Things that we do differently in California:
1. wear sunscreen every. day.
2. hang your laundry out to dry
3. ride a bike every. where.
4a. wear layers or 4b. change clothes 3 times/day or 4c. suck it up when it's cold in the morning/evening
5. eat what's in season
Things that we don't do:
1. sweat
2. use the dryer
3. drive a car if unnecessary
4. shop at big chain grocery stores
5. turn on the AC
6. drink from the tap (because we're in the Central Valley and we don't want to end up like Erin Brokovich)
It's wonderful, but you know, I actually kinda miss St. Louis... the
humidity, the just-kind-of-ok produce, the allergies, the lower rates of
alzheimers, the highways and traffic. I'll be glad to get back :)
After I hike up the Half Dome, that is...
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Lewis
The following link was a delight to find in my facebook newsfeed this morning, per Robbie Griggs, the father of the family I've become good friends with who are moving to England this August.
Such a lovely little read. Lewis was truly a sweet, wonderful man...
C.S. Lewis' Letters to Children: On Writing
Such a lovely little read. Lewis was truly a sweet, wonderful man...
C.S. Lewis' Letters to Children: On Writing
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Whoa, California: Part II
11 am PST with a lovely morning to look back on. Ironically, my phone refuses to switch from CST to PST and therefore, when I set my alarm for 8 am this morning, I ended up waking at 6 am here. I got up, caught up on email, and went for a delightful little run in the chilly California morning air as I headed towards a fantastic mountain vista in the distance, after which I freshened up a bit and Edwina and I headed out towards the Davis Farmer's Market... on bikes, of course. My sweet Missouri piano-teacher tush is slowly getting used to the fact that it has to sit on a hard bike seat at least once or twice a day. Probably more than you want to know, but it is what it is. As Edwina says, "You're in Davis now, Katie. Your ass is just going to hurt for a week or so..." I also figured out how to snuggle my Starbucks cold cup between my shoulder-bag strap and my body so that I can still enjoy my iced coffee at stop signs and traffic lights during my new morning commute without spilling it in my bag or holding it the entire way :) Edwina is a pro though. She conducts half of her daily business on her cell phone while riding her bike, which is quite unfathomable to me.
The Farmer's Market: Whoa. I have never tasted peaches so sweet, as if the farmer injected them with sweetener before bringing them to market. Then we got distracted by the Greek stand where I ate half my morning breakfast in falafel and hummus samples at the urging of the stand owner. Whoa. They know how to do food here and they aren't shy about it. It is amazing and marvelous and ridiculous, which is one thing about Missouri that I have to concede: by comparison, our food is just kind of ok for the most part. In most cases, we have to work hard to make it truly extraordinary, although we do make wonderfully nice dessert wines out of seemingly random fruits (like blackberries and strawberries)... we're kind of forced to be resourceful in that way since we can't all have grapes growing outside our front doors. Here, everything is just naturally incredible on its own, especially when it's in season. And I asked Bobby and Edwina about why that is (which, they would know, since they're both studying specialized agricultural sciences here) and from what they tell me, it seems it all has to do with rainfall. Before he came to UC Davis, Bobby spent significant amounts of time farming and gardening in Missouri and he says that the soil in both places is essentially the same (clay), but that in California, the farmers know it won't rain. For instance, in Missouri, we store our hay in barns since the weather there changes like the tides of the female mind but here they just stack their hay bales (or alfalfa) out in the field because the likelihood of it randomly opening up and pouring down is extremely slight. Incredible.
Oh yeah... and here, rosemary grows in hedges... like everywhere. The people here who buy rosemary in markets must be completely out to lunch since they could walk out their front door and trim it off the hedge down the street, where it would go completely unnoticed. I also tried my first boysenberries here the other day. Holy cow, someone needs to make wine out of that...
One thing that does strike me as strange about this place is the people. California really is the land of fruits, nuts, and flakes... truly, there's a reason that joke exists. The people in Davis are very nice and extremely down-to-earth, very much like the people in Columbia. But whoa, San Francisco: holy cow, that city is full of strange people. Being there even for a day made me feel totally vanilla in comparison. I used to think that people in St. Louis were really authentic and down-to-earth, which they are... to a point. But I realize now that people in my town can be somewhat guarded in certain ways, which I think is actually good and healthy sometimes. It took me a while to adapt to that mentality when I first moved back after undergrad, but I now have a lot of respect for it and feel it's a lot easier to live and exist as a self-employed professional while operating in that mode. Business is business, personal is personal... and not everybody needs to know about the personal either. There's dignity in keeping the vault closed to most people. In San Francisco, if outer appearances are any indication of what's going on inside, it seems that everyone is on a perpetual quest to find themselves and in all sorts of unconventional ways, which is extraordinarily interesting (and I daresay hard?, considering what I come from...) to observe as an outsider, to say the least. I think I would rather live in a town full of people who think I'm crazy, rather than live in a town where everyone else seems to be crazy. But I speak in a horrible digression of terms which are completely relative... these are purely my own observations and speculations as a casual traveler, for what they're worth, if anything at all.
Not entirely sure, but "Moonrise Kingdom" looks like it might be on the docket today, since Bobby and Edwina haven't seen it yet. Edwina has also switched me over from Tevas to Chacos: she gave me a pair for my birthday. They are wonderful and I think more durable than my Tevas (which I can easily wear through in two summers) and I feel crunchier than ever when I wear them :)
More whoa to come from this mind-blowing part of the country: See you soon.
The Farmer's Market: Whoa. I have never tasted peaches so sweet, as if the farmer injected them with sweetener before bringing them to market. Then we got distracted by the Greek stand where I ate half my morning breakfast in falafel and hummus samples at the urging of the stand owner. Whoa. They know how to do food here and they aren't shy about it. It is amazing and marvelous and ridiculous, which is one thing about Missouri that I have to concede: by comparison, our food is just kind of ok for the most part. In most cases, we have to work hard to make it truly extraordinary, although we do make wonderfully nice dessert wines out of seemingly random fruits (like blackberries and strawberries)... we're kind of forced to be resourceful in that way since we can't all have grapes growing outside our front doors. Here, everything is just naturally incredible on its own, especially when it's in season. And I asked Bobby and Edwina about why that is (which, they would know, since they're both studying specialized agricultural sciences here) and from what they tell me, it seems it all has to do with rainfall. Before he came to UC Davis, Bobby spent significant amounts of time farming and gardening in Missouri and he says that the soil in both places is essentially the same (clay), but that in California, the farmers know it won't rain. For instance, in Missouri, we store our hay in barns since the weather there changes like the tides of the female mind but here they just stack their hay bales (or alfalfa) out in the field because the likelihood of it randomly opening up and pouring down is extremely slight. Incredible.
Oh yeah... and here, rosemary grows in hedges... like everywhere. The people here who buy rosemary in markets must be completely out to lunch since they could walk out their front door and trim it off the hedge down the street, where it would go completely unnoticed. I also tried my first boysenberries here the other day. Holy cow, someone needs to make wine out of that...
One thing that does strike me as strange about this place is the people. California really is the land of fruits, nuts, and flakes... truly, there's a reason that joke exists. The people in Davis are very nice and extremely down-to-earth, very much like the people in Columbia. But whoa, San Francisco: holy cow, that city is full of strange people. Being there even for a day made me feel totally vanilla in comparison. I used to think that people in St. Louis were really authentic and down-to-earth, which they are... to a point. But I realize now that people in my town can be somewhat guarded in certain ways, which I think is actually good and healthy sometimes. It took me a while to adapt to that mentality when I first moved back after undergrad, but I now have a lot of respect for it and feel it's a lot easier to live and exist as a self-employed professional while operating in that mode. Business is business, personal is personal... and not everybody needs to know about the personal either. There's dignity in keeping the vault closed to most people. In San Francisco, if outer appearances are any indication of what's going on inside, it seems that everyone is on a perpetual quest to find themselves and in all sorts of unconventional ways, which is extraordinarily interesting (and I daresay hard?, considering what I come from...) to observe as an outsider, to say the least. I think I would rather live in a town full of people who think I'm crazy, rather than live in a town where everyone else seems to be crazy. But I speak in a horrible digression of terms which are completely relative... these are purely my own observations and speculations as a casual traveler, for what they're worth, if anything at all.
Not entirely sure, but "Moonrise Kingdom" looks like it might be on the docket today, since Bobby and Edwina haven't seen it yet. Edwina has also switched me over from Tevas to Chacos: she gave me a pair for my birthday. They are wonderful and I think more durable than my Tevas (which I can easily wear through in two summers) and I feel crunchier than ever when I wear them :)
More whoa to come from this mind-blowing part of the country: See you soon.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Whoa, California: Part I
Whoa: California. This is the best word I can think of to sum it up best.
I got here late Tuesday night, picked up from the airport an hour and a half after my plane landed, seeing as how my friend Edwina (who is one of my dearest friends from the music school at Mizzou) and her boyfriend Bobby got back late from hiking in Yosemite. Go figure. We've hit the ground running ever since. With relatives still here from South Africa (a cousin, an aunt, and two adorable little-boy second cousins) for her graduation from UC-Davis with her masters, Edwina piled all of us into a rental van Wednesday morning and off we went to San Francisco for the day.
Again: Whoa.
The scenery and the weather here are, well... amazing. Edwina and Bobby (whom I'm also good friends with from our time together at Mizzou) complain about it being hot, but compared to Missouri summers, it is absolutely divine. Even though it's in the upper 80's and lower 90's during the day, it's soooo dry. And there's almost always a breeze blowing. And in San Francisco (by the bay), when the north wind whips in off the Pacific, you really almost feel... cold for a second, until it lets up and you feel the sunshine again. It's really the strangest sensation. Hot-cold, hot-cold, hot-cold. I sometimes feel like a 26-yr-old menopausal woman.
In the midwest, all the fields are the same: wheat, soybeans, or corn. Here, I had trouble recognizing the first field we drove by. And there are soooo many kinds of crops: almonds, walnuts, tomatos, apricots, oranges, alfalfa, olives, cherries... yesterday we bought cherries for $1.59 / lb. Incredible. And the sunset last night was unfathomable. Holy cow. The house we're staying in has a grapevine slowly making it's way along the courtyard arbor just outside the front door. And Davis has all sorts of bike paths all over the place, which makes it super easy to get around without driving. Today, I had a lovely mile-and-a-half ride into town to meet my gracious hosts and a relative or two for lunch. And oh yeah... it was fabulous. I've never been any place like this before. It is, in a word, incredible.
Yesterday I had lunch next to the Pacific at Fisherman's Wharf, after which we went down to the old arcade where I played on a baseball game machine from 1937. The game was unique in that it kept track of strikes, balls, and outs, and had all the names of the original players from the Yankee's World Series line-up from the year it was made. So. cool.
After that, we went to Ghirardelli's... you know, the chocolate company. Their factory / main headquarters is in San Francisco. And I had quite possibly the world's largest and richest hot fudge sundae ever. Edwina and I shared it, it being too big for either of us alone. Then we drove through the Golden Gate: wow. It's even better in person than it is in the pictures. The following picture does not do it justice. They say it's never done being painted. Apparently there's a crew of 30 or so people and all they do is paint the bridge. As soon as it's done on one side, they go back through and paint it all again. Wow.
It was roughly 7 pm by the time we got up there, and because of this 1. we got to see the fog start to roll in and 2. it was SUPER windy and cold. Felt like Missouri in March. Again: whoa. I definitely did not expect that one.
Oh yeah... and we saw Alcatraz from a distance. Edwina says we'll go back again before I leave so we can go in. And not only did we see Alcatraz, but we saw all kinds of busy activity that comes with being next to a bay. My favorite was the huge container ships that came in carrying literally hundreds of railway containers on board. This particularly hits home for me since my family has lived a block away from a train track for the past eight years and I've seen countless railway cars go through Old Monroe. The thought that they all get put on a ginormous ship and sail across the ocean absolutely blows my mind. I literally feel like I've followed them here from Old Monroe to see what the end of the track looks like for them.
This morning all but one of Edwina's relatives left. And so the whirlwind is over for the moment, but quite interesting while it lasted, seeing as how at least half of all yesterday's conversation was in Afrikaans, which I only ever understood the gist of when combined with hand gestures and a few choice words here and there. So. interesting. I spent half the day in my own world, wondering what was happening around me. And some of the cultural differences are incredible. But they are wonderful people and I have a standing invitation to go to South Africa whenever. Bobby wants to go there and be the first person to ever ride a giraffe, which I find completely hilarious since not only is there sure to be someone who's done that already, but also because the spine of a giraffe is a strict diagonal. But he's determined. I just think going would be an extraordinary adventure in and of itself. But we'll see... here we are at Fisherman's Wharf yesterday.
Whoa, California. Mind blown in only two days. And still two weeks to go :)
I got here late Tuesday night, picked up from the airport an hour and a half after my plane landed, seeing as how my friend Edwina (who is one of my dearest friends from the music school at Mizzou) and her boyfriend Bobby got back late from hiking in Yosemite. Go figure. We've hit the ground running ever since. With relatives still here from South Africa (a cousin, an aunt, and two adorable little-boy second cousins) for her graduation from UC-Davis with her masters, Edwina piled all of us into a rental van Wednesday morning and off we went to San Francisco for the day.
Again: Whoa.
The scenery and the weather here are, well... amazing. Edwina and Bobby (whom I'm also good friends with from our time together at Mizzou) complain about it being hot, but compared to Missouri summers, it is absolutely divine. Even though it's in the upper 80's and lower 90's during the day, it's soooo dry. And there's almost always a breeze blowing. And in San Francisco (by the bay), when the north wind whips in off the Pacific, you really almost feel... cold for a second, until it lets up and you feel the sunshine again. It's really the strangest sensation. Hot-cold, hot-cold, hot-cold. I sometimes feel like a 26-yr-old menopausal woman.
In the midwest, all the fields are the same: wheat, soybeans, or corn. Here, I had trouble recognizing the first field we drove by. And there are soooo many kinds of crops: almonds, walnuts, tomatos, apricots, oranges, alfalfa, olives, cherries... yesterday we bought cherries for $1.59 / lb. Incredible. And the sunset last night was unfathomable. Holy cow. The house we're staying in has a grapevine slowly making it's way along the courtyard arbor just outside the front door. And Davis has all sorts of bike paths all over the place, which makes it super easy to get around without driving. Today, I had a lovely mile-and-a-half ride into town to meet my gracious hosts and a relative or two for lunch. And oh yeah... it was fabulous. I've never been any place like this before. It is, in a word, incredible.
Yesterday I had lunch next to the Pacific at Fisherman's Wharf, after which we went down to the old arcade where I played on a baseball game machine from 1937. The game was unique in that it kept track of strikes, balls, and outs, and had all the names of the original players from the Yankee's World Series line-up from the year it was made. So. cool.
After that, we went to Ghirardelli's... you know, the chocolate company. Their factory / main headquarters is in San Francisco. And I had quite possibly the world's largest and richest hot fudge sundae ever. Edwina and I shared it, it being too big for either of us alone. Then we drove through the Golden Gate: wow. It's even better in person than it is in the pictures. The following picture does not do it justice. They say it's never done being painted. Apparently there's a crew of 30 or so people and all they do is paint the bridge. As soon as it's done on one side, they go back through and paint it all again. Wow.
It was roughly 7 pm by the time we got up there, and because of this 1. we got to see the fog start to roll in and 2. it was SUPER windy and cold. Felt like Missouri in March. Again: whoa. I definitely did not expect that one.
Oh yeah... and we saw Alcatraz from a distance. Edwina says we'll go back again before I leave so we can go in. And not only did we see Alcatraz, but we saw all kinds of busy activity that comes with being next to a bay. My favorite was the huge container ships that came in carrying literally hundreds of railway containers on board. This particularly hits home for me since my family has lived a block away from a train track for the past eight years and I've seen countless railway cars go through Old Monroe. The thought that they all get put on a ginormous ship and sail across the ocean absolutely blows my mind. I literally feel like I've followed them here from Old Monroe to see what the end of the track looks like for them.
This morning all but one of Edwina's relatives left. And so the whirlwind is over for the moment, but quite interesting while it lasted, seeing as how at least half of all yesterday's conversation was in Afrikaans, which I only ever understood the gist of when combined with hand gestures and a few choice words here and there. So. interesting. I spent half the day in my own world, wondering what was happening around me. And some of the cultural differences are incredible. But they are wonderful people and I have a standing invitation to go to South Africa whenever. Bobby wants to go there and be the first person to ever ride a giraffe, which I find completely hilarious since not only is there sure to be someone who's done that already, but also because the spine of a giraffe is a strict diagonal. But he's determined. I just think going would be an extraordinary adventure in and of itself. But we'll see... here we are at Fisherman's Wharf yesterday.
Whoa, California. Mind blown in only two days. And still two weeks to go :)
Thursday, June 14, 2012
moonrise kingdom
Here is my latest obsession. Really, really want to go see this sometime soon... the problem is finding someone who'll go with me.
Moonrise Kingdom. Directed by Wes Anderson. So. excited.
You can find the St. Louis Riverfront Times review of it HERE.
Moonrise Kingdom. Directed by Wes Anderson. So. excited.
You can find the St. Louis Riverfront Times review of it HERE.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
stuff
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you for the jackhammer in the next room..."
"Katie, do you want this? It's been in our family now for 35 years..."
The last day and a half or so, I've been at my Mom's house. A couple of months ago, she and Dad sold our building to a new owner, who is renovating half of it into rental units for other tenants. We've been dragging our feet in cleaning everything out, partly because of my semester, partly because of tax season for mom, partly because Nick graduated this spring, and partly because we just didn't want to deal with any of it and didn't know where we were going to put half of it. I come from a family of hoarders. But the time has come: the construction crew is here. We are literally cleaning out while they jackhammer and put on a new roof next to us.
And I feel like I'm at a huge garage sale in the line of family memorabilia and general crap. I've become really convicted over the sheer volume of STUFF in the last six months and I'm ready to let a lot of it go. Because about 75% of it needs to.
There's been a lot of sorting. It's extremely draining. Do I really want a ginormous dry erase board for my own personal use? Well, I might use it once. Stress on the word might. So the answer is no. I have nowhere to put it and maybe useful once does not justify keeping it.
And it's like that. Over and over again with this trunk or that box of stuff. What about our old bikes? The tires are flat and I have a nicer one at my house. I never ride my old one. There's our childhood Easter baskets. Those stay... put them in the new storage room. Here's another four or five boxes of old music... what do we do with it? What about the painting that Dad commissioned for Mom when they got engaged? Neither one of them want it. Lordy...
You get the point.
Yesterday I spent six hours or so going through roughly ten years' worth of my own memorabilia. I finally pared it down to about five or six boxes that are now stored in my old closet. Thank God I had sorted through most of my stuff from childhood prior to that or I'd still be at it today.
And Mom and Dad are both here. Sorting. Making decisions. Mom wants to pitch. Dad wants to keep. And if Dad can't keep something, he wants to give it to one of us kids. Oy...
I think we should just take all of it to the dumpster, call it day, and play Dominion.
However, my brother did find a collage of drawings from when he was in middle school. Amongst his doodles were depictions of Jamie from Mythbusters, an Apache helicopter, a rainbow, the US Marine Corps symbol, a bunny, the One Ring, Han Solo in carbonite, a moose, and a coat of arms he designed with the initials LNS in the center (for Lord Nicholas Smith).
That is sooo going on the fridge.
"Katie, do you want this? It's been in our family now for 35 years..."
The last day and a half or so, I've been at my Mom's house. A couple of months ago, she and Dad sold our building to a new owner, who is renovating half of it into rental units for other tenants. We've been dragging our feet in cleaning everything out, partly because of my semester, partly because of tax season for mom, partly because Nick graduated this spring, and partly because we just didn't want to deal with any of it and didn't know where we were going to put half of it. I come from a family of hoarders. But the time has come: the construction crew is here. We are literally cleaning out while they jackhammer and put on a new roof next to us.
And I feel like I'm at a huge garage sale in the line of family memorabilia and general crap. I've become really convicted over the sheer volume of STUFF in the last six months and I'm ready to let a lot of it go. Because about 75% of it needs to.
There's been a lot of sorting. It's extremely draining. Do I really want a ginormous dry erase board for my own personal use? Well, I might use it once. Stress on the word might. So the answer is no. I have nowhere to put it and maybe useful once does not justify keeping it.
And it's like that. Over and over again with this trunk or that box of stuff. What about our old bikes? The tires are flat and I have a nicer one at my house. I never ride my old one. There's our childhood Easter baskets. Those stay... put them in the new storage room. Here's another four or five boxes of old music... what do we do with it? What about the painting that Dad commissioned for Mom when they got engaged? Neither one of them want it. Lordy...
You get the point.
Yesterday I spent six hours or so going through roughly ten years' worth of my own memorabilia. I finally pared it down to about five or six boxes that are now stored in my old closet. Thank God I had sorted through most of my stuff from childhood prior to that or I'd still be at it today.
And Mom and Dad are both here. Sorting. Making decisions. Mom wants to pitch. Dad wants to keep. And if Dad can't keep something, he wants to give it to one of us kids. Oy...
I think we should just take all of it to the dumpster, call it day, and play Dominion.
However, my brother did find a collage of drawings from when he was in middle school. Amongst his doodles were depictions of Jamie from Mythbusters, an Apache helicopter, a rainbow, the US Marine Corps symbol, a bunny, the One Ring, Han Solo in carbonite, a moose, and a coat of arms he designed with the initials LNS in the center (for Lord Nicholas Smith).
That is sooo going on the fridge.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
middle school camp
I am officially out of food in my refrigerator and pantry. This morning I'm having the simplest breakfast possible: gluten-free toasted bread and two boiled eggs because there's simply nothing else to eat. I was so tired last night, I forgot to make iced coffee and put it in the fridge to cold-brew overnight. I mean, seriously... I forgot to make coffee. And this last week, no joke, I wore the same shorts every day for five days straight. And last night I slept for eight and a half hours and it was the most glorious thing ever.
Which begs the explanation to all this. I give you three words: middle school camp.
That's right, this past week I had the privilege of spending five epic days with a bunch of middle school girls since my church, along with six other churches in the St. Louis area, got together and put on this camp for the middle school kids in their congregations, with yours truly along for the ride as a counselor. In all honesty, it really was very good. We bonded a lot and the girls bonded a lot amongst themselves, which is what myself and the other leaders wanted to see. And let me just tell you: my girls had questions. Lots of questions. Serious questions. The speaker talked a lot about the story of Jacob throughout the week... about Jacob's relationships with Laban and Rachel and Leah, but mostly about how Jacob wrestled with God. We talked about how we wrestle with God in our lives -- intellectually, emotionally, and the performance mentality that many kids grow up with in the church (i.e. I grew up as a Christian, therefore I'm expected to go to church, read my Bible, and pray in order to be ok with God). They think that they have a relationship with God because their parents do and because they go to church, when in reality all they're doing is conforming to a list of expectations. But the speaker really wanted to encourage them to learn how to make their faith their own. Most of the girls in my group had really deep, intellectual questions... we went on crazy digressions during our small group time. We talked about things like predestination and unconditional love and the character of God and how when Jacob wrestled with God, it was similar to Jesus wrestling with God in the Garden of Gethsemane and what that means in terms of our Savior being able to identify with us and why it's ok to wrestle with God and how that's actually a really important part of your walk with him. And the great thing is... they got it. They had lightbulbs going off left and right and it was awesome.
A lot of other things happened this week too: one of my girls had a serious problem with a certain instance where I exerted my authority (in her best interest of course) the last day or two, I was offered an internship at my church to work with student ministry, and I found one of my long-lost friends from Mizzou who literally lives down the street from me now and goes to the church I run past on my running route (six months I've been here and never knew...). Needless to say, it was an eventful week and I now remember why I disliked that season of my life so much when I was that age. There was actually a girl in my group who was very much like me when I was her age... one who won't grow into herself until she's 25 or 30. But the kids need people to come alongside and mentor them. And I am happy to do it in small doses.
So of course, after such an epic week, the first thing I did when I got home yesterday was take a nap and go see Othello with John and Megan in Forest Park. Right? An epic ending to an epic week. With wine.
And so now I am home and seriously ready to recooperate. Today will be a quiet catch-up day, thankfully. I'll start practicing again on Monday.
And I declined the internship. Because, you know, I'm a pianist. And as much as I love working with the kids, I definitely feel called to my work as a musician. And I would really miss it if I sort of made a hard left in my career path suddenly. Ironically, one of the morning seminars this week was on story... i.e. what makes a good story and the story of your life and how we co-author it with God. We also talked about names and how God renamed certain characters in the Bible (like Jacob) as they walked through their story, and how ultimately he will rename us one day too (Rev 2:17), which made me think a lot about my name and my story. And I'm still trying to figure out what exactly my name means in terms of my story (and vice versa)... there is a lot that will yet be revealed. But I definitely know what I'm not, which is ministry in the traditional sense. If I were meant for that, I would've been a man and my parents would have named me after three of the most famous theologians / writers / pastors in the church (Calvin Bunyan Spurgeon Smith would have been my name). But my mom didn't want her child named that. And so she prayed for a girl. And God evidently agreed :)
Which begs the explanation to all this. I give you three words: middle school camp.
That's right, this past week I had the privilege of spending five epic days with a bunch of middle school girls since my church, along with six other churches in the St. Louis area, got together and put on this camp for the middle school kids in their congregations, with yours truly along for the ride as a counselor. In all honesty, it really was very good. We bonded a lot and the girls bonded a lot amongst themselves, which is what myself and the other leaders wanted to see. And let me just tell you: my girls had questions. Lots of questions. Serious questions. The speaker talked a lot about the story of Jacob throughout the week... about Jacob's relationships with Laban and Rachel and Leah, but mostly about how Jacob wrestled with God. We talked about how we wrestle with God in our lives -- intellectually, emotionally, and the performance mentality that many kids grow up with in the church (i.e. I grew up as a Christian, therefore I'm expected to go to church, read my Bible, and pray in order to be ok with God). They think that they have a relationship with God because their parents do and because they go to church, when in reality all they're doing is conforming to a list of expectations. But the speaker really wanted to encourage them to learn how to make their faith their own. Most of the girls in my group had really deep, intellectual questions... we went on crazy digressions during our small group time. We talked about things like predestination and unconditional love and the character of God and how when Jacob wrestled with God, it was similar to Jesus wrestling with God in the Garden of Gethsemane and what that means in terms of our Savior being able to identify with us and why it's ok to wrestle with God and how that's actually a really important part of your walk with him. And the great thing is... they got it. They had lightbulbs going off left and right and it was awesome.
A lot of other things happened this week too: one of my girls had a serious problem with a certain instance where I exerted my authority (in her best interest of course) the last day or two, I was offered an internship at my church to work with student ministry, and I found one of my long-lost friends from Mizzou who literally lives down the street from me now and goes to the church I run past on my running route (six months I've been here and never knew...). Needless to say, it was an eventful week and I now remember why I disliked that season of my life so much when I was that age. There was actually a girl in my group who was very much like me when I was her age... one who won't grow into herself until she's 25 or 30. But the kids need people to come alongside and mentor them. And I am happy to do it in small doses.
So of course, after such an epic week, the first thing I did when I got home yesterday was take a nap and go see Othello with John and Megan in Forest Park. Right? An epic ending to an epic week. With wine.
And so now I am home and seriously ready to recooperate. Today will be a quiet catch-up day, thankfully. I'll start practicing again on Monday.
And I declined the internship. Because, you know, I'm a pianist. And as much as I love working with the kids, I definitely feel called to my work as a musician. And I would really miss it if I sort of made a hard left in my career path suddenly. Ironically, one of the morning seminars this week was on story... i.e. what makes a good story and the story of your life and how we co-author it with God. We also talked about names and how God renamed certain characters in the Bible (like Jacob) as they walked through their story, and how ultimately he will rename us one day too (Rev 2:17), which made me think a lot about my name and my story. And I'm still trying to figure out what exactly my name means in terms of my story (and vice versa)... there is a lot that will yet be revealed. But I definitely know what I'm not, which is ministry in the traditional sense. If I were meant for that, I would've been a man and my parents would have named me after three of the most famous theologians / writers / pastors in the church (Calvin Bunyan Spurgeon Smith would have been my name). But my mom didn't want her child named that. And so she prayed for a girl. And God evidently agreed :)
Sunday, June 3, 2012
more growing pains
I know, I know. You read the title of this post and think to yourself, "Really Katie?? Again? Seriously, make it stop!!" Yes, well... today was a make-it-stop kind of day. Today I literally had one of those moments where I could have kicked myself... and I've been kicking myself ever since it happened. One of those moments where you want to forgive yourself, but you're just going to have to let some time pass before you feel ok again.
It was one of those moments where I should have known better. I was cornered by a woman who I've allowed myself to get into scrapes with before and with whom I should have been more on my guard. But I was tired and hungry... nearly dizzy with hunger because I hadn't eaten and we got into conversation and she just kept asking questions... leading questions, that is. Looking back, I feel like I was sitting there in a counseling session I hadn't paid for. And before I knew it, I was telling her things about my family and the family of a very dear friend of mine that I had no business mentioning. I could blame this woman for her lack of taste and appropriateness, but it was just as much my own fault for opening the damn vault to her. It makes me so sick to think about it. I don't think I said anything devastating... I hope I didn't, anyway. But I honestly don't remember much about the specifics, it all happened so fast. I so wish I had just kept my big fat trap shut. It happened at a party and I left within an hour of arriving when I could have easily stayed three or four. The whole episode was so unsettling, especially since I knew within a moment or two when I had gone too far. I began to feel claustrophobic and immediately went to my friend to tell her what had happened and how I had dishonored both of our families by talking about what was nobody else's business but our own. I think she must have been distracted by the atmosphere of the party because she shrugged it off, even though I still feel horrible about it. I only hope there was no permanent damage. It makes me angry to think about it... angry at that woman, and the situation, and myself for letting it get so out of hand. My only consolation is the knowledge that when things like this have happened before (because let's face it, this isn't the first time), they usually aren't as bad as I think they are, and the Lord totally uses my guilt and misery over it to change my heart and my behavior for the better... for at least a little while. And I inevitably learn a little more about how to manage myself.
Growing pains. Yuck.
It also makes me sick to think about it because even though my family and I have really struggled with each other recently and over the past year (whether they are aware of it in certain ways or not), they are truly wonderful. Yesterday my brother and I were out and about when my car battery died and my dad came to help us immediately, no questions asked. He came, he took the battery out, he took us to get a replacement, and then he took us back to the car to install it himself. And he was amazingly kind and patient throughout the whole thing. It was really the most beautiful experience.
And here I am, opening what should be a closed vault regarding familial issues to someone who doesn't know me and doesn't have any interest in me, aside from distant speculation and downright nosiness. Ugh, Katie... ! So not even pretty...
Jesus, please help me. Help me to rest in the knowledge that you have forgiven me already and that those I've wounded love me dearly and are ready to forgive me too. Help me to forgive myself and stop being miserable when it's already a thing of the past, as far as the east is from the west in your eyes.
Something I've really realized lately is that in addition to struggling to keep my mouth shut at certain times, I really suck when it comes to mercy. As in, it is truly a gift from the Lord when I am able to be merciful and compassionate towards someone. Especially if that someone is a loved one. ESPECIALLY if that someone is me. I am so hard on everyone around me, not excluding myself. And I could sit here and try to justify it by saying that it's because I've been through so much and had to overcome so much on my own, but really, it's just a nasty character flaw...
... and I really hate it. It needs to start improving immediately. As in, like yesterday...
It was one of those moments where I should have known better. I was cornered by a woman who I've allowed myself to get into scrapes with before and with whom I should have been more on my guard. But I was tired and hungry... nearly dizzy with hunger because I hadn't eaten and we got into conversation and she just kept asking questions... leading questions, that is. Looking back, I feel like I was sitting there in a counseling session I hadn't paid for. And before I knew it, I was telling her things about my family and the family of a very dear friend of mine that I had no business mentioning. I could blame this woman for her lack of taste and appropriateness, but it was just as much my own fault for opening the damn vault to her. It makes me so sick to think about it. I don't think I said anything devastating... I hope I didn't, anyway. But I honestly don't remember much about the specifics, it all happened so fast. I so wish I had just kept my big fat trap shut. It happened at a party and I left within an hour of arriving when I could have easily stayed three or four. The whole episode was so unsettling, especially since I knew within a moment or two when I had gone too far. I began to feel claustrophobic and immediately went to my friend to tell her what had happened and how I had dishonored both of our families by talking about what was nobody else's business but our own. I think she must have been distracted by the atmosphere of the party because she shrugged it off, even though I still feel horrible about it. I only hope there was no permanent damage. It makes me angry to think about it... angry at that woman, and the situation, and myself for letting it get so out of hand. My only consolation is the knowledge that when things like this have happened before (because let's face it, this isn't the first time), they usually aren't as bad as I think they are, and the Lord totally uses my guilt and misery over it to change my heart and my behavior for the better... for at least a little while. And I inevitably learn a little more about how to manage myself.
Growing pains. Yuck.
It also makes me sick to think about it because even though my family and I have really struggled with each other recently and over the past year (whether they are aware of it in certain ways or not), they are truly wonderful. Yesterday my brother and I were out and about when my car battery died and my dad came to help us immediately, no questions asked. He came, he took the battery out, he took us to get a replacement, and then he took us back to the car to install it himself. And he was amazingly kind and patient throughout the whole thing. It was really the most beautiful experience.
And here I am, opening what should be a closed vault regarding familial issues to someone who doesn't know me and doesn't have any interest in me, aside from distant speculation and downright nosiness. Ugh, Katie... ! So not even pretty...
Jesus, please help me. Help me to rest in the knowledge that you have forgiven me already and that those I've wounded love me dearly and are ready to forgive me too. Help me to forgive myself and stop being miserable when it's already a thing of the past, as far as the east is from the west in your eyes.
Something I've really realized lately is that in addition to struggling to keep my mouth shut at certain times, I really suck when it comes to mercy. As in, it is truly a gift from the Lord when I am able to be merciful and compassionate towards someone. Especially if that someone is a loved one. ESPECIALLY if that someone is me. I am so hard on everyone around me, not excluding myself. And I could sit here and try to justify it by saying that it's because I've been through so much and had to overcome so much on my own, but really, it's just a nasty character flaw...
... and I really hate it. It needs to start improving immediately. As in, like yesterday...
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