Posted on October 27, 2011
The 10th Annual Mordt Tournament
Charleston, South Carolina isn’t exactly on the way from Tampa to Indianapolis. However, there was no chance I was going to come a couple hours within the city and not visit Heather.
Heather is a dear friend from college, and one of those people where it doesn’t matter what we’re doing–just simply being together is fun. Even cleaning out a closet {literally} is enjoyable with Heather.
Every year, at least once a year, Heather and I have gone miniature golfing. Or putt-putting. Or as another college roommate incorrectly refers to it: mini-putting {love you Chrissy!}. This year was the tenth year of our fierce putting competition.
The playing field was quite even, as we were both playing the course for the very first time. It turns out Charleston only has one putt-putt place. And this one putt-putt place has one gimmick: place the hole on or near a ridiculous incline.
This gimmick, while not exactly exciting nor surprising, was quite successful at tripping up us seasoned professionals.
We spent a fair amount of time bemoaning the ridiculousness. And racking up the strokes. Nine holes in we were tied, and each 20 strokes above par.
But, proving the old adage that even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes, I managed to get a hole in one on hole fourteen.
And then, by pure dumb luck, I managed to slide in another hole in one on fifteen as well.
My good fortune meant Heather’s downfall and I managed to climb to one of the most solid victories of tournament history.
But lest you be too astonished by my putt-putt skills, please note that (A) each hole was a par 2, (B) there was a five stroke limit we did not respect, and (C) one of those eight stroke holes may have had a pity assist. Perhaps neither of us will be going pro anytime soon.
Posted on October 26, 2011
Missing them already
Operation: Move to Washington is now halfway completed. Over the past few days I slowly made my way from Tampa up to Indianapolis, stopping in Charleston and Asheville to see some folks I love.
On Monday, my dad and I will squeeze into an extremely overloaded Corolla for the rest of the drive to Washington. Trying to cram all of my earthly belongings into a Corolla along with two adults? Pretty much the toughest packing challenge I’ve faced yet.
I haven’t even been gone a week and I terribly miss these sweet faces and those gorgeous eyes.
I’m also missing China. Today, on a whim, I stopped in an Asian grocery store I happened to be driving past. I was instantly transported and almost completely lost it in the drink aisle.
However, there is one person who makes all of this missing totally worth it. And the fact that we’ll be finally living in the same city in a week? Keeping me going.
Posted on October 16, 2011
Sunday Snapshot: Family
I’m finishing up my three month stint with my sister and her family this week. We’ve been talking about doing family photo shoots since the day I set foot in the house. And of course, it got put off until the very last weekend…when we realized, “oh shoot, if we don’t do it now, it will never happen!”
Catching all family members looking presentable and a toddler and an infant in a good mood is nearly impossible. Read More
Updated on October 12, 2011
Food for thought
There it is, the secret of joy’s flame: Humbly let go. Let go of trying to do, let go of trying to control…let go of my own way, let go of my own fears. Let God blow His wind, His trials, oxygen for joy’s fire. Leave the hand open and be. Be at peace. Bend the knee and be small and let God give what God chooses to give because He only gives love and whisper surprised thanks. This is the fuel for joy’s flame. Fullness of joy is discovered only in the emptying of will. And I can empty. I can empty because counting His graces has awakened me to how He cherishes me, holds me, passionately values me. I can empty because I am full of His love. I can trust. I can let go. I hadn’t known that joy meant dying…
…the words of Teresa of Avila play in my head, a beckoning refrain: ‘Just these two words He spoke changed my life, “Enjoy me.” What a burden I thought I was to carry–a crucifix, as did He. Love once said to me, “I know a song, would you like to hear it?” And laughter came from every brick in the street and from every pore in the sky, After a night of prayer, He changed my life when He sang, “Enjoy me.”‘ That’s His song! I rejoice in you. Come rejoice in Me. The song that plays the world awake, the song that fuels joy: Enjoy Me. Enjoy Me!
Words of Ann Voskamp from One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are
Posted on October 12, 2011
Isn’t it ironic
I’ve been a Buckeye fan as long as I can remember.
Born and raised my first sixteen years in Columbus, Ohio, it was inevitable that I would bleed scarlet and gray. Even if I had two Uncles who graduated from the evil blue empire up north.
From the time I was little, Saturdays were spent with my dad in the shoe. We started out way up high in the nosebleed sections, and I was way more fascinated by the cartoons on the scoreboard than the game happening below. On the way to and from the game, my dad would explain the positions and plays and I would half listen as words like “shotgun” and “i-formation” flew past my ears. But as I grew in inches, I also grew in interest. My dad succeeded in transforming me into a die hard football fan. In middle school and high school I began work in the Shoe at a concession stand sponsored by our church youth group. I watched massive quantities of hot dogs be cooked, and then climbed up and down the stairs selling them to hungry fans. And thus I lost my appetite for hot dogs for a good number of years.
A move halfway through high school to Indianapolis did nothing to dampen my love of the Buckeyes; we would still travel over to Columbus on Saturdays. Even during college, I would drive from Chicago to Indy on Friday nights, to and from the game in Columbus on Saturday, and back to Chicago on Sunday. And then I moved to China. The Lord blessed me with a teammate who loved me enough my first year to get up in the middle of the night to listen to Ohio State games over the internet. With advancements in technology over the years, eventually I got to actually watch some of the games, albeit in quite blurry and choppy broadcasts. These were some of the best years for the Buckeyes; they were at the height of their program. This past year, I began to eagerly await being in the States during fall to once again go to the Shoe.
That opportunity came about two weeks ago on a cold, rainy day in Columbus.
Only the Buckeyes aren’t exactly at their peak anymore.
Quite to the contrary, they have miserably fallen from the heights to the lowlands.
The offense moves backwards just about as often as they move forwards.
The defense, while it has its moments of strength, also has weaker areas than usual.
The game I saw? The Buckeyes remained scoreless until there were about 15 seconds left in the game, and about 1/3 of the fans left in the stands. You better believe I was still in the stands.
But even with the loss…and the hard-to-bear offensive offense…returning to the shoe sure felt like returning home.
Posted on October 10, 2011
Stick your toes in
As I mentioned before, the life of Joshua has been of great encouragement as I have waded through this period of transition. As I prepared to leave behind my wanderings in China and faced many unknowns before me, the Lord’s call to Joshua for courage and confidence seemed particularly applicable. Sunday morning, while at church, I was reading through the account of Joshua and the Israelites crossing through the Jordan into the promised land. This story is one that I am quite familiar with and that I have gleaned many lessons from throughout the years. And yet, this morning, the Lord impressed another layer of meaning into the account as one particular detail stood out in stark relief.
The whole account is found in Joshua 3, but the detail was found in verses 14-16. “So when the people broke camp to cross the Jordan, the priests carrying the ark of the covenant went ahead of them. Now the Jordan is at flood stage all during harvest. Yet as soon as the priests who carried the ark reached the Jordan and their feet touched the water’s edge, the water from upstream stopped flowing.”
The beauty in this detail is the Lord’s impeccable (yet to our impatient souls, very last minute) timing. The Israelites went through the whole process of breaking camp and lining up for the march with a seemingly insurmountable barrier of churning waters before them. I can imagine them kind of looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes as they marched straight toward the water. Perhaps some wondered if the Lord really would part the waters yet again. However, sure enough, with the first touch of a foot, those waters piled up just as the Lord had promised.
The Lord didn’t boost the Israelites’ confidence by having them wake up that morning to an unseasonably dried up river bed or a remarkably piled up waterway. Their confidence was to be derived from their memory, from their recollection of all the Lord had done before. They were to remember, and so with great confidence in His promises stick their feet straight into that impassable water. In the past forty years of wandering, and in the deliverance from Egypt before that, the Lord had revealed Himself as enduringly faithful and enduringly powerful.
A practical example of this principle comes from my recent trip to Epcot. At Epcot, there’s a ride called “Test Track,” where you are taken through a simulated test of various safety features on an automobile. Your “car” drives over bumpy roads, whips around hairpin turns, and tests its antilock brakes. All of these tests are covered in the orientation video viewed before being strapped in the car. At the end of the video, the safety instructor says a mystery test will be thrown in at the end. In the ride, when it comes time for this mystery test, you see a cement crash wall in front of you, and a crashed and mangled car in front of a similar cement wall next to you. All of a sudden your car starts accelerating, picking up speed as it barrels toward the wall. At the last moment the wall splits open and you fly out to an open outdoor track.
Are you wondering what on earth this has to do with Joshua and the Jordan? Stay with me for a moment. Now, sitting in that car, facing the cement wall, I didn’t feel fear or anxiety for one second. Why is that? Because I know Disney. I know that Disney is not in the business of using its patrons as crash dummies. Consequently, although no way through was immediately apparent, I knew that one of two things would happen: the car would stop in time before the wall or somehow the wall would be moved. If I didn’t know Disney, didn’t know I was in an amusement park, and was taken by blindfold and randomly deposited on the ride…well, perhaps then there would be reason for a bit of anxiety.
My point is this: it is the knowledge of who the Lord is and the remembrance of what He has done that allows us to march forward even when a way through seems at best unlikely and at worst impossible. He is the God of the last minute deliverance, the one who stayed Abraham’s hand poised for the kill, parted the seas as chariots pounded near, and raised Lazarus four days dead. My encouragement to you, and to myself as I face the unknowns of an upcoming move, is to remember and march on towards that river with the courage to wade on in. He will be faithful to part those waters.
Posted on October 9, 2011
Sunday Snapshot: Food & Wine Fest
As you may {or may not} know, the past few months I’ve been living with my sister and her family. Not just anyone would open up their home and life for several months, and after six years of living very far away from family, it’s been a rare privilege to live under the same roof. It’s been nice to get to know my niece and nephew quite well, and to realize perhaps I can wait a few more years to have kids.
Pretty soon I’ll be packing up my car for another cross-country drive to my new home in Washington, so Mike, Elizabeth and I decided to have one last hurrah sans kids this weekend. We headed to the adult version of the happiest place on earth, also known as the food and wine festival at Epcot.
Every fall, Disney sets up food booths from all the different countries with the culinary delights each is known for, served up in delightfully small portions.
Elizabeth and Mike have been to the festival before, and know exactly how to tackle the overwhelming feast for the senses.
Updated on September 17, 2011
Transformation: the Reveal & the Reality
I must confess, since my temporary move to Tampa, I’ve watched an inordinate amount of HGTV. It’s the perfect channel to have on in the background while catching up on email, folding laundry, or snoozing while the kids nap. A lot of my favorite shows revolve around the transformation of a space from someplace drab and uninviting to someplace stunning. I love the beginning and the end of these shows. The beginning illuminates just how badly the space is in need of a revamp, and the end reveals the space in all of its sparkling newness. The in between? Honestly, I could care less. That’s my productivity time (be that sleep productivity or correspondence productivity). If it were up to me, I would fast forward through that middle part of hammering and affixing and measuring and cleaning.
I think there is something inherent in us as a human race that makes us love all things new, and despise deterioration. It’s as if we knew things were intended to last–to last in an incorruptible state–and so the constant decay that surrounds us is frustrating at some moments, and downright heart-breaking at others. We are longing for a newness that lingers, but in the absence of that we seek to satisfy ourselves with a constant changing parade of the latest and the greatest.
Not only do we crave newness externally, but also internally. There are portions of our interior landscapes that we would love to see transformed and updated and polished. The only problem is, at least in my case, we’re looking for the reveal rather than the workshop. We forget that transformation is rarely instantaneous, and never without a great deal of labor. You may not be the one laboring…it may be an HGTV crew moved in for the month…but the work must be done. And despite the facade of ease and rapidity put up by a thirty minute program, this work is dirty, intense, and wrought with hiccups. And even when the remodel is done, when the hammers are laid to rest, and the last dish is put in the cupboard, the work is still not done. If the beauty of the transformation is to remain, there will be a need for constant cleaning, small repairs, and eventual big ticket item replacements. That’s the nature of this world; there is no arrival, no parking, no remaining in the reveal. The cameras roll away and decay immediately begins to set in unless there is constant vigilance to work against it. And even with that vigilance, replacement will one day once again become necessary.
Here is the wondrous promise of the gospel: those inward landscapes can be transformed just as dramatically as that kitchen from the sixties. And this transformation is not left alone to our clumsy and inexperienced hands. However, just as on the exterior, this transformation will be wrought over great time and with great labor. Things will often look worse before they begin to look better. There are walls that must be torn down. Nails that must be ripped out and nails that must be driven in. Occasionally, though, we are given encouraging and blessed moments of revelation–a glimpse at a heart miraculously changed. But if we plop down and declare the work is done, if we fail to recognize the maintenance that comes with that newness, decay will set in here as well.
Lately, I’ve needed this lesson from HGTV. You see, during the past six years in China, there has been some major internal construction going on. Moving thousands of miles away from all that’s familiar will do that to you. This past year, amidst the challenges and trials, there have been revealing moments where I’ve been given glimpses of firmer foundations laid and repairs made. Those moments have been incredibly encouraging. To be honest, though, in contemplating my return to the States, I was expecting a time out from the construction. A break from living in the middle of dust and holes and scattered nails that prick you unexpectedly when you’re not watching your step. After all the work of the past six years, surely I deserved a break to just sit back and admire the work that had been done. So when I got back to America, and walls immediately began to be torn down once again, I was a little disheartened. But then I heard the voice of the Carpenter whisper with both comfort and conviction, you’re not done yet.
One day, one glorious day, all will be made permanently new. And until that day, we press on, knowing that this is one renovation project whose ultimate reveal will be well worth all the labor.
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. ~Romans 8:18-25
Posted on September 16, 2011
Recovery & Adjustment
Hello? Anyone still there?
I know, I went missing with little…well, to be more accurate, no explanation. So what have I been doing the past seven weeks?
I passed my comprehensive exams, thus completing my master’s degree.
I drove from Indianapolis to Tampa, Florida. Or, more correctly, a very special someone drove me and my car from Indy to Tampa. I only had to drive about two of the hours. Yes, you may call me spoiled. On the way we stopped and visited a dear friend in Charleston.
After a week of soaking in the sun with said special person upon arrival in Tampa, we said goodbye. Hopefully for our last multi-month stint apart. I settled into my room at my sister’s house.
I started my “job” watching my niece and nephew.
My sister, her husband, and her son left for an 8 day vacation in Colorado. They left me with my darling eight month old niece Sophie. I discovered how challenging being a “single parent” is. I learned how to cook and consume dinner with a fussy baby on my hip/in my lap.
I started my “second job,” caring for my sister’s friend’s (did you follow that?) nine month old.
I essentially became a suburban stay at home mom. Without a social network.
I began to to really, really miss China. Team, students, my fruit lady, my egg lady, teaching. I threw a couple pity parties. Then I started reading this book. And decided pity parties perhaps weren’t the best way to adjust back to life stateside.
And I started to find joy again, and the blessings hidden in this season.
Finally, today, I picked up my camera (relatively untouched in the last eight weeks) for some sibling shots.
Apparently my models are going to need some practice.
Smiling at the same time while looking at the camera?
Too much to ask for in photo shoot #1.
But even without perfect posing, I happen to think these two are pretty darn cute.
More of what’s been on my heart and mind, as well as a report on a roommate reunion in the days to come.
Posted on July 31, 2011
Sunday Snapshot: My kind of town {Chicago}
Yesterday morning for brunch, I met up with two classmates and fellow teachers from China to celebrate the end of a summer of classes, and for me, the end of my graduate degree. That’s right, I’m finished. No more deadlines. No more books to read. No more papers to write. No more exams to take. I hardly know what to do with myself.
So when Janice and Charity asked me to head downtown with them for the afternoon, it didn’t take much to persuade me.
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