(not) another valentine's rant

it's 9:43 on valentine's day 2012.  all the clever facts and cynical commentaries about this hallmark holiday have already been communicated... maybe. 

i'm a little conflicted about valentine's day.  i'm incredibly sympathetic to the disgusted reaction that so many people have every year when february 14 rolls around.  i've been there - it sucks to be single, wishing you celebrating today with your imaginary valentine, while every couple in the world is floating around you on clouds of made of pink hearts.  but... i really love it.  (disclaimer: i do have a valentine and i realize that puts me at a disadvantage in encouraging a more light-hearted view of this somewhat silly day, but hear me out.)

when i was a college freshman, i was completely prepared to face the dreaded day with my "unrequited love songs" playlist and my black sweater.  as i was walking to my first class, i passed my dear friend stuart and exchanged a pleasant "happy celebrate-your-bitterness day!" and kept moving.  later that morning, the sun had started to peak through and it became more and more difficult to be angry at all the couples.  i ended up changing into my cute little pink skirt with embroidered bumblebees (vandy much?) and fell off the bitter-train into the rushing stream of valentine's joy.  no boys. no romance. just some unexpected sunshine and a little glimpse of what v-day is really about:

for some reason, i was enrolled in this horrible "earth and the atmosphere" course that semester.  my professor resembled a less sexy bill nye (that's right) and being the environmentally responsible geologist that he was, he commuted to school on his bicycle everyday.  on unexpectedly warm days like that one, his sweat-producing commute became more obvious to those of us in the class.  it was usually better to sit in the back, a helpful hint i had already picked up on.  at the end of class that day, just as prof. gilligan (i may or may not be using a fake name) had cooled down from the bike ride, one of the vandy girls in the front row asked him if he had any valentine's day plans.  my thoughts: suck up. then: why would you ask him that? he probably doesn't have plans and now he has to tell us all that. rude.  turns out he had plans to cook a valentine's dinner for his wife and two little girls. :) 

i knowww that it makes me a total judge judy to have been surprised that this man had a family and was spending valentine's day with them.  BUT thanks to this inappropriate little glimpse into his personal life, i was able to embrace valentine's day for what it really is --- a celebration of love that exists beyond flowers and chocolates and lingerie and cheesy nicholas sparks movies.

if you aren't in love, THAT'S OKAY.  if you want a reason to schedule oral surgery and sleep through valentine's day next year, then i suppose it's as good a time as any to check out, but you are MISSING OUT. valentine's day is fun and sweet and doesn't have to be gross and depressing.  go ahead and call it "singles' awareness day" if you want, but don't wallow - love is bigger than smooching.

also (not gloating), but i had an awesome valentine's day full of valentine's lovelies from the sweet morris fam and quirky free burritos with my sweetheart, mr. john cantu, WHO ENROLLED IN LAW SCHOOL TODAY!  :)  proud and happy! 

dear blog, i miss you. love, whitney

i'm tired of talking about how i haven't written anything on my blog since september.

i'm tired of being in graduate school and writing for a grade, which may not be as high as it should because i neglected to proofread a paper before turning it in.

i'm tired of transferring "blog" over from week to week of to-do lists, knowing that it's just one of those things like "put rain-x on my windshield" that i'm absolutely not going to do this week.

i, whitney olivia booth, am officially 88 days away from my liberation from the bonds of life as a graduate student.  i will have mastered divinity, so to speak. i will no longer have homework because i will never again be a student.  NEVER.

i. can't. wait.

things i'm going to do after may 11, 2012:

• flee to the doubletree with ms. claire k. harris for snuggles and warm cookies
• renew netflix and watch downton abbey
• spend an entire day in my pajamas with no to-do lists
• catch up on all my "blog about this" list items
• get my 101 list back in gear
• reduce my complaining by at least 60%
• be awesome

I GOT THIS. 

do you know your barista?

a few moments ago, as i sought refuge from my first hebrew quiz (if i knew how to say anything in hebrew, i would say i'm mostly screwed. good thing i only know the aleph-bet... and not very well), i ventured into suzie's cafe to satiate my grumbling tummy.  suzie's is the div school cafe that's attached to the refectory.  vanderbilt alumni might remember it as the best eatery on campus where you could get a piping hot piece of fried chicken with pinto beans and cornbread any day of the week. it's probably a good thing that they scrapped that before i enrolled in divinity school.

anyway, i've actually never purchased anything at suzie's.  i've been known to snag a splenda packet here and there and i'm confident that i'm responsible for the snarky sign next to the condiments reminding the public that those products are for paying customers only. this morning, i broke down and bought a bagel. (my pantry consists of multi-grain cheerios and mini-bags of popcorn and i have to save something for lunch. trader joe, i'm coming for you.)  while i was at the toaster, the girl who runs the cafe (suzie? probably not.) comes in and starts bitching loudly to the other employee about how people expect her to know their drink order.  apparently, a gentleman told her that he would have "the usual" this morning and she told him she couldn't remember what that was at the moment.  he said that was fine and that her head must be full of "lots of other useless information".  OK - i get it. he's clearly acknowledging that his drink order is not of supreme importance to obtain a permanent place in this girl's memory. he probably could have worded that a little better though, because all she heard was "your brain is filled with useless information so that you can't remember my latte order."  in relaying this episode to her coworker, she kept saying (as to her previous customer), "how long have i been working here? and do you even know my name?!" 

all of this is pretty obnoxious, honestly, and i didn't really think it was professional at all for her to be complaining so loudly about this. if we had done that at starbucks, we would have been chewed out (and not in front of customers).  BUT what we learn from this is that our suzie's cafe people need a little love. i'm probably never going back there, so it's up to you, VDS. tomorrow when you creep in for your morning coffee, HAVE A CONVERSATION.  as a former barista, i can assure you that (if you can avoid being incredibly creepy about it) it makes working in the service industry so much better when you feel that your customers acknowledge you as a person.  it's not like any of us just felt a calling to steam milk all day and burn our hands with boiling water - it's just a job and it usually comes with a o'dark:30 wake up call. 

so STEP UP, vanderbilt.  suzie, we hear you.  you are appreciated and if i ever decide to buy anything there again, we're gonna chat it out, but don't hold your breath because i'm a cheapskate and my bagel wasn't that awesome. 

an open apology to my inner gLeek

i watch a lot of TV, especially for a person who neither owns a TV nor has a cable subscription. thanks to hulu and netflix instant, i manage to follow the weekly shenanigans of (get ready for this) the office, 30 rock, cougar town, modern family, community, parks and recreation, weeds, wilfred, bored to death, it's always sunny in philadelphia, AND how i met your mother.  in the past, i've made it pretty clear that my thursday night (practically a high holy day) allegiance lies with NBC and even though i haven't watched it live in years, it's always must-see-TV and never grey's anatomy.  i'm pro-comedy/mockumentary, not so much with the medical dramas, trashy reality shows, or basically anything that most of america is watching.

...until now.

my conversion period began on one fated night when i retreated to the millerson home in search of hot water, only to find miss holly g in the middle of "the bachelor." after the obligatory eye roll, i was instantly sucked in, planned a finale viewing session, and carved out some prime summer hours to watch all of "the bachelorette," which was horrifically wonderful.  so horrific, in fact, that i considered it my one awfully guilty television pleasure, and that was as far as i would take it.

the skies really opened up one glorious evening on a flight from salt lake city to atlanta, when i put my sudoku book down to watch the trio of in-flight shows offered: parks and rec, the middle, and.... glee.  i figured i could just take a 25 minute break when glee came on, but i didn't.

so it's official. season 1? thank you netflix. i cashed in my free trial for hulu plus in order to fly through season 2 in, oh, less than a week (and i'm in graduate school). it's a totally legit show! i mean my high school chorus was awful - every year at the spring concert, they sang "imagine" and "the shoop song" (which i'm pretty sure has a real name that we've chosen to ignore). not good. sorry i'm not sorry for being honest.

but these kids? granted, there's no way a public school could feasibly contain/fund this type of talent, but HOLY CRAP they're awesome! but it'd be hard not to be awesome with an inspiring guiding light like mr. will schuester. am i right? i just want ms. pillsbury to get it together so they can finally admit to each other, themselves, and the world that they belong together. maybe in season 3.

and oh crap, quinn is the worst person ever, but i still feel sorry for her. my favorites are kurt and artie.  artie's a baller and i love his dance moves. kurt does a mean gaga and stole my heart by eating breakfast at tiffany's. mercedes - we know you're a diva, so why don't you start butting in first if you want the lead solos instead of just sulking because rachel always beats you to it? oh, finn. so cute. so almost 30 YEARS OLD! how are we getting away with that? that's right. corey monteith, according to IMDB-- born in 1982.

i'm excited to add GLEE to my list of weekly internet-TV viewing this fall and i think it'll be way better when i'm not watching them all back-to-back. it gets a little "oh surprise, sue sylvester is trying to take down the glee club", "oh no, finn and quinn (gag) are back together?", "oh gosh, vocal adrenaline blah blah" but i'm hoping watching this show like a normal gLeek will alleviate the problems i faced as a completely obsessive glee-monger during the month of august.

with that, i wholeheartedly beg forgiveness for being judge judy about this show after one viewing (granted, i did hate that episode a lot when i saw it).  it's true - everybody wishes they had friends who could burst into song at the drop of a hat (and a creepy pianist and plethora of talented orchestra/band students on call to accompany any musical outburst) to describe the kind of day you're having at william mckinley high.  when we watch glee, we can pretend that accompanied, choreographed musical numbers are a real thing and if we convince enough of our friends to do the same, we might just have an opportunity to change the world here.  GLEE!

also, hats off to reminding us how awesome this song (not like we needed the reminder, but still)!

72. preach a sermon

let me begin by coming clean:  i have technically preached a sermon before -- once, in high school, i "preached" for our youth sunday service, but i'm pretty sure my topic was faith.  nailed it! definitely covered all my bases there.

aside from the two sermons that i gave for my 8-person preaching group in my gospel of john class, i would say that i officially preached my first sermon today (to a group of people who were not also preparing to preach a sermon on similar topics).  after a year of interning at the Upper Room, i was asked to participate in the weekly chapel service.  this morning, i preached on the story in Genesis when Jacob wrestles with the angel and gets a new name.  if you're interested, you can read it below:

it was scary, but i'm glad i did it.  thanks to john and claire (the only two people i informed of this event) for coming to support me, as well as all my UR peeps for holding me up through this entire year. i'm thankful :)

Let's Get Ready to Rumble

Jacob is a wrestler. He’s been wrestling his entire life -- since before he was even born!  In the womb, he wrestled with his twin brother, Esau.  At birth, he was unsuccessful in his fight with Esau to be the first born.  When he was older, he teamed up with his mother Rebecca to deceive his father and wrestle away his blessing of the firstborn.  After leaving home, he consistently wrestled with his uncle Laban over matters of property, flocks, and his daughters.  Now, we see Jacob wrestle with God.  

He’s been wrestling with God his whole life too -- Jacob has always insisted on taking matters into his own hands. Some of us know what that’s like -- we know that God is greater than we are, created the heavens and the earth, but we know about this great shortcut that might get things done a little faster and easier.  We know God loves us and holds us, yet we’re not quite sure that God knows better than we do what’s best for us.  So we wrestle free and chart our own paths of more and more wrestling with the world.

Jacob is a man on the move.  He’s transitioning between a life of productive trickery on the land of his uncle Laban to his home of Canaan, where he has also been known to do some sleight of hand.  He’s headed home, by God’s command, and he knows that he will have to reunite with his twin brother.  Having sent all of his herds ahead of him, along with his family, Jacob hopes that a peace offering of many flocks will help to clear the air between himself and his brother Esau -- Esau, who he hasn’t seen since stealing his first-born blessing and skipping town.   To say the least, Jacob is not exactly expecting Esau to be awaiting him with open arms, but as we read in verse 3 of the previous chapter, “The Lord told Jacob, ‘Return to the land of your ancestors and to your kindred, and I will be with you.’”  So Jacob moves forward, knowing that God is with him. 

So, after sending his crowd across the stream, Jacob is alone.  He has no idea how things are going to play out tomorrow.  He does know that his brother is headed that way with 400 others and he knows that they didn’t part ways on good terms.  He knows that he’s taken what wasn’t his, lied about who he was, and wrestled his way into a life of struggle, pain, and division. 

Now, because the Bible is not written like a screenplay and the transitions are not always super clear, the appearance of this man or angel is up to our interpretation.  For dramatic effect, I’m going to propose that maybe this divine messenger pops out of a shrub and starts wrestling Jacob to the ground.  I’m not sure it’s an important detail - but it’s how it happens in my head. 

They wrestle all. night. long.  We know from Jacob’s history that he knows how to wiggle his way out of sticky situations and get what he wants.  Yet, he holds on and doesn’t let go of this man.  When the man sees that he’s not going to escape Jacob’s grasp, he asks Jacob to release him and Jacob says, “No, I will not let you go, unless you bless me.”  So the man says, “What is your name?” What is your name?  

When the man or angel asks Jacob this question, what he’s really asking is far more than a initial introductory question.  He’s asking “WHO ARE YOU?”  He’s asking Jacob to reveal himself.  He’s calling Jacob to own his past and to claim identity and ownership for all the things he has done.  For Jacob, answering the question, “WHO ARE YOU” means remembering the time that he lied to his father, telling him that he was Esau to receive a blessing not meant for him.  When he answers, “Jacob” - it’s almost a confession.  It’s me, Jacob --the one who has been fighting and lying and deceiving since I was born.  It’s me. I am Jacob.  

Sometimes in the most vicious of wrestling matches with God, we fall to our knees, gasping for breath, admitting that we are the broken ones who thought we could make it on our own.  I’m the one who can never get enough.  I’m the one who would rather serve myself than love my neighbor.  I’m the one who holds back on following God because this route is more convenient for me.  A wrestling match with God will bring a person to that point.  That’s why Jacob doesn’t let go -- he can’t.  He’s alone and afraid.  He has to face the reality of who he is and what he’s done and he clings to God because God is all that Jacob has.  The angel recognizes that Jacob did not let go of God, and so he blesses him, as requested. 

A blessing is not all that this angel-man gives him.  He gives him a new name.  Jacob certainly lived into his old name, which means “supplanter, heel-catcher, deceiver.”  Jacob will now be called Israel, because he struggled with God and with men and prevailed.  God gives him a new name.  A new identity.  He doesn’t have to be Jacob anymore-- Jacob, the deceiver, Jacob, the liar, the con-man, Jacob, the second best, Jacob, the one who sits by the water alone in anticipation of facing the many shortcomings of his past and the brother he betrayed, Jacob - no more.  He is now Israel - a man of honor who has prevailed, “God-wrestler”.  He is no longer Jacob, the one who wrestles without God, but Israel, the one who prevails with God.  

This is a story of transformation.  God’s extravagant and unconditional love has the power to transform us, to give us a new name.  God gives us a new name.  We don’t have to be called “lonely”, “anxious”, “lost”, “confused”, “ashamed”, “damaged”, “discouraged” because God has a new name for each of us.  Now, this is no news to God because we’ve always been God’s beloved - instead, this new name is given to us, not to describe us as people loved by God, but to identify us as such.  When I ask “Who are you?”, I’m not asking what you do for a living or where you’re from - those are things that you do, not who you are.  Who are you? You are a Beloved Child of God.  

We all know what it’s like to wrestle with God.  We are all going to have nights where we wrestle with God until daybreak and times when we feel so alone and lost, but God is there with grace and unconditional, transforming love to remind us who we are and whose we are. Who are you?  You are a Beloved Child of God.  Amen.

6. contribute to thanksgiving dinner

it's hard to remember all the way back to november. it was, in fact, 8 months ago today that i did this: 

...stuck my hand inside a turkey's ass

...while i was contributing to our wonderful thanksgiving dinner!! now, we booths/allens don't mess with stuffing a turkey - we have cornbread dressing in a pan like good southerners.  i was merely performing this glamorous duty in order to get the package of gizzards and other innards out of the bird. thanks, perdue, for your poultry products.  it's certainly nicer to keep the guts of the turkey in a bag IN the turkey rather than just taping it to the underbelly.  

i know what you're thinking.  "whitney, removing the packaged gizzard is not a huge contribution."  i know, i know. i also smeared butter all over the bird AND monitored its cooking process.  you need someone with a good nose for a job like that and, boy, do i have one of those.  

i also made these delicious (so i've heard) pecan pies.  check out those concentric circles! 

the publix pilgrims approve. 

thanksgiving is obviously the best holiday of the year - only 4 months until we get to do it again! 

stuff

last night, john and i watched this movie called "the joneses", starring david duchovny and demi moore (who i'm almost positive i haven't seen in a film since "now and then").  it's on netflix instant for your viewing pleasure.

(the rest of the post contains plot-related content. no spoilers that aren't already on the movie poster.)

the joneses are not a normal family that has just moved in next door,  but one that is planted in certain neighborhoods to increase sales of expensive products to their neighbors.  this is their job - the "dad" spends his day at the golf course, showing off his gadgets and persuading other rich guys that they too need the coolest new thing.  the mom sets off for a long day of hair, nails, facials, familiarizing herself with the women who will envy her lifestyle. the kids (who appear to be 24-year old high schoolers) take care of themselves - apparently it's more interesting to showcase the extent of the gotta-have-its in adults, who have seen enough to know that it's not worth it to buy unaffordable things just to have them.

i would venture to say that i ride the simplicity train.  i'm no shane claiborne, but i really don't overdo it.  the majority of my money, outside of rent and bills, is spent on food (restaurants and groceries), with the occasional trip to the movies (usually with a groupon) or a concert ticket or something.  during the move, i realized how much stuff has accumulated, but it's not nearly as much as it would be if i didn't wear the same clothes that i'd had since i was a junior in high school (weight watchers, WHAT UP).  if i'm going to buy something, i'd rather it be useful for the long-term (like a piece of furniture) or something that i can consume or remember (food/wine/experience).  i'm definitely spending money on things i don't need, but i don't have a ton of stuff lying around that's not being used. it's a fair balance - it works for me and i don't feel guilty for having things while people are sleeping in boxes.

but when i was watching this movie, i found myself envying the joneses' lifestyle. what would it be like to move into a new house, then jet off the next day for a day of self-pampering (with all the fancy, amazing-smelling products that i never opt to buy after my discounted haircuts) because you're "just a mess".  false, demi moore. i will show you a mess.  here i am having a hernia over spending $80 on three things from the j.crew final sale and refusing to take care of (dye) my rapidly spreading grey patch of joe booths (thanks for the genes, dad) until i go home because i don't want to spend money that i don't have to spend (my hair girl at home is awesome and about 1/3 of the nashville price).  i don't know that i'll ever grow out of that, even if i am swimming in gold coins like scrooge mcduck one day, and i'm not sure it's a bad thing.

buying things we don't need just perpetuates the principle that stuff is important.  it's not.  while it would be nice to be the upper echelon of glamour and expensive smells, i'm not sure that it's good for anything at all.  if stuff makes us happy and it's good to be happy, then i'm not going to stand in the way of that conditional statement working itself out for some people.  if stuff makes us feel worthy, however - where does that stop? when is enough enough?  if your house caught on fire, it would all be gone in a flash, and i don't think anyone would be running out of the burning building with an armful of iPads, clothes, or hair products- just something to think about.

eleven percent

i don't know if many of you know this, but sometimes i'm a little psychic.  i mean, i can't tell you if you're gonna get a raise or if you'll meet your dream girl this year BUT sometimes i startle myself with my keen intuition.  example:  on more than one occasion, i've been thinking of a song and impulsively punched one of the radio pre-set buttons and SHAZAM - the song is on the radio.  PSYCHIC MOMENT.  or sometimes i'll be talking about a friend and WHAPAHH, they show up later that night. PSYCHIC MOMENT. 

if you're thinking, "um, someone needs to tell whitney that she's acting the fool," you can give your texting fingers a rest.  i know i'm not totally psychic, but that stuff does happen -- which brings me to my next example.  yesterday, i was thinking about how i should probably look back through my 101 in 1001 list to see how i'm progressing. i was thinking i was probably getting close to the one-year mark. i opened the page to see that my list began on JULY 20, 2010.  INSANITY! 

the point of this post is no longer about my psychic abilities (although i will keep you posted with more convincing examples when they creepily arise in my life), but about the shameful progress i'm making on my 101 list.  i now have 635 days left to complete 89% of the things on my list.  sure, some of them are in progress.  i am getting somewhere on my alphabetical movie watching and i haven't had a haircut in a while, but in order to get the blog rate up to an average of 10 per month, i'm going to have to blog every other day for the next 1.75 years, which is just not likely based upon my previous behavior.  

it's time to start setting some short-term goals to get this stuff done - let me know if you want to join in for any of the fun! and by fun, of course, i mean - let me know if you want to go hold my hand while we donate blood together. 

the preemptive strike(through)

as you may have gathered from sitting next to me during any lecture/meeting or perusing my poorly-cared-for blog, i'm a fan of the list.  if i'm going to get anything at all done, it's beyond likely to make an appearance on a list prior to its completion (and sometimes afterward, for the gratifying experience of the handwritten strike-through).  the only problem with this meticulous habit is that if something fails to make the list, you can rest assured that it is completely forgotten.  this becomes most apparent with packing lists. try spending a week at church camp with one pair of underwear. yikes.

in the past year (while i've been busy not blogging), i've even gone as far as to experiment with a new task management tactic -- are you ready for this? -- striking something off the list BEFORE it's finished. WHAT?  take a moment to put your socks back on if you need one.  it gives a little extra incentive to make hay while the sun shines because you're not gonna let your list make a liar out of you, are you soldier? hell no, you aren't! 

consider this post a list item in itself.  i'm committing to catching up on my blog and keeping up for all my faithful followers (yes, all four of you).  i'm boldly and confidently crossing it off. 

i feel happy of myself

i don't typically post cute videos or funny interweb spawn on my blog, but this kid is just too awesome.

to jeg or not to jeg?

for the first time in my entire life, i have run into this strange and foreign predicament:  

my jeans are too big.

yes, it's true.  i can get one (maybe two) good wears out of them after a laundry rotation, but then they're all bunched up in the back and in the legs again.  if any of this sounds like complaint, let it be known:  i embrace those loose jeans like i wish i could embrace the daily chips and guac and the nightly entire block of cheese.  alas, these two joys are incompatible.

since i'm planning on several more months of the fried cheese drought, i'm not exactly pumped to run out and spend another $70 on a solid pair of jeans... soooo it has been proposed by the wise women in my family that i invest in some jeggings. they're cheap. they always fit.  they're trendy... but are they?

i mean.  JEGGINGS.  given my affinity for wordplay, i'm naturally wooed by this fabulous combination of leg coverings.  unfortunately, my affinity for wordplay (along with my love for watching 30 rock re-runs and writing blogs about jeggings) has interfered with a life-long understanding of what is fashionable and what is really really not.  i haven't bought any new clothes in months (due to the cheese drought and crippling stinginess) and i'm in desperate need of someone to guide my sense of couture. that's right. couture = something french having to do with fashion, i think.

so i reach out to you, the eight people who read my blog... jeggings:  HOT OR NOT?  were they cool in the winter but out for summer?  i am clued in enough to know that leggings are not pants and IF worn as pants, there needs to be a long, tunic-like top to cover the butt region.  my gorgeous and fashion-savvy friend MC was pulling them off (figuratively) in a big way at christmas-- and her snazzy jeggings had pockets and a zipper.  are they just tight, stretchy jeans? or are they the solution to all of my problems?

i'm thanking the good lord above that i have found time in these last few weeks of the semester to consult my peers on this pressing matter.  happy wednesday, y'all. :) 

jesus wept

i wrote this piece for the Alive Now blog last week.  i pared it down from a sermon i gave last semester for my gospel of john class -- kinda made me wonder if my sermon should have been this short to begin with :) 

Any clever Sunday school student knows to look to John 11 when it’s time for mandatory scripture memorization.  It’s the shortest verse in the Bible, in most translations, yet it’s packed with such a huge message about who Jesus is and how God loves us. Two little words – Jesus wept.

Jesus has been roaming around healing people and performing miracles, but when he hears that his friend Lazarus has fallen ill and died, he doesn’t rush to the rescue like everyone expects. He says Lazarus is “sleeping,” even though he knows that he has died, because Jesus knows that this death is not permanent and that Lazarus will walk again.  When he finally walks into town, Lazarus’ sisters greet him.  Martha trusts that Jesus has a plan to revive her brother, but Mary reacts to Jesus’ delayed arrival with the expected, fearful hysteria of a grieving sister.  She isn’t joyful that Jesus has finally arrived, but angry that he waited so long because now it is too late.  Mary’s hope has run out.

Jesus has a plan though.  He didn’t walk all the way to Bethany four days late to attend a funeral, but to raise Lazarus from the dead.  He knew when he got there that Lazarus was dead (but not for long).  Yet he stops and weeps with Mary and the others grieving at the tomb.  He’s not crying because he’s sad about his dead friend – he knows that’s about to change.   Why does he cry, then?  Jesus stops to be with Mary, Martha, and their friends in their time of deepest sorrow.

When all seems dark and hopeless, instead of swooping in and fixing things, Jesus meets us in our moment of pain before fulfilling the promises that God has made to God’s people.

This aspect of Jesus’ ministry is so crucial to our understanding of God and God’s place in the world.  To know a God who loves us enough to stop and cry with us, knowing full and well that the grief will be alleviated in a matter of minutes—to feel the love of God who sits with us in ICU waiting rooms, on the snowy sidewalk, or alone in our homes—this is a God we need behind us as we attempt to carry out our ministries, bringing hope to the hopeless.

We don’t have to have experienced a person’s pain to sit with them in solidarity.  Jesus shows us how to join a person where they are, to love them because they are hurting; and that’s enough.  Unfortunately, we can’t always heal the sick or bring back loved ones, but we can be reminders of God’s eternal presence by imitating Jesus and sitting with others in their sorrow.  We are made to love, whatever the circumstances, and love we shall.

check out the post!

put me in, coach

as i sit here today, in the major league baseball desert of tennessee, i find myself pining for the sweet smells of freshly cut grass and jumbo hot dogs rotating on their metal spires above the popping hot oil.  my mouth is literally filled with saliva thinking about a cold coors light and a bag of peanuts.  it is time.  opening day.

as an eye-witness to the pre-season spring training games for braves, phillies, pirates, blue jays, mets, and cardinals, i am pleased to report that i know nothing about the potential outcomes of these teams' performances but am beyond excited that it's time for the regular season.  i envy the children who have been taken out of school to step out from under the stadium to get their first sunburns of the season while watching their heroes do what they do best.  i'm dying to be there when the braves will return home to turner field next weekend to be greeted by a sea of enthusiastic fans rejoicing their victory (in progress) over the nationals.  also, the avett brothers are playing the post-game concert tomorrow.  too much jealousy.

what more could you want in life?  there are people pummeling baseballs with wooden sticks into crowds of fans.  men and women carry enormous buckets of cold beer and coke around to your seats.  there are HUGE dispensers of mustard for you to slather all over your hotdog (and sometimes a child will run right into you afterward and most of the mustard will get smeared into his hair, so you will have to reapply).  you sit outside in the sun, sip your cold, refreshing beverage, and thank god for a game that allows for such peaceful, yet engaging, spectatorship.  HOW AM I EXPECTED TO MAKE IT THROUGH FOUR MORE WEEKS OF SCHOOL?

for now, i will continue in my personal ritual of watching "fever pitch" in celebration of opening day, pretending that i was a red sox fan before 2004, and settling in peace with the fact that i love two teams.  if the world series ever comes down to red sox - braves, i'm in trouble and will have a existential dilemma to solve. until then, i'm ok straddling the fence.

the real celebration is this:  the darkness of winter has passed, the sun has come out, and now my parents will have something to watch at night besides "criminal minds".  i raise a banana (because here in the divinity school refectory i have no beer, no hot dog, and no peanuts) to the ol' ball game.  we're almost there.  PLAY BALL.

shut up and listen

if you've ever met me or read any earlier posts, you may have gleaned that i perpetually battle with patience.  come on, spring. come on, summertime. why are you still driving the speed limit when i'm so clearly about to drive right into your backseat?  i get myself into jams when i have a little bit of time to complete a task (because, as we all well know, if you wait until the last minute, it only takes a minute. am i right!?) and then any natural interference in my streamlined determination is subject to move or be moved by the superhuman attempt to accomplish things at lightning speed.

on monday morning, i was attempting to neatly cram all information regarding the apostle paul into my wee brain when a co-worker (about whom i have been known to complain quite a bit) stopped me to ask me for some personal advice.  TODAY? right now? can't you see that i'm actually busy and not watching 30 rock or cougartown? i've come to expect my time at that specific job to be designated homework/staring into space time, which is healthy for everyone in small doses i think.  so you can imagine my frustration when at the last minute that i have kept available for myself to study for a test on a more-than-mildly confusing subject, i'm asked for a moment of forced personal conversation.

lesson is learned for the ump-teenth time that i should learn more progressively instead of memorizing the study sheets that i spent too much time making; however, that is not the point.  it never is.  everything always gets done and i am still able to fall asleep at night and wake up the next morning.

as if i had a choice, i put my study guide down and listened to this person's problem.  we talked about it again today.  the fact that i'm stressed out because i put too much on my plate is not important.  the nobility with which i begrudgingly agreed to sit back and listen is not to be congratulated.  the pleasant un-surprise is that giving someone time and attention, especially when you don't have it to give, moves us to see people differently and consider our own role in this mess of humanity.  it isn't that hard to shut up and listen, as much as i love to talk and/or be left alone, but it isn't easy.  nothing that's ever worth it is.

breathe in, breathe out

inhale, exhale.  here we are:  mid-march.  we're past the potential late southeastern snow date (march 14. everyone knows this.) but it's still not quite warm. i'm emerging from my blog-hibernation of excessive countdown lists and pre-dated posts and i am BACK.  (no offense, john cantu, but i don't want people to wander on over to "at whit's end" and assume it's just some chick blogging about how awesome her boyfriend is.)  so it's time for a change.

it's time for spring!  it's time for rebirth and renewal and resurrection. but first, it's time for lent.

i'm not giving anything up for lent this year.  i haven't done that in several years, but many lenten seasons in my past have been overshadowed with an absence of cokes, red meat, listening to hanson (no joke), and caffeine in an attempt to focus my attention toward the cross.  i'm not sure that hope was ever realized for me, but i know many people find great consolation with god by removing something from their life (or adding something) in order to attune ourselves with the nature of what is about to happen in the liturgical season of lent.  

this season, i've heard a lot water-cooler talk about really pro-active lenten sacrifices.  i'm not sure that it counts for double-credit as both a spiritual discipline and a 40 day self-help project to be healthier or obtain a better middle-school status by distancing yourself from a socially crippling love for three long-haired boys from tulsa (not the case - sadly, that really was a spiritually-minded sacrificial forty days).  power to you for being a go-getter, but maybe think before labeling it as a lenten sacrifice. 

as a spiritual discipline for myself, unrelated to the season of lent (but maybe not completely unrelated), i am committing to getting back into a routine of writing.  hopefully that means some of you will find yourselves in a routine of reading and we can all have a good time together.  

we don't have to commit to unreasonable goals in order to make room for god this season.  we are called to make room in our lives to receive the season and prepare ourselves for the holy week of death and resurrection.  in order to breathe in the holy spirit, it might help to breathe out something else that's taking up space.  

#1 john cantu

and finally, the moment you've all been waiting for...  the best part of my 2010... which is already obvious because you can read it in the title.....  the wonderful mr. john cantu.

first date = 3 day trip to vegas

nobody can make me laugh like this one.

sometimes people take candid pictures of us that look like they were posed but they weren't...

we are dancing fools and we clean up pretty nicely

the first of many epic world-wide adventures

i trust him with my life (obviously - that is the look of trust)

thank god we love the same music :)

best year ever! 

john cantu, i love you and can undoubtedly say that 2010 would not have been half as righteously awesome if it weren't for you. for the sake of public mushiness, i'm gonna leave that at that. you know how much ilubya. :)

#2 my 24th bday

what's better than turning 24?  

turning 24 while eating delicious mexican food and drinking large cervezas with 20 of your besties and having a group of mexican gentlemen put dollops of whip cream on your face.

 that's right.

cinco de mayo knows how to do a birthday. 

#3 guatemala

sometimes you go on a trip knowing that it's going to be unforgettable.  then you're hit with a plethora of natural disasters and that inkling is affirmed.

our trip to guatemala in may was great -- we spent the first week working at the hospitalito, sifting gravel and pushing wheelbarrows up hills for 5 days and then spending the evenings swimming & hot-tubbing with mozas and gallos before our epic yet inexpensive dinners at the posada.

work hard, play hard - we're serious about that (at least while we were in santiago atitlan)

then we went to antigua -- beautiful, historic antigua. -- for one night only! 

 

oh wait, just kidding. volcanos, mudslides, tropical storm agatha -- let's spend 2 more days here. no, 3. no, 5. no, a week. 

once we recovered from the immediate jarring shock that we have no control over our global position and missing work is absolutely inevitable at this point, we resorted to a lot of awesome behavior.

mandatory vacation? yes, por favor.

i couldn't have asked for 9 better people with whom to be stranded in guatemala for a week. 

#4 surprise 4th of july

the 4th of july is the one family holiday gathering at which my attendance is no longer really expected.  most of my early double-digit years, i spent the 4th at y-camp.  when i was 16, i was at "nerd camp" at georgetown and saw some pretty unimpressive fireworks over the mall in D.C.  one year, the 4th fell during the last days of my study abroad in spain.  last year, britters and i spent our nation's holiday in canada. the most patriotic moment was seeing a group of guys clad with various MLB team hats and t-shirts, walking through the vancouver aquarium while singing the national anthem. go america. 

this year, i had spent the weeks prior driving to and from new mexico for a week at ghost ranch.  the cantu clan-tu was kind enough to drive up from san antonio to pick me up in dallas and bring me back to SA for a few days.  we drove from san antonio to nashville with joban in the floorboard - 16 hours in one day. naturally, let's turn around and drive to georgia in 4 more days to surprise my family who thinks i'm not coming home for the 4th of july this year! 

it was a great weekend -- we showed up with a little pup on a leash just in time for a big breakfast, a beautiful day of back-deck sitting and sipping, burgers and hotdogs, celebrating john's new job, fireworks -- the WORKS.  it was definitely the best 4th of july i can remember :)  moral of the story: sometimes it's worth it to drive another 10 hours in one week.  

#5 joban

one of the greatest things to come out of 2010 is our little flood puppy, mr. joban.  we love our little buddy boy, especially now that he doesn't cry all night anymore.  :)

he used to be the bittiest boy

he started to get bigger -- and so did his eye

we've had a little snip-snip and some subsequent lifestyle changes

sir lookiteeeeeeeem!