it something we want to be saying, and is it glorifying God?

I'm not here to make a dress code, but I think that it raises a good question. How do you respond? How do you think we can edify each other, as we are told to in I Thessalonians, on this subject? And how can our apparel glorify God?

"So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do for the glory of God"

I Corinthians 10:31

Little Fictions

Congratulations on your graduations, everyone in the Class of 2011! Of course, this could mean that I am congratulating myself, but sometimes that's appropriate. Also, I primarily mean for this to celebrate high school graduates - particularly those brave enough to admit that they don't know what they're doing next.

I went to two parties yesterday (yay Josiah and Alex, if you ever read this), and today our whole family packed up and took off to Ohio for the afternoon to party with Emelia and the Denggs. My family. There was good food, some games (which I observed rather than joining), wine tasting (thank you, Uncle Mark, for homemade wine:), and conversation. It is the last of these which left me curious and conflicted, and about which I will write here.

Grandpa Dengg loves me very much. I suppose I have been very blessed to have known all four of my grandparents (5, if you count C and T's grandma, Aldean), and to know that they loved me. I am even more blessed to still have Grandpa Dengg, to have him send cards and try to find out what's going on in my life. The only problem is that he doesn't remember so well - today he called me over so he could tell Aunt Pat what I'm doing right now, and he said that I was shoeing horses.

Before you laugh at the ridiculosity, I suppose you should know that that was in the plan. Quite a while ago, but still... it seemed like something I could do, and something that would pay well once I was through training. It would have fit right in with my life-plan of being a large animal veterinarian. He was really excited about it when we talked about it around Grandma's kitchen table 5 years ago.

It's harmless, I know, but I still wonder what to do with this. It happened at Easter, too. I just smile and say, "That was a few years ago..." and if people ask, I say that I spent a year on a Ranch after high school. True, but there was no actual shoeing involved. How does one tell one's grandfather that he is, in fact, mistaken about one's entire life-plan? Enlighten me, please.

This is really just at the foundation of a whole bunch of questions. When you graduate high school, you're supposed to know where you're going, what you're doing. Graduating college has the same implications - each step into maturity supposedly comes with a set of clearer instructions than the last one. But what if it doesn't? My experience has been that I become more aware of the opportunities and challenges ahead, but where I will actually end up becomes more vague.

More exciting, perhaps, but much more vague.

I spent a lot of my high school years with a false sense of certainty, and God worked long and hard to break me of it so that he could point me to the humanities rather than science. I have a great deal of respect for people who, at graduation, are courageous enough to admit that they are "undeclared." There's no shame in not knowing what God has no yet revealed, and it might save you from having to deal with some of the Little Fictions that could come up otherwise.

worth doing badly

Bold words to be followed by four months of silence. Again, I can only say that I am a coward whose braveness shines through only when I have had plenty of sleep and am particularly upset about something. But perchance courage is not what I should be seeking. Sometimes I wonder why I write at all, since no one will see or read these words, and anyone who does will likely not comment. But my advisor, Terry Thomas, has drilled this quote into my head in the last few weeks, and it has given me a new perspective.

A man must love a thing very much if he not only practises it without any hope of fame and money, but even practises it without any hope of doing it well. If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.
G.K. Chesterton

Do I believe this? Is writing and thinking and writing about my thinking something that I love enough to do badly, that I will share even though I fail? Apparently, since I have been journalling and blogging for nearly ten years. So I am back, yet again, free for the summer, and I hope to share happy thoughts here, as well as a few sad, and a few challenging, as the need arises.

As a brief update - I recently graduated, and am currently unemployed in Greenland. More like the Pittsburgh environs, but we've had enough rain for it truly to be a green land, although a massive flood may overtake us yet. I might be getting a job with the post office, having successfully navigated through the governmental hoops required for such a job. I sat in on a summer class just for fun, and I look forward to taking my first graduate class in two weeks. College grad that I am, I still don't know exactly where I am going or what I want to do.

We shall see how very much I love this thing worth doing...

... like coming home.

Long lost practice, this. Writing for someone besides myself. Not that anyone else reads what I write here, but it could happen, so I write for that person who probably exists at the end of my inductive argument...

It's odd that I haven't been here - even thought about being here - in eight months, and somehow I still agree with my purpose statement and want to continue it. The last year has been busy and beautiful and painful in its own ways, but the fact remains clear in my experience that Christians and churches continue to be poor representations of the glory of the gospel handed to us by God. We judge when we should show mercy, backpedal when we should speak truth, and huddle in our church buildings instead of going out to take on the brokenness of the world. If we believe that God has the power and the answers, why are we so timid and defensive?

I am no exception, obviously. I am a coward most of the time, and have a talent for offending people the rest of the time. But I can't improve unless I try, so here I am to try again. Where will my study of life lead me this year? I can't wait. Because I believe that God is powerful and wise, and changed lives don't happen in a vaccuum... here's a holler to the non-vaccuum out there. Yinz ready for this?