appreciating my bonnet

I love Jim Elliot's quote, "Let not our longing slay the appetite of our living." I feel like I do this on a daily basis. Well, the opposite of what he says, that is. I let my longing for more time or more rest or better relationships or further wants fog up my perception of what is in the here and now.

I met with Julia last night in the courtyard room and we ate gnocchi with sundried tomatoes and it was wonderful. We had a beautiful conversation circling around several different subjects, but one stuck out to me more then the rest. I was telling her about how I was feeling mildly stressed out with the constant theatre rehearsals for The Crucible and how I felt as if I never had time to just rest and let my mind stretch itself out in preparation for the next thing. So here I am jabbering on about how I wish this could be this way and that one thing is completely unnecessary and she just looks at me and says, "Lauren, I know it's difficult to have such long periods of time booked away. But don't you see? This is your ministry."

I realized right then that I was completely and utterly letting my longing slay my appetite for living. I was looking at my neverending rehersals as a hinderance to possible ministry opportunities and quality time with my friends, but I had never viewed it as a circumstance to grow my relationships with the other actors and focus on some of their needs.

There are so many aspects of life that I simply need to shift my attitude about. And whether that be doing dishes in my room or wearing a bonnet and Puritan costume for the play hardly makes a difference. I want to live my life in the present and take advantage of every opportunity He presents me with. Amazing realizations and mountain-top feelings aren't in His mode...He is certainly capable of them and He does occasionally choose to bless us with them, but it's in the everyday plodding of life that He makes Himself known.

we are so tired of meaning nothing

So I'm sitting up in the Alpha Center on the fourth floor of Naz in the far left hand corner (so basically in a tower). There are no tutees for us to tutor today so I have much time available for unfinished homework and introspection.

It was still dark outside when I left my dorm this morning. I went to catch the shuttle at approximately 7:44am, and I missed it by a minute. Usually when you miss the shuttle on the front side of the building, you can quick run down three flights of stairs and make it out to the other side in time to catch the bus at the street corner. However, even though I practically slid down those steps (epitome of gracefulness) I reached the corner too late.

Luckily the other shuttle from Arden stopped in the middle of the street to let me on and the bus driver asked in his oldish way if I needed a ride. Why yes I do.

Well anyway, I made it. And now I have to share this poem submitted to the Inkstone by one of the most dear women I have met. This one can be felt:


We Are So Tired of Meaning Nothing
Ashley Beck

That was the summer we strung moments together
recklessly and pinned them to walls in a room
with no windows. We were strategic.

I wanted to take pictures of every place we sat:
the back of the laundromat with the fake flowers,
the bench behind the cheap resort,
the red table outside the drive-in restaurant.
Important, empty places.

I can tell you there was a war going on,
but don't ask me to distinguish premature
moment from premature moment.
The days meld together like warm blood:
I forgot to write them down.

Your lips are taut; smoke dances around them. I lie
in the dirt next to the curb just so you'll tell me to get
up. A debauched haze interrupts the skyline. Here,
there are no stars. I ask, "Why are you so calm?"
"Because when you're this way, I have to be."

We are nervous people.

my heart vs. my throat

"The tree that grows where tempests toss its boughs and bend its trunk often almost to breaking, is often more firmly rooted than the tree which grows in the sequestered valley where no storm ever brings stress or strain. The same is true of life. The grandest character is grown in hardship." - Mrs. Cowman

Something about having grand character appeals to me. But I forget that every single time I go through something even a bit straining. When life is really just bothering me, I feel as if my mood, let alone my character, is no where near grand or appealing. Why is it that every time I read something like this, it makes perfect sense in my mind...but then when I'm living it, I feel as if the world is going to implode?

Maybe I need to stick post-it notes up all over the place. On my desk, on my mirror, on my computer, completely around my phone...so that I don't get so caught up in the worldliness of the world and I remember Him. When my 'wants' blow away and my concept of normal fails, I feel as though I almost intentionally let everything else drown out God.

My mind is so stubborn. Or maybe my heart. Or is it my heart? We learned in Anthropology today that this tribe in South America considers the throat to be the center of the human. If a person loses the ability to speak, they are considered dead. Everything circles around the throat in their culture, just as everything circles around the heart in ours. I wonder if they consider their throat to be the center of all their emotions too...like when a family loses a loved one, do their throats break? That seems like such a violent picture, but then again, a heart breaking could be pretty gruesome too.

Well, from now on, I'm going to will my mind, or heart, or throat or whatever it is, to acknowledge God next time I am all disoriented. When I can't make sense of my day, when it feels immature to discuss it, when nothing of importance happens all week - that is when I need to consult the Lord.

move

my phone is off indefinitely.
in the meantime, "Move" by Jonathan Elias and various tunes from Andrew Bird's 'Noble Beast' have been filling some time.

even greater things

So I'm reading this book called Compelled by Love and I came upon this quote by Mother Teresa,

"Today it is very fashionable to talk about the poor. Unfortunately, it is not fashionable to talk with them."

I feel like we talk about the homeless and those who have less and loving our roommates like Christ would and tithing and selflessly giving but how often do we actually follow through with our speech? I guess I've just been so convicted of this lately...and it truly annoys me because I look at what I'm typing right now and this is yet another form of simply "talking" about it...this thought holds no merit unless I actually go out and do something about it.

Specifically referring to the poor, I am called, as a Christian, to go out and feed the hungry and clothe the naked. John 14:12 says,

"I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father."

Are you kidding me? I must've heard this verse a hundred times during my private, Christian school upbringing but I have never truly listened to what this claims. I always have stopped with the thought that I could never accomplish even close to what Jesus did in His lifetime. His miracles were much too lofty, much too momentous for me to ever attempt. It's like looking at an ocean stretching for miles and not even attempting to stick my toe in as I could never possibly swim the length or breadth. But is that a reason to not swim at all?

This verse says we will do even MORE then Jesus did. We will do greater things than the Son of God did on this earth. Why the heck am I simply sitting around waiting for things to be dropped in my lap? I cannot possibly have an excuse now that I've seen this verse.

discarding monochrome

So a few days ago, my phone passed on. And when I say passed on I mean my phone of three, faithful years crossed over the great divide officially. My actual phone was okay, but the charger port inside wouldn't accept a charge any longer; slowly but surely the battery drained and then she was gone. (Why are ships and cars and phones and things always referred to as 'shes'?)

Anyways, at first, I was mildly frustrated. There were several people I had been in mid-conversation with and several that I had felt I needed to get a hold of later...and since I've been so dependent on my cell as of late, I had barely any numbers memorized. I have to be honest, I felt a bit despondent, and the fact that I couldn't contact any of my friends for whatever reason did nothing to elevate my feeling. The next morning I got up (using my actual alarm clock with the ugly beep instead of the ringtone on my phone), went to class all day, and made my way back to my dorm - all without my cherished cell phone.

I remember specifically walking back from Statistics class and thinking, "This is different, I can actually hear myself." I was thinking my thoughts thouroughly, without reservation. The sky was grey and it was drizzly outside. The weather matched my mood, but then my viewpoint switched entirely. Sometimes, I wake up and its overcast and raining out, and right then I decide that today is a gloomy day. It feels lonely to walk outside and something ominous is always coming. The woods look creepy instead of lovely and everyone walks with their hoods up and their faces towards the sidewalks. Other murky days, I climb out of bed and the grey feels soft. Something straight from Seattle and I enjoy my umbrella and feel that a cup of coffee is necessary.

At any rate, my viewpoint of this colorless day shifted thoroughly. To the soft kind. I realized that in this separation from constant contact with others, that my thoughts turned themselves inside out. Instead of grazing through my day - wake up, class, homework, practice, go to bed - I would come to a thought and actually think it through, instead of skimming over it. My thoughts had color and corners. It was a type of solitude I had never really experienced before. It wasn't isolation by any stretch; I could talk to any one person at any given moment. But this was a solitude within myself. I had no reason to check my texts, or wonder if anyone had called, or if there was anywhere I needed to be. The option wasn't available, so I began to disconnect it from my mind.

It struck me as a bit absurd that this was how it always was no less then thirty years ago...and now, our generation is so unknowingly subject to our communications. I hadn't even realized how completely wrapped up I was in that little thing and how, undisclosed to myself, I constantly kept a tiny thought off to the side of my mind to further check my phone.

To be honest, the whole thing truly annoyed me and since I had no one else at my immediate disposal, I turned to the One whom I should have been addressing the entire time. I felt as if my thoughts had been washed clean of their constancy and could wholly come before the Lord without distraction. He brought to my realization how much I credit toward others and how sustained I am by fellowship. Interdependence is necessary, but hardly a reason to not come to Him first. This whole ordeal puts merit to my utter humanness, for which I must daily appeal.

I think I'm going to leave my phone in my dorm tomorrow.