Iris Rain

Moving

2010-10-16T18:57:00.002-04:00

I will now be writing on

danamray.blogspot.com

Thanks!

Some Brief Thoughts on Proselytizing

2010-07-21T00:27:00.000-04:00

I'm not even quite sure how to spell that word. What I mean is: evangelism in all its forms. Or even call it the active role of someone to persuade someone else that their belief is true. Sound like a general argument? Make it about religion and you have evangelism/proselytizing. An offering, presenting, of a belief to another person, stranger or otherwise, to convince them of its truth.

I'm a fan of this.

Most people today aren't and I can understand a little bit of why. It feels too harsh to establish a conversation or the temporary relationship between strangers on a street that is based on the premise of "You are wrong. I think this is truth. Listen to me."

But here is something I realized last Saturday as I sat on Ben's front porch in a suburb of Philadelphia and two very kind, very congenial Jehovah's Witnesses appeared to encourage me to "read my Bible": I'm really okay with people telling me I'm wrong. They did not notice that the Bible's were already out, pages crinkling in the breeze until a few minutes into the conversation. The tone changed very quickly. But something very interesting that my new friend Paul repeated several times, in his calming and cheerful voice, was that "We're not here to talk about who is right and who is wrong." Perhaps what he meant was that he and Marianne (the other Witness) did not have that on their agenda for that particular day. But at the core of it, that is exactly why they came to talk to us. Why else would they bother spending their Saturday mornings trying to find people with nothing to do and talk to them about God's name?

I told them right away that I was fine if they thought I was wrong and wanted to convince me to become a Jehovah's Witness. I understand that. I really do. I also realized right then that it makes it a lot easier to have an honest conversation if both people agree to those playing rules.

It wasn't meant to be, however. While the conversation led a convoluted and very interesting course (a great deal about the divinity of Christ and me openly questioning their Bible translation), I could not get them to explain why it was that they felt it so important to come talk to us and tell us that Jesus wasn't God. They didn't even get to the part about us becoming Jehovah's Witnesses to be saved. I really wanted them to. I know that is what they were after. And I saw that my desire to have them just tell their agenda instead of coxing me into it was not going with their own evangelism training. I know because I have been trained in evangelism and have done it before in different, contexts, settings, and methods.

This isn't a new frustration for me, I'm realizing. Back at WVA, age 14, I was very upset when our witnessing Wednesday consisted of giving a "survey" about the 10 Commandments and then trying to slide into apologetics from there. It is why I was frustrated with the really sweet and kind mormon woman who stopped me by the library with a survey on the prophets. I don't want to answer your survey. I want to talk to you about what you believe and what you hold onto so passionately. Just tell me. I won't hate you if you think I'm wrong and I hope you won't hate me if I think you're wrong. We can still be friends. This can still be civil. This can be honest when we say what we're after.

And then, maybe, we can actually talk about truth.

Restaurant Work

2010-07-20T12:49:00.000-04:00

It is July 20 and I have been at the Nittany Lion Inn for over a month now. It is a steady job, steady work, very tiring, and exactly what I've needed this summer. I'm wondering what it will look like in the fall to be a server there, but for now, I'm a DRA: dinning room attendant. I set up and take down buffets, I clean things, break down trays, fill in the holes, take up room services.

It's pretty messy. And awkward at times. As my roommate said, "I'm still trying to figure out how a standard, classic like white dress shirt, black pants, and black apron could go so very wrong." I agree. First time I put that uniform on I thought "Good Heavens! I'm a marshmellow!" Other awkward moments have been waking the wrong room up to give them breakfast and really hating it when men answer the door in their pjs or won't turn on the lights. I just about told one groggy dude to pull his pants up. Other times have been wonderful, especially when I could bring food to a mom and her kids, or someone who is in State College because they are alumns and just wanted to come back for a time. I think the interactions with people have been my favorite part of this whole thing, which is why I'm training to be a server and should start that soon. While I can do the routine work and kind of like it, my favorite times are when I can interact with others and serve them somehow.

The attitude towards work is very different than any place I've yet been employed. So far my credentials include: janitor, research/lab tech person, kids crafts store, writing tutor, RA, and camp counselor. Of all of these, janitor is closest to what I am actually doing each day. However, the setting of Hershey E Free under the superb leadership of Dain Kulp and Ron Hoover, combined with crazy detailed work people like Nate Davidson, Mike Wolgemouth, hard and long and never weary workers like Josh Wagner, eternally cheerful like Amy Nicholson and Hannah Ray (oh those Disney song hours in the bathrooms!), just seem a bright contrast to the attitudes that can spread like a cold in a day care center in the Inn! Part of it could be encapsulated in a conversation I had with a server when I was lamenting not being able to hang out with the retired faculty that eat lunch with us every Wednesday. She said, "Why should you care? You'll make better money doing this. I wouldn't do this job if it weren't for money." Hm... in a way, that is very, very true. Working in a restaurant doesn't exactly count as anyone's top ten favorite things to do. Getting paid is absolutely imperative. And yet, why shouldn't hanging out with a group of older folks who take an interest in your life and you in theirs be more interesting and desirable than making tips over at this table?

Another thing about restaurants: if they pretend to be fancy... they probably aren't as fancy as they want you to think. Or half as clean.

There is quite a cast of characters who work in the kitchen. It's a whole world unto itself and I get confused if I see them wandering around real life without their different uniforms on, whether its Chef Andy without his white jacket and fluffy hat (so I don't know real names of these things yet) or Samantha or Gail without their brightly colored, cold side hats and checkered pants, or even me at the end of the day when I change into normal clothes again. Gail would be one of my favorites. She's woman from China who knows what she wants and gets it, but also remembers your name and asks you cheerfully every morning how you are doing and tries so hard when you need something from her. Chef Andy is an older chef and sings when you get there in the morning over his eggs and homefries. He also remembers names and when you ask how he is, he replies (without fail to everyone) "Oh much better now that you're here!" There is Mills, the son of a military family who walks and behaves as if he was in it himself. Wes and Jon are the clowns, the perpetrators and the brunt of every joke and snide remark that goes on. It's an interesting crowd and one that I enjoy studying, all the while desperately keeping my head out of the drama. You can smell it in the place but I'm still ignorant as to what it is and where it started, for which I am quite grateful. If I can keep this up till next summer, it promises to be excellent!

India: HOINA, Vizak, 12 Days

2010-07-12T21:37:00.000-04:00

It is hard to believe that in 12 days I will be leaving JFK airport and flying 18 hours to India. Hard to believe? I suppose I should call it impossible to believe. I don't think I've even talked about preparing for it that much. 8 undergrad students. 2 grad students. Andhra Pradesh on the coast for 3 weeks. In a children's home started by a Penn State alumn.

I don't suppose many will have been apart of this, but I was thinking about Mom's geography/missionary class in co-op back in the day. I was remembering the day we did races and games with different bags of laundry and buckets of water balanced on our heads that we pulled up from the creek behind the church. I was out to beat Tim Warren if it killed me. I think we both attacked the other with the water buckets at the end of the day.

And remembering Aradhna music group and the cd of worship music I have from them in Hindi. Their visits to the Efree church was one of the first times that I felt... what word would express it?... solidarity? Unity? Connection? Belonging? to a church and Body of Christ far beyond the small spaces I had known.

And now I am going through Penn State for 3 weeks. 21 days. Four of which are travelling to and from. A language I don't speak. A landscape I can't imagine. Knowing that I have only known spaces that were either American or frightfully close (Denmark at age 5 does not count).

A joy in going is that I will be sharing it with my two housemates in Patty's Place next year. Both Sarah Bednarcick and Maggie Cox will be on the team of students, for which I am so grateful and excited! Maggie and I took a picnic tonight and talked about going, about all the prep work we haven't done and need to do, finding nurses pants, buying baby powder, thinking about how to shave while we're there, how will the food affect our stomachs... and just getting our minds into believing that this inevitable and significant change is coming.

But then again, I remember something that Nellie (the Peace Corps recruiter at PSU) told me: don't expect too much from it. You might go and "feel" or see nothing. It might just be okay. It might even be a below average trip. That's okay. Just wait. Wait a few weeks, or months, or years. Wait until you go somewhere else. Wait until you meet someone from there on the street in an American city. Wait until you are in class and you understand a book that you've never understood in that way before. Just wait and don't count too much on your emotions to tell you what was and was not an important trip.

And so I ask for prayers. I ask for prayers in the confusing and slow preparations and in the many ways I have no idea what I'm going for or what I'll be "doing". It is hard to even know what to ask prayer for.

So a vague list, that I trust will be filled in by you:

-preparation itself is confusing and I don't even know where to begin. Pray that I find time and efficiency and quality prayer before I go.

-I am very easily emotionally drained and I know this will be hard. Pray that our spirits hold and that we will see how best to witness to and love our teammates and the people at HOINA.

-Clarity of learning. This trip may have very little to do with what we bring to India but what India wishes us to take back with us through learning, through experience. Pray that we will learn as we ought, humbly, and see what needs to be done with it.

-The return process. We start school four days after returning. Jet lag. All three house mates moving into Patty's Place (our home) all at once on said jet lag.

-Reverse culture shock. First week of class. Sounds like a crazy recipe for disaster. I'd like it to be a fun adventure.

And what am I looking forward to (that maybe I will regret later)?

-Wearing Indian garb (pronounced "churies")

-Learning to play cricket

-Buying chai tea for less than 50cents every day.

-Reading aloud from books with the girls.

-Taking too many pictures.

-Meeting and playing with the girls at the school.

-Chapel and prayer with the kids.

-Arguing and laughing with Andy Goga.

-Helping with meals.

-Seeing mountains and the Indian ocean.

-Writing while I'm there and putting together a project when I get back!

Soon. 12 days. Unbelievable.

A Love Letter

2010-07-06T14:10:00.002-04:00

Dear Websters Bookstore and Cafe,

I heard today that you are dying. I wanted to say before you are good and truely gone, as you are breathing your final breaths, that I love you. I couldn't let you go before I told you that.

I have so many memories with you. Of you. From you. In you. Around you. When I walked through your front door my first week of school three years ago, I knew State College was going to be home. Of all the things I have spent money on, I spent money on you. I bought books. I bought tea. I bought my first fruit smoothie in town right there and drank it in the front window while talking with Sarah Joy. Do you remember the first book I bought there? I don't. There have been so many. Many many hours of joy. And my first finals week, I went there on a Tuesday Night with all the Allen Street lights aglow and it was cold and I was scared to walk by myself so I waited inside until a friend came to go with me. I drank tea and read a book and thought, "My God, this world is a good place." And Sojourn Forum in the back corner, pushing our welcome past closing time. I took Emma to see you last week, remember? I brought Emma, the highschool student, and she said "I could come here knowing that Websters exists." Ben and I going there after our walk in the snow, cold and hungry, and eating a sandwich instead of watching the super bowl and being so much happier in that purple evening than anywhere else on earth. And the times I met with Katie Fisher and caught up with her on life. And trying to buy Katie Stick a mug of tea and she wouldn't let me. Seeing Charlotte Holmes at the counter and you mixing up our orders so that we got to talk longer and have something to laugh about together, professor and student all in an accidental and joyful encounter. And Seth Martin. Oh my, I feel like he is disappearing with you. I would come in to have him know who I was and say hello. He gave me cyan pepper tea when I had a runny nose and was so unhappy. And the days when I couldn't wake up and was depressed because of my parents... I would drink Elaine's blend and be comforted. So comforted. So many hours and days and dollars and coins. I am a college student. I don't have hours and days and dollars and coins. But I gave them to you anyway.

I loved your mugs. They were blue and green and brown and fit just so in my hand. I could even get a mug to go, one that had the world on it. Remember the time that Eric Levi and I drew on our mugs to show each other where we had been in the world and where we were dreaming of going? And smell of coffee and paper and people and fresh soup being heated up in the back. The smell of people smoking cigarrettes right outside the front door. The sound of rain off the front eaves and people sitting out there anyway in the coldest weather. The fog of the front window when it was warm and toasty inside, and cold and wet outside. The abundant, badly made fliers for local events. Local artwork that was strange and out of the ordinary. Seeing proffessors and friends and pastors and workers and everyone passing each other at the counter.

And when I was supposed to meet people at Panera, I would get tea with you and then go there. I liked your tea better. Always your tea was better.

I'm sorry Jesse and I broke the tea strainer. We didn't mean to.

I can't remember many times that I walked through and didn't buy anything. I'm sorry for the times that I did, though.

I am sorry for the times I cheated on you with Starbucks. I can say that nothing statisfied like you did. Nothing. I would take back every frappacino I have ever had in my life if that meant you could stay alive and well.

And the books. I bought a first edition of a Lloyd Alexander book. I wouldn't have known if the kind man at the counter who always finds me in the children's section hadn't told me. And Katherine Patterson. And almost every birthday and Christmas present for my siblings in three years. I even bought my dad a present there just last week. Tea. Royal Bengal Tiger. A new favorite. The education cartoons. My little brothers very first Calvin and Hobbes book that he bought with his own money. A copy of Shadow Spinner to give to a friend. Finding lots of Dorothy Sayers tucked away. The only store I know that stocks philosophy books.

I wrote most of my stories within your walls. I would sit at a desk for hours to escape my dorm room. I wrote most of the second college story and all of its revisions in a back side corner. I started drafts for Hummingbird and for The Women while drinking tea. I tried to think about Gwyn and her life on a dark and gloomy day there as well. Where am I going to go now?

I loved you so much I even started leaving tips in the tip jar. You were my first mention of why I loved State College when I moved. You and trees. What other business in the world would be equated with trees in my heart?

It can't be true. Please tell me it isn't true. You can't leave me.

Ever Yours,

Dana

"Christian Aesthetics"; or Thoughts on Apartment Living

2010-06-06T18:58:00.002-04:00

I have been living in State College nearly two weeks. #12 Grimmauld Place (the code name for my apartment on Vairo Blvd) is clean and in order. Jillian and I are settling into a routine of very different work lives and cooking and eating and cleaning and spending vast amounts of time at the Duplex in town. Much of it has felt like "vacation" to me and not like living in a real place at all but it begins to feel less and less so as I go about grocery shopping weekly, buying my own milk, doing laundry in machines right by my room, and having/using/cleaning a kitchen. While there are overlaps and similarities between this kind of living and the life of a residence hall dweller (I have turned the living room into a kind of "office" that my old desk used to be), there are also some significant differences. I think comparisons will grow as I move farther and farther through time away from that brief three year period of res life existence, but one that has been brought to my attention is the way hospitality and aesthetics are considered.

The word "aesthetics" (especially when I say it with confidence) makes me sound really smart and pretentious. However, I've had my own fear of that word carefully and thoroughly dismantled as I've read "Rainbows for the Fallen World" by Calvin G. Seerveld this past week. I'm not finished reading the book, but his remarks on the role of art and creativity as work in Christian life have been humbling and perspective giving. One thing he has discussed in the second chapter "Obedient Aesthetic Life" is the necessity and glory of a full, complete life faithfulness to Christ that includes a new way of experiencing and knowing even our bodily senses. That is what he means by an "aesthetic Christian life": a life where the things we choose to see, the things we choose to touch, the things we choose to hear, the things we choose to smell, and felt, are not only chosen "things" but are renewed by seeing Christ's creative and sustaining hand in them. This can be done, he suggests, by even seeking out the humor and comedy in life, in doctrine, in worship, rejoicing even as God rejoices in His creation. I've really appreciated that none of this gets and abstract head nod from him in the book. He backs it up with sections on very immediate areas that this can be practiced, places we desperately need to consider how God would have us live in this world, without giving a new list of "laws" for us to follow.

-What do our clothes say about God's delight in the created world?
-When we use styrophoam cups, what are we saying about man's craftmanship? When we serve the food that keeps us alive on such utensils?
-How and when does eating food make us delight in that food and not in its utilitarian uses?

These are simply leading questions and areas that we could consider how to give God glory in everyday things. He isn't saying we have to go buy fine china, but it makes me wonder exactly why I would choose a mug over a paper cup if I could, and even more so a mug that has a nice handle and fits in my hand over just any mug, and why if my friend Maureen (or Sarah!) made it in her ceramics class I would enjoy that tea even more than I would in almost any other container. Not elitism, which, as he points out, is an aweful offspring of humanism that espouses man's continual movement upward on our invisible tower of babel towards God. I whole heartedly agree with Seerveld when he says that this is not to take our time and attention away from other things but it is a practice to infuse all things, from evangelism to preaching to quiet devotions, teaching, etc. It is not to be an "either/or" between the question of sending money to world missions and making our worship places beautiful. And it is not, on the small scale, means that for poor college students we must go out and spend heaps of money to have "beautiful" or "high end" things. That is consumerism. I think it has much more to do with taking what we do have and making of it what we can in the moment, buying, as we do, much of our food on coupons in the local paper and clothes by second hand and hand-me-downs from friends and dumpster diving to find our couches to glorify God in the made and crafted things.

All of this seemed to speak to the different way I've experience apartment life than residence halls, and even shed light on some of the smaller things that irked (or delighted) me about those three years. There is a lot more room for crafting a space around this kind of awareness in one's own apartment. Jillian and I unwittingly participated in this desire when we cleaned like crazy women the first day we had a chance in our summer home. There was greater ease, greater pleasure in having a place when it was clean, the dishes were put away, and we had a candle lit on the side table. While I valued the housing staff in Simmons Hall, there was something important about cleaning the place myself and feeling responsible for its appearance and atmosphere that I couldn't have sharing a building with 600 people. Res Life at Penn State, to their credit, really wants to make life a communal and even "aesthetic" experience though I don't think that last word is on any of their res life goal sheets. It isn't always possible in a res hall, but they try by giving us the chance to paint our hallways or make us do bulletin boards (I can't believe I'm saying this!) or door tags or at least getting the trash into the trashcans! An aesthetic life is, in its truest form, a life of considering others better than yourself.

My second response to thinking these things was feeling guilty and inadequate. I am not a very excellent person to craft a living space around such ideas. Going into Barb Baldner's home last week to make cinnamon rolls was itself a beautiful time, getting covered in flower and deliciousness, made possible by a very beautiful kitchen. She has many details in her home that communicate ease and hospitality from small pictures to the choice of her wallpaper, things that I would be very bad at choosing on my own. I imagine that making her house so easy and welcoming through sensual details has come over time and with practice.

( Barb Baldner, my Navs discipler, teaching me how to properly roll cinnamon roll dough!)

(The flour was flying and ended up on my nose!)

And it isn't just possible in one's own home. Again, I think of apartments that college students live in. It says a lot about values when you walk through someone's space. I visited another friend's apartment just yesterday and enjoyed how they arranged their shoes on the staircase going into the entrance, the color blue of their bowls, flowers in a vase, and pictures everywhere. The space wasn't huge but it was enough and they had clearly made an attempt to make it a good place to be in.

But as anyone who has lived with me can tell you, I am a terribly messy person. Not dirty, but my things tend to clutter up and my books fall over from their standing orders and my clothes fall out of the closet, and I tend to forget details in their entirety. Whatever am I to do? One thing I considered was that each has their own way of participating in this. Our WVA friend and faculty member, Mark Bertrand, does this through caring passionately about the production and printing of his Bible (http://www.bibledesignblog.com/). His wife, Laurie, through more craftiness than I've seen in anyone else I know (http://www.liquidpaper.typepad.com/)! I'm looking forward to living with my house mates for Patty's Place in the fall, with Sarah's care and attention for details and creativity, from making her own purses and welded and soldered bracelets (say "soldered" as "saudered", carefully and with attention. Isn't that a wonderful word?) and making each of the house inhabitants our own mugs, each colored to her interpretation of our personalities. Maggie cares for her appearance, for style and clothing; not in vanity but in wanting beauty in what she chooses to put on. It is very possible for part of this to be taking delight in the appearance of another, in the well chosen summer dress or head band or whatever. My current house mate for #12, Jillian, does it not through visible details (I insisted on the candles) but through an appalling skill in the kitchen (ours is currently covered in flower, dough, and the smell of yeast from her bread baking adventures!) that feeds many college bellies almost completely out of her own pocket. Even the Duplex, a place not associated with care for details or aesthetics especially if you pitched it to them as such, does act on a desire for it in their expertly assembled sound system for our frequent movie nights.

I'm left asking the question of what my role in all of this glory giving to God is in this new area of apartment living. I'm not good at any of the things I just listed, so I suppose I can begin by making sure that I am paying attention enough to enjoy and point it out when I find it. But that seems like it is not enough. I want to not just enjoy but participate in the making of such a living.

Perhaps I can start with making some of those Ray classic chocolate and butterscotch chip cookies!

Bear Story

2010-06-04T11:16:00.000-04:00

As you know, this story will include a bear. This bear, as the title of the story, will play a central role. Sorry for spoiling it but you must know that this is one of the most magnificently absurd things I have experienced.

I received a text from Mooney saying that there were folks going camping. I was immediately in on the plan and went back to my apartment after filling out work paper work to throw a sweatshirt, socks, and my glasses in a backpack. Mooney and Robbie appeared outside of #12 Grimmauld (code name for where I'm living this summer) and we visited Walmart to purchase the obligatory smore foods. While there, Mooney and I again discussed how we would handle being attacked by a bear. We had gone on a short trek up the side of a ridge just the week before and had heard strange animal noises down the ridge the other direction and this had sparked a long and humorous imagining of what it would mean for Dana to drive stick shift to get Mooney (who had valiantly defended her from attacking bear) to the hospital for severe mauling. Robbie laughed at said at least we should try not to mock anyone like Elisha and get bears called out on us. Mooney didn't know this story and it was shared with gleeful violence attached.

After many delays, we made it to the Firetower in Rothrock State Park at 9:45 or so. We sat in the dark for a long while until some other came. Started the fire, took a short walk in the woods to an overlook (which was, as I'm sure you can imagine, rather dark and gloomy with very little to see), and enjoyed not saying much of anything and eating. Our company was this: Jason Hunter, Eric Mooney, Robbie Parks, Carren Stika, and myself. Jason cooked some excellent chicken in tin foil in the fire. Carren had brought hotdogs and we ate them off of sticks since there wasn't any bread. Lots of chocolate was consummed. And then, heavy with food and warmed by the fire in the heavy, storm promising winds, we decided it was time to bed down.

The chose spot was in front of a small cabin near the base of the fire tower. It was locked but we thought that if it really did rain we could get on the porch pretty easily. One place that was considered was under a pine tree away from either of these locations and toward the start of a trail, but it was rejected when we realized that most of us didn't have ground mats. Here is the location: Jason and Robbie were by the cars. Mooney and Carren were moving her hammock over to the cabin. I was ahead of the lot with all my things in my hands moving towards the cabin. And just as I got to the edge of the trees, the cell phone tower blinked in just the write way to illuminate a moving shadow. My heart caught but I was certain I was seeing things (having just scared myself silly by thinking about the book "No Country For Old Men"). I turned on Jason's head lamp and there indeed was a black bear caught in walking right across the grass where we would have been sleeping in five minutes. I backed up and got back to the cars yelling "Guys! There is a bear!"

Jason and Robbie dropped what they were doing and tried to shine the light on the bear. Mooney and Carren didn't seem to hear though and kept walking towards the cabin. We all started yelling and they stopped. My heart was racing and I had no idea what we were going to do next. So we just stopped and watched it for a few moments. Mooney and Carren finally moved over towards us and we had the cars between us and the bear. But the bear wasn't going away! It just stayed there even while we put lights on it and talked and yelled and had no idea what to do. The food had just been put away and we could only imagine it had smelled things cooking and had come to find us.

We were all moving and confused and weren't sure what to do. When the bear wouldn't leave, Mooney finally said, "Get in the car." I didn't move and at that moment the bear started coming towards us. "Dana! Get in the car!" I ran to Jason's car and the doors were locked. "Jason!" I yelled but Mooney's door was open first and I lept in and kept my eyes on the bear. I heard Jason yell, "Dana, you have to get in or no one else can!" I realized that I had stayed in the driver's seat and moved over. I don't know how Robbie got in so fast behind me and climbed to the back. Carren was in a moment later on my lap and we were laughing and clinging hands. I had not been too frightened until I saw Mooney and Jason get nervous. but we were all in cars.

That was when Mooney realized that Jason had his keys and so we were stuck for the time being with two packs outside of the car and the door wouldn't shut.

Umm...

Jason called someone's phone and we were trying to come up with a plan. There were way too many plans going around when we realized that we no longer knew where the bear was. Jason thought he saw it by the fire. Then Carren and I screamed because it walked on our side of the car within four feet. Jason turned his car and and began to flash his lights. The bear backed up and began nodding its head and looked like it wanted to run at us. Jason revved his engine. The bear moved forwards and then back and then we all started the car horns at once. It ran off into the woods. We grabbed the packs as soon as we could. Mooney was quite brave in getting out the car at all in order to put out the last of the fire and get the backpacks. We were going back to State College.

We were about twenty feet down the road when this bear appeared again. It ran along side us and then out in front of Jason's car. It was big and lumbering. Mooney (a hunter) guessed 350lbs. It kept up at 20 miles an hour before disappearing again. We were flying now.

Jason took his time coming down the mountain after us. We stopped on 322 without a sound of cars in any direction. It was strange to see the busiest stretch of road in State College so empty. I got out of the car and laid in the middle of the road laughing. It seemed safer than anything else from the past hour had been and I was so relieved that everyone was safe and laughing at the ridiculousness of how we had all behaved in our fear. Jason caught up and called Mooney. "What is Dana doing?!" "Umm... I think she is letting out some jitters."

Seidle was still up when we got back to the Duplex. Mooney lept into his arms and started telling him how we had all almost died. Then he backed up and attempted to tell the story in a way that emphasized his manliness and defense of the helpless. Jason made it a comedy where he attacked the bear with a hatchet and Carren knocked it out with her maglight. Robbie just thought people were funny and wasn't scared at all. I was alternately the hero for seeing the bear in the first place or the brunt of much teasing because of how fast I got in that car. It took us til 2:30 to fall asleep in the backyard of the State College neighborhood. We were still laughing until suddenly we weren't and everyone was asleep.

State College

2010-06-01T15:25:00.000-04:00

My life this summer is a strange one. I'm used to running off to various, crazy activities over the summer. I'm used to living somewhere completely new and strange to me. But this summer, I am returning to a place that is very familiar and beloved: State College. For those who might not know, this town is where I live during the school year. It is the home of Penn State University.

What am I doing here? Not school exactly. I will be living and working up here for a variety of reasons: mostly I just love this town. I forget how much sometimes during the school year because there is just so little space and time to enjoy it but I've always heard that summers up here are a well kept secret. The locals like the break from us, or so I understand.

Some definite perks:

1) The green and the rain and the sun. All in perfect proportions (finally!).
2) Mountains and hiking.
3) Websters in easy access.
4) Living in an apartment with an awesome roomie (Jillian)
5) More writing and reading than I've done in months and months and months.
6) Sleeping without duty nights.
7) A job! I'm waitressing at the Nittany Lion Inn.
8) An internship! I'm writing success stories for the Penn State Cooperative Extension (a community development/urban planning/agriculture project group)
9) Oakwood Presbyterian Church, where I'm becoming a member in a week!
10) The Duplex continually offering hospitality, food, and frivolity.
11) Friends hiding around every corner, even in the library.
12) Profs who still want to talk to you and help you work on projects.
13) Writing buddies (hurrah for Jesse and Becca!)

I'm very much looking forward to living this life in the coming months. India is also coming very soon (July 27th-August 17th).

What is happening with you this summer? Can I write you a letter?

A Long While: Reflections Upon Life As An RA

2010-05-21T10:07:00.001-04:00

Junior year is completed. The seniors have graduated and I've technically moved into their place. Who knew such a thing were even possible? In the past year, I've decided to get a minor, to graduate "on time", to take more writing classes than ever before, look at going abroad after graduation, and travel to NYC alone. That last one is probably my most intense experience and one I'm, oddly, most proud of.

The year ended with a hard run. I wasn't sure the five papers would finish themselves but they did. I wasn't sure I would get home but I did. I wasn't sure I'd get a job for the summer and I... well. Still waiting on that one, but I'm looking forward to saying "I did." Ending things has never been easy for me. Ending my time as an RA was hard and strange. I'll miss the odd way that it gave structure to my life and direction for my work. I'll miss having a measure of how I'm doing, even when I see myself missing that measure everyday. I'll miss my team of RAs, even while I didn't know them half as well as I should have liked. I'll miss being challenged all the time to do things that scared me (like address throwing up people or talking to police or not knowing what the smell of pot is but still trying to call it in or...). I've been really grateful to have had that job though. Lots of learning took place and growing.

-Learning how to work under leadership that is very unlike yours.
-Getting the facts straight.
-Not getting personally angry with violations but calmly addressing them
-Receiving compassion again and again for jobs not well done. It's hard to take that!
-Being honest about my well-being with my supervisors.
-The need for teams of people working together, eating together, playing together.
-That where your room is located influences how you interact with people.
-People like to read things while going to the bathroom and get angry if you don't provide Stall Stories on time!
-Putting up bulletin boards that (get this) aren't ugly!
-Tea brings people together. So does stargazing and parties for Bilbo Baggins.
-It is okay to be a friend to your residents. It doesn't have to be awkward (this was a lesson I still needed to practice more)
-Housing staff are the best people you will ever meet. They are kind, loving, and have a servants heart I just had no idea how to respond to.
-Forgetting you are on duty is a bad idea. Keeping a calendar is a great one.
-Be friends with people with kitchens (ie your coordinator).
-Resting is important but keeping the door open is necessary at all times/be ready to be interrupted.
-Not being idealistic, but realistic. Not being fatalistic, but hopeful.
-To quote a wise person who quoted another wise person: "Life isn't a dartboard. It is a soccer net. God is really pleased with you hitting the soccer net anywhere you can. Not the impossible dartboard."

I'm sure that list could be longer. Two years is a long time.

And while it can be interpreted many ways, I am also really excited that so many of my girls wanted to be RAs. I can hardly count that all up to me (it pays so well!), but the fact remains that I had four girls apply for jobs, and one of them was placed in Atherton across the street!

So farewell 323 Simmons! Farewell Simmons Dining Hall! Farewell echoey hallways! Farewell amazing crew that cleans our bathroom messes! Farewell Supergroup meeting on Wednesday night! Farewell the sound of the Mifflin streak! Farewell noise requirements! Farewell GYSTing! Farewell the best team of people ever and the best coordinator ever!

Hello Patty's Place.

Dancing

2010-04-28T10:50:00.000-04:00

I told a friend yesterday that there was one thing in my life that could almost be given the distinction of keeping me sane this semester. It has been a long, complicated few months. The winter was very cold and icey and grey. The work was challenging. There was business and disconnection on all sides. There were more changes and travels than I have yet processed.

Ballroom dancing.

Kines 17 is the last of my needed gym credits. I've been wanting to take it since freshman year but it took being an honors kid to jump ahead of the line and get registered. I've swing danced before. There were those awkward attempts at learning waltz, foxtrot, and tango back in the ninth grade day for "The Waltz" at the Hershey Lodge. I even remembering Dr. Kearns attempting to teach me tango and dragged me across the floor, me stepping on his dress shoes every step of the way, when all we wanted was some swing music. I've finally learned some of those other songs and figured out how to move my feet to the music.

Jessi Morris and I were discussing this class yesterday. It is probably one of the greatest classes I've ever taken. Dancing is grand. It is the only way I've found that can take music which is completely invisible and wordless and give it a visible form. Any still art cannot accomplish it because it does not move and it lasts beyond a few moments. Dancing is just as fleeting as music, just as constrained to time, but embodies it and makes us appreciate it more. Sharing that with another person and the two of you having to give form to something like that is rather inexplicable and joyous.

I get to forget things while in ballroom. My life is far too filled with thinking and sitting activities that I forget how important and fun and necessary it is to move! I've never been able to enjoy this in running. Frisbee a bit more. Kayaking was great. But ballroom has this purpose of participating in music that one if both engaged in the mind and the body. One must listen to the music and then replicate it in the organized way that we've been taught: creative in the freedom of tried and tested structure.

Personalities and quirks and faults come very much to the surface when you have to dance with another person. While life seems to not exist when I focus on getting the steps right, other parts of myself that I don't like very much come out rather quickly and insist on being dealt with. It isn't about making you look good, it is about working together to get around the floor and enjoy it. Demanding that your partner be good so enhance your enjoyment of dancing is cruel.

Oh, and following is a good idea.

In the "Waltz" days of homeschooling, I began to see this and the fact that I am terrible at following has come back to haunt me. I can hide this pretty well when I know the steps. I can make it look great and make the guy look pretty good too but really I'm "back leading" and make us mess up eventually. I look down on someone who I consider to be a "bad lead" even when the truth is that they just aren't quite at the place to realize that I've wrenched the leading out of their hands and they don't have the confidence to wrench it back again. "I'm just a good follow for a good lead". That's ridiculous. Our instructor Jolene called me out on this when she used me for a demonstration. Apparently I both tried to lead Jolene and back lead, which meant I didn't trust her enough to wait for her movements but instead went on with my own. Boo! Tango is the clearest example of this where I did better when I learned the guy's part than in following.

I'm beginning to wonder if there is a direct correlation between how I dance and how I work with God. I'm pretty sure there is.

Poetry Month (Neglected)

2010-04-20T22:23:00.000-04:00

It is April. It is Poetry Month. Last year at this time, I declared that I would post a poem every day for the next poetry month. It didn't happen. I didn't forget the month but I certainly forgot the resolution. I offer this poem as an introduction to the Festival of Faith and Writing that I attended last week. I also offer this as an introduction to my reconsideration of prayer: or rather, reconsidering my attitude and practice of it which is nothing like I have begun to realize it should be. Scott Cairns, the poet here, was a keynote speaker at the festival. He also gave a reading of some of his work, of which this was one that I have not gotten out of my head since.

Possible Answers to Prayer
By Scott Cairns

Your petitions—though they continue to bear
just the one signature—have been duly recorded.
Your anxieties—despite their constant,

relatively narrow scope and inadvertent
entertainment value—nonetheless serve
to bring your person vividly to mind.

Your repentance—all but obscured beneath
a burgeoning, yellow fog of frankly more
conspicuous resentment—is sufficient.

Your intermittent concern for the sick,
the suffering, the needy poor is sometimes
recognizable to me, if not to them.

Your angers, your zeal, your lipsmackingly
righteous indignation toward the many
whose habits and sympathies offend you—

these must burn away before you’ll apprehend
how near I am, with what fervor I adore
precisely these, the several who rouse your passions.

Part I: Politics and Penn State

2010-04-09T23:41:00.000-04:00

This will be a follow up blog to one I posted about a week and a half ago regarding some Penn State politics and the election for the student government president. I realized as I considered that post that there were really two posts going on and so for now, I'm splitting them up into two parts. This first one will revisit PSU. The second will look at Kingdom Theology and thoughts on Christ and Culture discussions, hopefully asking more questions than making statements.

First, I wish to state that ranting was not the best way to approach the topic. I appreciate David Adewumi's (the receipiant of my criticisms) response to the blog and his willingness to talk about it further. I hope my use of the blog will be more thought through in the future.

That being said, I would be interested in hearing responses to thoughts on Christianity and politics. For those of you who may have missed it, last week was a pretty well publicized election for the Penn State positions. Christians took particular note this year because one candidate (Adewumi) was outspokenly Christian and used it as a way to campaign for votes. Christian football players endorsed him in the collegian. He was at Navigators and was introduced by our club president as a "man of God" and then presented as the candidate to vote for. There was sudden interest from Christians in an election that had held no interest before. A brother was running and so it seemed as if there was a felt need to put him in that position. The contradiction? His opponent, Christian Raggland is also a believer. David noted this in his comment on my blog and it was something I had just learned when I wrote it the first time. However, my objection was not to Christianity playing a part in shaping each candidates ideas and beliefs. But I am sincerely questioning whether using identification with a particular faith group to elicit those votes. It seems to be based then less on qualifications (of which I am not questioning) and more on personal appeal. I also put forth the idea that perhaps this was a poor way to express ourselves to those who (at times) have legitimate criticisms of Christians and their behavior. This question has implications in a larger realm than simply Penn State. Is it permissible for a candidate to ever use personal faith to get votes? (This is a different question from letting faith influence ethics and policies so perhaps that one can be saved for another time).

Editing

2010-04-04T23:57:00.000-04:00

Before revisiting my last post, here is something to consider:

I love editing and revising. It is the hardest part to get to in the writing process but has always been the most exciting and rewarding for me. When I think about "writing", those moments are what the happiest meaning is comprised of.

See this news story to find out what it is about:

http://www.hankstuever.com/blog/?p=1541

Encounter 2010: The List

2010-03-27T14:35:00.000-04:00

At the International Arts Movement Encounter Conference in 2010, I encountered:
(The order of this list is random and does not reflect the ranking of those items!)

New York pizza
...and other classy food. The lay of a land often shapes itself around the food we eat in that place. While New York is so sprawling and finding a characteristic food is impossible, there were certain foods that were so wrapped up in my first impressions of the city that I felt they were worth mentioning. There was my first NYC Starbucks in Astor Place, the safe haven for my frazzled and shaking self to rest and recoup from my first metro ride and my first solo walk through some city blocks (I ordered a caramel frappacino); $1 pizza with Cameron, Courtney, and Forest near Grand Cooper Union (we discussed that there was some beauty in making pizza so fast and well that you could price it like that) in the back corner with the junior high kids with words on their shirts in glittery letters I couldn't read; the other pizza at the small store the first night on the way to Alphabet Lounge; Magnolia Cupcakes, the surprise Cameron and Courtney wouldn't tell me about until half way up the street in Greenwich we smelled heaven on the breeze; peanut butter sandwiches from Allie's house on my morning metro rides; the goat cheese on my sandwich at the coffee house where we went so often that the owner gave us a free latte; the chocolate cheesecake and mint tea around the corner from the IAM space when our feet were so tired.

Winthrop Artists
The first people I laid eyes on when I dragged myself and my suitcase into Grand Cooper Union were two curly headed chaps who looked about my age. When I registered behind them, I wondered if perhaps they were part of an answered prayer I prayed in the smelly Chinatown bus: I needed friends for the next few days. And they were. Cameron and Stephen came over not a minute later and sat down beside me on the only couch in that lobby area and introductions were made. In a few moments, Calli and Courtney came up and I had been offered their company for the duration of the conference. I took them up on it, following Cameron and Courtney around for pretty much all of it. They were from Winthrop College in Rock Hill, SC, each having lived in NYC before or visited the conference itself. Photography, non profit arts teacher and administrator for youth, and illustrator. Students and a graduate. They thought differently than me and I learned from the way they doodled their notes and expressed their thoughts. The first hours we spent together were in a coffee house, sharing stories and college experience, where our theology leans, our love of the arts and our craft, and reading aloud passages from "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek" and "The Writing Life".

The Metro
This was the scariest, most challenging, and, therefore, my proudest aspect of the trip. It is strange even now how all my fears about this stand out as part of the things I learned from the trip as bearing the red, "most significant" badge somewhere in my mind. I encountered the unique mosaics that each station has along the walls; my favorite was wandering through a larger station where the mosaics depicted tree roots coming into the ground and the station and finding a way to live there. I encountered performers, one really good violinist, and an Italian band that people started dancing to. I encountered the homeless; my final day a man got on the metro and began to yell at all of us for taking up space in his "home" which turned into a folk tale about his wife who beats him and a way for him to ask us for money (definitely was ready to freak out during that one). I encountered the fun of traveling in a group; the most fun I had was when I read aloud the poetry winner for the Encounter (quietly) in a crowded subway to Courtney, and then when the PBU folks were there and we traveled for a bit. I encountered New York at night through my trips alone back to Allie's apartment. I encountered how scared I was of many things and the ability to fix my mistakes when I went the wrong way. I also encountered my own racism and this is the part that I am most ashamed to admit; there is no way to avoid that I considered myself "safer" the more "white people" were on there with me.

Fantasy Fiction
Yes, I revisited my beloved genre through Jeffrey Overstreet's "Auralia's Colors". I read it the last morning on the metro and on the bus ride to Philadelphia. It is not a genre (when well written) to be outgrown. I have missed it.

Wandering
I did not stay in one place very long. I did not even get to go into any museums or very many tourist spots. But we wandered, taking the metro from one city into another (it seemed) and wandering the streets and finding interesting things to notice and remark upon. It was good for me to wander. My thoughts were wandering just as my feet were, trying to learn a city and a new way of thinking about art and faith at the same time. Again, I followed Courtney and Cameron in this and we went many places that had no remarkable name or appearance (mostly because there were too many things to notice) , suddenly rounding a corner, and finding something very worth exploring. We wandered the floors of the library this way (Hannah and Mom, do you remember doing this so long ago?), found the Guttenburg Bible and tried to read its print. I wanted to get caught sliding down bannisters but didn't have the courage to do it. We also wandered to the IAM space and helped an artist carry his installation up the stairs. We wandered purposefully through Grand Central so I could see it (it was rather a flabbergasting sight). Cameron made us wander at a rapid pace through Greenwhich in the dark for a very long ways so he could find a photography gallery. I wandered with the group from PBU and the ever dear Tim Hurd through a rather different, older, shorter part of NYC down towards the bay and wandered on the Highline, an old raised railway that has been turned into a boardwalk of sorts. Some stress and worry disappeared in those streets, easing out my tired feet, my head heavy with walking and sleep each night.

The Sky
The sky in NYC is hidden and focused up and thin above the tall buildings. It is hardly noticable, as if the city carries its own sun that runs through the streets and allies at certain times, turning dull electric orange with its fatigue. It was hard to notice the sky. Cameron noted when we had been blown about in dust and trash on a late night walk to the metro, that a city like this almost created its own weather patterns and ecosystems. It was its own living order and the sky and wind reflected that. There were no stars at night. There was never much reason to look up and the crowded sky scrapers held each peripheral vision.

Dreaming, Visioning
I'm not sure that "visioning" is a verb that is actually to be used but it is one of my favorites anyway. I was definitely in the company of dreamers during those few days. Some of those dreams I'm hoping to talk about more on this blog. I was able to talk to some of my Nav staffers this morning and they asked about my break and realized how little I've been able to see how all of what I was learning could apply to Penn State. I rather miss having the people around me looking ahead 10 years and asking, "How then shall we live and make art?" What is success? What is making art with love? How shall we tell stories? It was a visionary group of people and it began to rub off in those hours of talking and thinking we did together. It was also how I love to spend time, trying to see ahead, trying to plan and dream up crazy plans that could change the way everything works. There is something very exciting and comforting simultaneously to write and think about these things in a group of people.

... more to come!

Reading

2010-03-24T22:49:00.000-04:00

Say You're One of Them by Uwem Akpan A hard book that made me wish I could close my eyes and stop the images I was reading. Powerful doesn't cut it. Devastating might work. (Please ignore the Oprah Stamp of Approval)
Auralia's Colors by Jeffrey Overstreet It can never hurt to read some good fantasy. I've heard the sequel is even better!
The Collected Poems of Wendell Berry, Lovely in all respects and may be one of the best things that has happened in my life in the past two months.
Shadow Spinner by Susan Fletcher An old Sonlight Classic! Still just as good as I remembered.

Highly Recommended: The Readers List of the IAM Reader's Guild
http://www.internationalartsmovement.org/readers-guild

What are you reading? Any recommendations or books to stay away from?

Thoughts on "Roadblocks": A Panel Event

2010-03-24T22:33:00.001-04:00

This past Monday, the work of several months culminated in an event for the Schreyer Honors College: "Roadblocks to Conversation: A Panel Discussion on Faith and Student Life." I've been helping brainstorm and vision out this event since January, working with another friend and Steve Lutz, a campus minister with the Coalition for Christian Outreach here at Penn State. (Just to jog your memories, CCO is the group that was responsible for the project/community I lived in last summer in Ocean City). Together, we created a format, a topic, a vision, and gained the approval of the Honors Community to host it in the area that I live and work as an RA. I've been excited about this since we started. There is starting to be a shift in the way ministry is done here, focusing more on location and cultural groups rather than on the isolated ministries drawing people in. This also involves other ministries working together. The panel was to accomplish both of these things; drawing on the residents of Atherton and Simmons and designed/organized by folks from Navs, Cru, CCO, and the Honors College. The Dean himself acted as our moderator, being as he is fluent in these kinds of discussions from his academic role and his position as an Episcopal priest.

My job the night of was to be on the panel itself. We were looking at the role of faith in student life. Define that last term as you will. There were five of us: Andy (atheist), Katie (Catholic), Mattie (Jewish), myself (Protestant), and Munjireen (Muslim). We had met the Thursday before to decide on some opening questions. We didn't beat around the bush:

Why do you believe what you believe?
How does your faith/worldview impact your approach to schoolwork, jobs, life plans, etc?
If you could change a stereotype of your background, what would it be?

As much as I've thought and wrestled with these questions throughout my life, I found them incredibly difficult to craft into an answer that I could give out in two minutes in front of a group of my peers. That irked me a great deal but was excellent practice. Saturday I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to say the first one. My response was to want to give them a list of books to read to get my answer. That wasn't enough. Here was I, proud and haughty WVA alumn, and I really couldn't come up with anything worth saying! Lesson: never assume you know why you believe anything until you've actually practiced saying it. Outloud. To people who will most likely think you are crazy and/or dumb for saying so.

But the night was a success, my panic not withstanding. There were soft pretzels to consume, good company to talk with, great answers from the panelists and even better questions from the audience. There were about 35 folks there. I'd put about half of them as Christian, another portion as skeptics, another portion as atheists, another (small) portion as community leaders (like Dean Brady, Elizabeth Estell, Steve Lutz, etc). They were willing to discuss respectfully, passionately about everything that came up. We were faced with questions like, "Do you think it is ever okay to reevaluate a religion?" (I said, yes, because I'm a protestant and a big fan of the reformation), "What if you're wrong and you die" (yes, that was from another wva alum in attendance), "What happens if a person is not pursuing their calling", "How does science fit into all of this?" "Have the Israeli/Palestinian conflicts influenced your life as a student?" "How about the Iraq war?" "Can there be a just society as long as religion still functions?" I was impressed. There is an unfortunate tendency for such questions to never be asked. Who knew that there would be so many living on the floors around me who want to have these conversations across religious and ethnic lines, and really want to hear the answers? It was crazy and amazing and I could hardly sleep afterwards. Folks stayed for 45 minutes after everything was officially over, discussing the differences in Catholic and Protestant thought, what is the after life, why would a God design the world so that everyone is required to worship him, if there is such a thing a free will, and where to find more of these conversations that everyone had been wanting to have.

Above and beyond what we could ask or imagine? Yes.

It was so incredibly humbling to be up there and talking about my faith like that. It was exciting and joyous too. This is my heart's love and it is very hard to find when the right time to talk about such things freely is. In a place like this, all is allowed to be discussed. There are not the constraints of the authority figures in the classroom to prevent this, even subconscious fear of saying something wrong or offensive. We didn't even get to touch on why such a fear exists for all of us! But I have also been reminded in the reflection process, as if with a fading but potent echo, of something that Steve Lutz reminded us of as we sat around a table beside the tea counter in Redifer commons: are we out to have conversations? Or are these conversations out to preach the gospel and present Christ to the world? Do we want to have exchanges or do we want them to awaken to the truth that is the salvation of the world? No, we are out there talking and engaging because we are convinced with every ounce of our being that God has opened our eyes and made us new and that He has made the world good and that we need saving. I want that. It comes over pretzels and around panels and in the back corners of coffee houses and over dinners and late nights of Apples to Apples and movie discussions and homework and this shared life we have. We have been told: "Preach the Gospel; if necessary, use words." There is merit to that but not full truth. We must use our mouths. We must speak. We must listen and know those that we are being taught how to love. I have to learn how to do this in a more winsome and effective way, not letting my own ignorance and foolishness get in the way of Christ being seen. But words will be used.

I'm really looking forward to having these threads start spreading out and seeing where they lead. I'm excited for more folks to show up at Websters on a Thursday night to have more conversations and hear the truth even as I hear their thoughts. I'm looking forward to more panels and official events and seeing how God keeps moving in this wacky, wonderful world of Penn State.

PS. If you want to hear another take on this, Steve Lutz posted about it on his blog. He is discussing some of these changing ministry norms and talks about the panel in the last paragraph. http://stevelutz.wordpress.com/2010/03/24/college-ministry-breaking-down-the-glass-wall/

Philadelphia Walk

2010-03-09T13:24:00.002-05:00

Written Yesterday Evening

I just returned from my walk with Lindsey. We wandered for three hours over the city, packing a dinner and getting tea at Coffee Bean on the same street as Independence Hall. I saw the liberty bell and toasted it with my peppermint tea. The day tasted like melting snow, wet earth, the rivers on either side of the city, trees brushing the air still-ly, and peppermint. We brought girl scout thin mints with us and ate them by the river, near the Irish statue, in the last bit of golden sun before it truly turned into sunset. There were lots of couples walking today, lots of runnings, a group doing a faux band photo shoot with a friend, dogs, and one couple playing loud music and slowly making out while sitting on a short cement barrier. Very awkward. The loveliest, most charming, walk came through the old parts of the city. All the red brick homes, the cobble stone streets, and the trees that lean across the roads to link fingers. There are old churches and opened iron gates to let us into graveyards and old history. There are small paths between buildings, one way paths between the rows of houses that are quaint and clearly loved. There was a park full of children and their parents, just a small jungle gym with some trees and benches in the middle of the houses. No cars seemed to exist back in there. The kids were running and screaming in their brightly colored coats, hats, and stockings. Even the winter coats seemed to hint at spring. I was nearly run over by a young lad in a blue sweater and flying hair, racing a pink baby doll stroller along the cobble stones.

The buildings in Philly are short enough for the sun to fall between and find its way along the streets. It is good for the soul on these days to see such sun and walk in it.

Breaking for Spring

2010-03-09T00:20:00.000-05:00

This year looks a tad different from past years. Instead of heading off (usually south) for Navigators Spring Break, the right pieces fell into place for me to attend an arts conference in New York City. And so I went. Last Thursday, I abandoned the last two days of classes before break, rode a shady white van to New York, and made my way around the city for the IAM Encounter Conference. Now, I am hanging out in the lovely city of Philadelphia with Lindsey Smyth (and company), seeing a CCO metro Philly area director at work and loving every minute of it. I wish I could explain more of how exciting, challenging, and restful these days have been. I'm more and more sure that I am not a city girl, but it takes spending time in the city (and even loving that time) to see such a thing. I'll be glad when I take the train to Harrisburg and then to Hershey and our house on a hill where the night times are so quiet that they hang heavy outside our windows, almost louder than any city noise. (Though I would say that cities are not half as loud at night as State College on a weekend. Epic Fail SC, epic fail).

To come: my list of "encounters", Makoto Fujimura and a meditation on Love and Art, my Philadelphia afternoon walk, poetry and craft, Cities and Dana Ray, and more.

Lent Fail

2010-02-26T01:01:00.002-05:00

Confession:

I woke up groggily today. I was not ready to face the day. So I do as I normally do: hit the power button to the laptop, wait for the bright light to hit my eyes, perk me up a bit, and deal with any panic emails sent in the night. I typed in my address and password and hit enter. It was halfway through the page change that I realized that I had just been welcomed back to facebook. Epic fail. In my fatigue, my fingers had gone by habit to check facebook.

These days are rather harder than I thought. But then again, what else do you expect in a fast, especially when you've never quite successfully pulled a real one off?

Jubilee

2010-02-23T01:15:00.001-05:00

Another year of the Jubilee conference has come and gone. I returned from Pittsburgh on Sunday, completely exhausted. What surprises me right now is that I do actually feel rested though the weekend itself was anything but restful. In fact, I was overwhelmed there as I had never been overwhelmed before. There was so much to learn and take in; so many old friends to catch up with; so many fantastic sessions; so many chances for conversation (and so many of those chances lost); so much unexpected fun and frustration. I was just stressed by how completely unpredictable one moment could be from the next. In many ways, it was the best Jubilee I have been to yet. It is equally true that it was definitely the hardest. I had much on my mind and heart going into this weekend. There were things at school that I was mulling over, from the ministry that is slowly finding its feet and focus in my building (from CCO partnerships) to my vague and frustrating thesis mulling and my current disconnect (due to time constraints) at Navigators. I was also trying to be with my dear ones from Ocean City Beach Project and others I have not seen in a very long time (like the fabulous Jen Davidson and run ins with Stephen Rayner). All in all, it was a rewarding, if exhausting time.

I think the highlight for me was hearing Makoto Fujimura speak on John 11-12 Sunday morning. I had been waiting eagerly to hear him speak and he was as eloquent as I imagined he would be after reading Refractions. He talked about Christ's compassion in weeping with Mary and Martha at Lazarus's tomb. He did not come with a "magic wand" seeking to solve the problem of death in one moment. Fixing the problem was not enough. Instead, he stood and wept with them. He mourned. Christ was anything but utilitarian. And in response to this gift of weeping, in response to him giving life, Mary (and Martha in a sense) offered the extravagance of perfume to annoint him for his death. Again, the further thing from being "useful", but a beautiful obedience and worship. I was reminded by these words and those of the other writers I listened to, the power of art, of writing, to worship and to weep with one another; that writing is a way of giving shape and body to grief and to worship in one motion; that to do so requires attention and compassion, neither of which is humanly achievable without Divine Grace. Ack... I sincerely wish I could express this as Mako did! This was an encouragement I desperately needed in the months when my writing has painfully stalled, and even blog writing is a chore that I find great reasons to avoid rather than complete.

Through this, I also accidentally came upon the realization that I was asking all the wrong questions concerning my thesis topic. I'm most definitely leaning towards doing some sort of creative writing project, giving myself a chance to creatively respond toward these ideas through fiction, poetry, and spiritual memoir, rather than trying to construct an analysis of community and identity. I am not at a place where I have enough experience to discuss this subject with any authority and so little has it been explored... I'm not even sure I know what I thought I was asking anymore.

Jubilee itself seemed to be a matter of gracious extravagance for me this year. The moments of joyful madness and play gave strength to limbs and heart, even as I wandered discouraged through so many of the weekend events. There was swing dancing on Saturday night, running into old aquaintances (like Stephen Rayner!) and dancing like mad (and pretty well, if I do say so) with some of the staff; there were two hours spent over chai tea with a dear friend rather than going to a session; there was apples to apples late in the night in which I won Rusty's green card every time; there was sprinting through open spaces to get hugs; there was buying the book of Wendell Berry poetry and mulling over it sleepily during the drive back.

Breaking by Wendell Berry
Did I believe I had a clear mind?
It was like the water of a river
flowing shallow over the ice. And now
that the rising water has broken
the ice, I see that what I thought
was the light is part of the dark.

So all in all, it was a lovely time. It was hard to focus, to stay where I happened to be with both heart and body, and to focus on the people around me. It was scattered, but it eventually gathered and ended. My thoughts turn towards the Encounter Conference in two weeks and I am excited by the thought of going to New York City for the second time (the first was in highschool).

****

Two other wonderful friends of mine also responded to the weekend. The first are the thoughts of a CCO campus minister from Penn State. He was responsible for leading three sessions and brought two students (who were brilliant and so much fun) who would describe themselves as atheists. The second is a video by my friend Kent Mast (from OCBP last summer) which is a lovely appreciation of some key thoughts in the main sessions and how it all tied together to be a very worshipful weekend.

http://stevelutz.wordpress.com/2010/02/22/initial-thoughts-reflections-on-jubilee/

http://kentonmast.wordpress.com/2010/02/22/jubilee-conference-2010/#comment-28

A Convicting Point

2010-01-25T10:32:00.001-05:00

This was a blog post that rather cut me to the core. Enjoy!

New Year ala Philadelphia Snow

2010-01-01T23:00:00.002-05:00

Not writing a blog post on January 1st seemed inappropriate. However, I was not quite sure how to begin yet another year of online composition. Previously, I've done "Year in Reviews" but found my answers this year to be a bit lacking. They shall not be shared. Take your complaints to the editor.

In its stead, as you sit around your houses, verbaling espousing new years resolutions and inwardly avoiding all nagging demands of commitment, eating the last of the Christmas goodies, reminicing about past years, and drinking your sparkling cider or other beverage of choice, you can be entertained by my Philadelphia celebration. It acted as a 24 space between the 30 and the 31st and neatly capped off the year.

This past year, Philly as seen more of me than I had imagined that it would. I have also seen more of it than I had imagined I would. The two are not exactly the same thing, though at this exact moment I am baffled as to what the difference may be. It began with excursions to outlying villages such as Fort Washington, first in May (to see Tim, Leah, Kristina, Jon, and the other Hurd family), then in August (same), and then in early November to attend the Philadelphia Biblical University's Worldview Conference (with previously stated Hurds and Miss Mundell) and then to drop in on Lindsey Smyth. Now this Lindsey character was a staffer at the Beach Project, my home this past summer. She is now the Area Director (ooooooooo, aaaaaaaaah) of the metro Philly/South Jersey regions for the CCO, abiding in the interesting region of South Philly. The November trip was the first time I had spent any recognisable time in the actual city. I rather liked it. Philly is its own world, completely unique unto itself. Most cities are like that, I have found, but Philly has quite a history and current goings on that it has a particularly strong personality. This personality resists judgement; is not particularly welcoming; is undoubtedly attractive and strong.

The thing about Philly is that while it has its own unique character, it is also rather diverse in how it plays itself out. South Philly seemed to be a really dynamic expression of this. Or perhaps I just associate it with my first hair raising trip to Lindsey's house in the dark, where I drove the wrong way down a one way street, failed to parallel park correctly, and couldn't find the right house. Arriving a second time on her door step (while the parking issue was the same), was a much more lovely experience. I was there to celebrate the Beach Project with a small reunion. I had seen most of the folks present at some time during the semester but it was lovely to be with them all again. Risa (my roommate), Lindsey, and I cooked up a Beach Project classic for dinner (egg plant parmesian) and by 6pm eight of us were gathered around the table to share what crazy things God had been up to over the past few months. Though the location was different, the sense of security, hospitality, and joy that marked the Beach Project community was very present. It has been quite the semester for us all. We gathered in the living room afterwards, full of warm eggplant (I assure that eggplant tastes better than the name implies) and laughing, crying, ranting, sympathizing in turn. I forget how much God taught me through these people, through this past summer, until I am among them again. It can be hard to remember when very few in my direct circle at school even remember that I had spent my summer in Ocean City, encountering things I didn't know I needed to encounter. I have grown in ways necessary for all that unfolded for the ministry I have been able to participate in at Penn State this semester.

The guys eventually left and the girls enjoyed a long night of talking, book recommendations, a trip to Wendys (where they were out of frosties, frenchfries, and spoons), McDonalds, personality types, and the like. In the morning, we slept in, ate pancakes from homemade batter, saw Risa off to the airport, and stopped by a local coffee house. The driving let those of us unfamiliar with the area get to enjoy the strange inconsistencies, quirks, and life of Philly without being responsible for the driving. To quote Lindsey: "Driving here is like performing in a circus without rules. I love it!" Weeeelllll... I wouldn't be able to live there, but the strange way parks crop up out of nowhere, the way the trees stand self-consciously behind small fences, the way the sky scrapers reflect the sky and look like they are full of snow, make it a place that I can somehow imagine having an affection for. This is even including my intense hatred for the roads and traffic which had me gridlocked behind City Hall for a very long time. It was the first time in my life that I think I truly experience panic (but that is another story for another time). Even with all of this, I was sorry to leave when the time came.

The 24 hours there were a reflection on the semester, the summer, the year, but one we were able to share together. We scattered to our homes to be with family and other friends but I sense that those hours were the true marking of a change in time. Weariness, fatigue, doubt, and fear mended themselves in the background. I am more than a little grateful for those folks in my life and for the freedom I have among them. While I have various "resolutions" or desires for the next year (ex. reading more Doestoevsky), I think keeping an awareness up for His community will be key. I want to be aware of it and seek it out, knowing that in those places the growing and changing happens. It comes everywhere: my dorm hall, my family (key!), at Navs, next year in Patty's Place, discipleship, the local church (Oakwood at school and wherever I may be in the summer), my writing workshops... looking for these will make this quite an exciting year.

And to quote the spiritual that Alex sang the last Sunday in 1st Pres of Ocean City (which I take to be talking about my Savior and His provision through His people):

"I've been washed up/ I've been beat up/ I've been misunderstood./ But with you I belong/ and you help me be strong./ There's a change in my life/ since you came along."

Romeo and Juliet

2009-12-27T21:28:00.003-05:00

This is a review I wrote for a play this past October. It was a fun event and a fun review to write, so I thought I'd share it.

I had planned this out for months. I first heard about the production of this play at the beginning of the semester and it went in my planner immediately. In the past few weeks I had attempted to get some of the girls from my floor to go with me... to no avail. That left me last minute calling my friend Ben to join me as I attended a freezing, two hour long production of "Romeo and Juliet". Fun? He wasn't convinced but I was ready. Armed with sandwich, caramel apple cider, and blanket, I marched through a blustery October evening to stand in a short line half an hour before the start of the show. I was enjoying the charade of sorts that I was participating in. It was almost a play in and of itself before the real production even began. I was snug and bundled, warm coat, purple scarf, and brown wool beret perched on my head for warmth. The buildings that surrounded the lawn cut off the main wind gusts, keeping it tolerable. I found a seat (though I later regretted this decision to not sit on the grass) about five rows back toward the left of the seating area. I read a book as people milled around and came from all directions. We could see our breaths and everyone was quietly talking as we found places under an autumn sunset. I heard an older man, who looked to be a penn state alumnus, comment that it was almost like waiting for a football game. "Let's start counter cheers! Montagues! Capulets! Montagues! Capulets!" Those around him chuckled appreciatively. Then came the appropriately formal and awkward "big name" theatre people ready to introduce and remind us of their part in tonight's show. They were quickly forgotten aside from their charming blunders in forgetting each other's names. We were not really interested. There was something else coming. Anticipation was building. And the show began.

Words fail to express what it means to be caught up in a story, when drama comes alive in such a way that... the only word that seems to work is "magical" and that has been falsely co-opted by Disney and brutally marketed to within an inch of its life. But take then your mind to the outdoor setting of the Alumni Family Center: the grass slope running towards a constructed stage in the corner of a garden walk and a Pennsylvania Stone Farm House. Trellises built up to the windows. Lighting that expertly crafted the outdoor lights of day and night and the indoor moods of parties and bedrooms. But more than this, there is a sky arching above your head. It is light and then fading into darkness as a physical marker of the rising action. There is the chill air, constantly keeping you tied to the living and the present, and entranced with the antics and tragedy presented to you. There are the sounds and movements of the other people, entranced with you so you hardly notice them beyond being one with them. There is a unity to this place, of time and setting, harkening back to the days before we knew how to craft the outdoors too well indoors, and had to be in it to justify the discussion of trees and sky and railing against the stars, as Romeo cries aloud and falls to his knees doing.

And this setting, this harkening back to the birth of theatre, in open amphitheatres and dramatic expressions, ritual of love and youth incarnate, married to the technology and evocative, familiar, and realistic acting and stage craft, all came from a director's vision and into my understanding. Yes, my understanding. For the first time, I understood Romeo and Juliet.

"Romeo and Juliet" has been done before, in case you were unaware. It is the most overdone piece of high school literature there is. It was overdone by the time I got to middle school. I could pick out fractured, elitist references a mile away. And I knew the plot too. My middle school self set me on the definitive course of "Hate sappiness. Reject first time love. Suicide for love is stupid." I have maintained that course. I have enjoyed the mockeries of such passion and laughed at its retellings whether in comedic balcony reconstructions of my own or in "West Side Story". But here, a different hand was at work. I read in the program that this version was ultimately about the young searching for identity and suddenly finding it in each other. The subtle undercurrent, this primary tension and subtext, ran through the production but did not seem to be such a difference until the moment when Mercutio died in the meaningless battle in the street. Suddenly, the romantic comedy turned into tragedy and all the playfulness that had marked the balcony scene (that we've all wanted to realized in our romantic subconscious!) ran its faithful course into the intensity of banishment, separation, and death. I had been wooed and won by the lighthearted romance. I had seen them come alive under the intoxication of love, finding fullness in it. This meant that I walked open eyed, open mouthed, broken hearted into the tragedy. I was fully present in the heartbreak and completely understood their actions and choices, even to the moment when Romeo drinks the poison over the Juliet's living body.

This takes no little strength in acting, setting, and director's vision. Oh well done! I wept and shivered and quietly moaned my warnings. The audience held their breaths and yet the story concluded, as we knew it would. There was nothing we could do, but for the first time, perhaps for more than a few, it was something that we cared about. The story drew together the audience in the fear and knowledge of what would happen. Even as it grew colder, and blankets were wrapped around strangers, and we took to fidgeting to keep in connection with our toes and fingers, we were wrapped in the essence of the story and the importance of what was to happen. And it was terrible and magical.

I almost didn't believe it when the actors returned to the stage for the applause and standing ovation from the 642 audience members. Romeo and Juliet had died. I did not believe that Gilbert and Leah (the leading actors) could still exist. I almost laughed in delight at my own slight confusion. The vision was lifting and shifting, the cares I had forgotten (responsibilities back at my residence hall) returned to me, but somehow were lessened. I was laughing and running in my lateness. I could see my breath completely now and my friend ran beside me, both of us thrilled (I in raptures) by what we had just witnessed: a play.

Christmas

2009-12-25T22:08:00.001-05:00

(Otherwise known as: Sleeping Long Hours)

It is with great relief that I packed myself into a small car late in the afternoon on December 19. The snow had been coming down hard since about 1am the morning of the same day. My last night as an RA for Fall 2009 (no fears. I'm returning in the spring!) was spent in a near empty dorm hall hanging out with a few RAs and getting into "trouble". My capabilities for trouble are often uncreative, but I found a good things to do, like take the carts in the basement and racing them down the hallway ramp outside the laundry room and riding my bike in the hallways. Break mentality was setting in but I nearly didn't get out of State College. The Roads were quite bad but I had found a ride with a friend of a friend who was going anyway. I held my breath most of the way but we never went too fast or lost control. Amazing. Being home and out of the dorm was a relief even in quite the snow fall we had.

Break, Christmas, has been lovely. I have seen some dear and long neglected friends. I have visited the "Midtown Scholar" (a coffee house and scholarly bookstore in Harrisburg) with Mim and discussed the complication of lit theory with Hannah E. I have started Anna Karenina and am almost a third of the way through. I have played wii more than I have at any other time in my life and watched movies with the family. It has been a true rest. I've been grateful. It took me four nights to start feeling rested when I woke up. This is a good place to be.

And today was Christmas. We all enjoyed it with far too much sugar, gifts, movies, and hanging out. Our celebrations are always rushed with their suddenness, unpretentious, and carried out with a "pjs all day" atmosphere. For some reason, this particular holiday brings out complex emotions for me. I don't think there is another day in the year (other than my birthday which carries similar connotations) that so impresses upon me my utter selfishness. I think it is the realization that I am being lavished with gifts (appreciated) but knowing even as the paper comes off that I do not appreciate them as they deserve, nor do they satisfy. Satisfy? I don't know if I even attach that profound of a desire to objects. Even the ability to delight in the objects before me is diffused by an overwhelming sense of the temporary of everything that goes into these observations. Where does it come from?

Me. This selfish, screwed up human being who is caught in focusing on a world that extends as far as her arms can reach and her eyes can see. Being short sighted, I can see about half a foot without glasses, but not terribly far or clearly with. Once again, I've been caught with my mind and heart meditating on myself and my desires and my thoughts and opinions on a day where I am most specifically urged to meditate on the Incarnation of Christ, and the Grace that came through that. Confession: I almost resent this command. To dwell on it would mean that I would be forced into changing the way I view the world. I would be caught in irresistible knowledge of my helplessness; shown a Person, a Word, a Maker, that makes His own new; and grateful. Sure. I know this. I also know that I did not look at that squarely this morning. I also know that to do so would be to live in freedom already born, died, and even currently living on my behalf [the verb tense shift was deliberate]. Sounds about as appealing as a salad compared to the ridiculous stuffing and apple pie I had tonight. I also know that the option of eating the salad would have made me awake, coherent, and lithe rather than the rather weighty effects of Mom's pie. It seems I've missed and neglected the entire point of the day if that is how I see the whole thing right now. No wonder I've been having some writers block... there isn't really a place for me to even write if I don't have the Incarnation, the Word of God made flesh and "pitching his tent" among us. It is the bread and wine, the life, of my very existence. It is death and I am caught in a failure to follow God's Law ("whoever has my commands and keeps them, he it is who loves me..." john 14:21).

Two hours left in the day. There is some time to reconsider my missed Advent and Christmas day.

(This song might as well be a Christmas hymn... kind of. It is associated, for some reason, for me with O Come, O Come Emmanuel, almost as an answer made possible by Christmas, by God coming in the flesh.)

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul.

When I was sinking down, sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down beneath God’s righteous frown,
Christ laid aside His crown for my soul, for my soul,
Christ laid aside His crown for my soul.

To God and to the Lamb, I will sing, I will sing;
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing.
To God and to the Lamb Who is the great “I Am”;
While millions join the theme, I will sing, I will sing;
While millions join the theme, I will sing.

And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on;
And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on.
And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing and joyful be;
And through eternity, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on;
And through eternity, I’ll sing on

Thanksgiving

2009-12-18T23:17:00.005-05:00

This is a summary of Thanksgiving at the Tingle House:

The trip to Georgia was wonderful. I enjoyed the time with family and the time I was also able to spend with two Worldivew friends. Greer met us outside of Charlotte and drove with us for over an hour while we caught up. I drove to see Leah at her house after her classes were done and spent the night (which saw us staying up till all hours with funfetti cookies and many, many stories from the summers and the fall). The differences between Georgia and home were surprisingly stark for me this trip. There are very real, tangible differences between the life I live in Pennsylvania and the way life is lived in Athens, Georgia. It starts with the geography, the land. Here, the trees are branchy and full, and not terribly tall. They hold fast and go with the heavy winds we sometimes get especially in the winter months. The earth is brown. The summers are lush green, the falls even brighter. In Georgia, the trees are tall and straight with their limbs stretching straight in either direction. Leah noticed this: they do not move in the wind. The outer limbs may rustle but they do not shake and toss and turn like water surfaces as our short maple and ash so violently do. And the air feels and smells rather differently. It was interesting to note this strange comparison... was it for the first time and I just recognized my awareness of it?

Fire Alarms

2009-12-13T00:04:00.002-05:00

This happened the other night. I have other posts that will go up soon about the past month and a half, but this entertaining (?) vignette will have to do. Welcome to Penn State Res Life, Simmons Hall.

It was the moment between dreaming and waking that I cannot remember and yet I still feel was timeless. It happened in less than an instant. Time slowing down would not alter the abrupt jerk it was to move from a dream to being awake... to being awake and being frightened. I cannot remember it. Memory begins when I was stumbling around the room in the dark, telling myself again and again to calm down and to do the things you know you should do when the alarm goes off. I couldn't. Memory beings with me frantically failing at leaving my room. I do not know how long that had been. Even if it had only been a second, just a frozen second, it felt slowed out, sluggish. It was the physical comparison between the jolt from dream into a dark nightmare of sound and fury. Fire alarms are painful. I hit the light switch and looked at the clock. 4:30. The inexplicable hour marks confirmed the terror for some reason. Cold. It must be cold outside. I grabbed a coat then took it off and put on a sweatshirt and then the coat. I put on a hat and took it off. I found my slip on shoes and thought about socks but couldn't seem to figure out where I kept them (perhaps I was still dreaming). I left the room, locked it. I unlocked it, reentered and grabbed my cell phone. I left and locked it. I left for a final time. The sound was inside my head it seemed. Everything was screaming. The walls were, the ground was, I was. Not really. It was just the alarms, flashing slowly and brightly. Raaeeeuuunn. Raaeeeeun. Raaaeeeun. Again and again and again. Three in a row. Small pause. Three in a row. Small pause. It was a sound that vibrated our bodies and we were desperate to escape, fire or no fire. It was a good explanation for how disoriented I was in my room and the shock of going from sleep into 100% adrenalen. A small quiver of relief at seeing all my girls exit their rooms burst in me, most of the girls ahead of me on the way down the stairs. I found out later that some of them had forgotten shoes. I was not the only one gripped in the panic and shaking of the sound. The hallway was almost empty and we were all sleepy. I could hardly even see them in my fatigue. We rushed down the stairs and out into the cold. A crowd had gathered at the door. My hands and voice were shaking. I pushed through the waiting crowd to the door. They looked ready to go in again. "Everyone move back from the door! Please step away from the building! I don't want anyone close to this door! Please scoot back!" Mike stepped out, more disoriented than I was. And suddenly, the alarms were gone. I breathed. They breathed. We were all talking again and went back inside.

It was after I had mounted the steps with ease that I remembered that my knee had been hurting me and had begun to hurt again. It was also when I started noticing the people around me. It was like a bad sleep over party with way too many people and not enough sleep. There is a reason we all have our own rooms and do not have parties. Sleep doesn't make beautiful people. Neither do pjs nor fire alarms nor sub 20 degree weather. It was while I walked down the long hallway back to my room that the cold hit my bones and I started shivering. The adrenaline was coming down and my empty stumoch threatened to leave me dizzy and perched above the rim of a toilet, heaving my guts out my mouth. I didn't. We talked a little bit, in anger, trying to undo the fear. None of us would sleep for a while. I laid in bed and held onto a favorite book I had not thought to carry out with me. I had terrible visions of the building actually being on fire even though we were all falling asleep again in our beds. I chuckled though as my heart slowed down and the shivering was counteracted by the soft blankets and holding the book in my arms. I began to realize how I had just stepped through the situation we all think about as kids: what would I take if the house was on fire? Mom always said that there wouldn't be enough time to grab anything. I thought that was ridiculous. Fire always seemed slow enough in the movies to grab the important things. Yet here I was. I did not grab the computer or even consider it. I didn't grab a favorite book. I did not grab my school work or my journals. I grabbed clothes (that mismatched) for the cold, shoes, a phone to call my coordinator, and another item stuffed into my pocket for potential later use. I had, essentially, grabbed myself. It was my only thought (Other than "Should I wait for the floor? No, the RA handbook says to not do that. Elizabeth would be angry." In my sleepy state, the handbook seemed the best reason not to check the doors!) The time in the question when it is posed "What would you save?" isn't there when the alarm goes. Even if you answer right away, there is emotional time given to consider it. There are gut responses that always list some item as worthy of being saved. But in the moment, the physical time is gone. The emotional time has moved into the negatives, and the body is the primary thing I was desperate to see out of that building and in the cold air. There had been spasms of trying to answer that question when I found myself stumbling around the room, but they were lost in the overwhelming instinct to get out.

This was somehow amusing and I was drifting off to sleep, chuckling to myself, when I heard in another part of the building, the screaming demons begin again. "Oh no...." I groaned and it hit my room with full force again. There were yells mixed in this time, frustration. The clock read 5:30 am, exactly an hour after the first one. I had my clothes laid out in case this happened and was out the door in two seconds. The intensity was less this time. All of the floor was looking at me to explain and I couldn't give them anything. They were angry. One or two of them started to cry. I laughed. If it had gone off a second time, it meant that we had never been in any real danger from a fire. It confirmed the quick silence of the one before. The fire department would not have let us back in and would have stayed if... well, it was all going to be okay. I tried to spread this attitude as I could among my girls as they gathered at the back of the door crowd. The alarm was even shorter this time. We gathered near the bathroom doors to rant and to commiserate and offer each other explanations and strangely awake "Goodnights". The sun would be up in an hour, though most of us would not awake or out of our rooms till noon.

Later that afternoon, I asked another RA. "Do you think my coordinator will let me count this as a program?" We laughed. "Seriously though, when have I ever had all 54 students in one place at the same time? In the snow? That is serious talent."

End of the story:
The reason for the alarm was this: a student had stolen several fire extinguishers and run through the hallways, spraying them. The smoke detectors picked it up as smoke and went off. The student did it again an hour later. They were not caught. My floor is currently on a man-hunt. Any news of this perpetrator should be handled with caution as I and my floor would like to see them brought to (our) justice. :-)

Ties

2009-11-01T14:11:00.002-05:00

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Necktie#Origins

This appallingly amusing. I had no idea that the modern necktie was just that: modern. Before this it was entirely cravats. Please note the bottom two sections which involved "Objections to the Necktie." This reminds me of the continuous debates amongst the Nav crew regarding facial hair.

Faithful Education

2009-10-29T20:41:00.003-04:00

So I'm using "Taste and See" by John Piper for my devotionals, similar to how I've used Andrew Murray's "Waiting on God" and "Abide in Christ" which I've referenced on here a few times. Today, I read an short piece on Christian education. This is something that fascinates me, mostly because I can see it only from the outside as a Penn State student. However, it rings true, even for some that I've seen come through Christian elementary and highschools or even through the homeschooling world. I keep asking myself what it is that helps or hinders a student via an education clearly stacked toward raising kids into solid, faithful, Christian adults. That question is still relevant at a state school where we either box off our education from our spiritual lives (an "effective", but very shallow technique) or we have to daily wrestle to gain a Christian education, a truthful education in the midst of being lied to. In either place it takes constant supervision. But is it worse for the fish in the water to not appreciate it or the fish in pollution to know the value of water? Oho! Now there is an awkward metaphor for you!

Some excerpts and quoted texts from the devotional:

James Davison Hunter from his book "Evangelicalism: The Coming Generation"

We can see the multiple ironies of Christian higher education. On the one hand, Christian higher education historically evolved into precisely the opposite of what it was supposed to be, that is, into bastions of secularity if not anti-Christian sentiment. Contemporary Christian higher education, on the other hand, produces the unintended consequences of being counterproductive to its own objectives, that is, it produces individual Christians who are either less certain of their attachments to the traditions of their faith or altogether disaffected from them. Education, to the degree that it is not indoctrination, weakens the tenacity with which Evangelicals hold on to their worldview. In sum, the Evangelical education creates its own contaminating effects. And the more Christian higher education professionalizes and bureaucratizes (that is, the more it models itself institutionally after secular higher education), the more likely this process will become.

John Piper's thoughts:

Faith is destroyed when little academic minds and little hearts for God niggle away at magnificent and precious realities with no remorse...when there is no great love for God and His Word and no great passion to see the truth of God magnified and defended with profound credibility and authenticity...when faculty demonstrate their academic standing not in the really great and difficult task of constructive explication and justification of truth, but in the simple and adolescent task of deconstruction and cynicism.

Oof. That last part strikes home when I consider some of the professors I have sat under and am currently sitting under. Since I'm not a professor, nor am like to be one, I question this entirely as a student trying to take responsibility for my education. It becomes my task then as a student to do what I can to employ effective and faithful "constructive explication and justification of truth" in all my work. Confession: it is so much easier to do the latter. It can even be more fun to walk around feeling very proud of oneself in a cynical and deconstructive manner. Very humbling. Very challenging.

I think there are many other angles from which to develop this topic. Thoughts? Please be long winded. I'm a fan on long winded as long as it make sense.

Updates

2009-10-19T13:55:00.000-04:00

Currently listening to: a playlist I made of folkish music (Jake Armerding, Sandra McCracken, Derek Webb, various Maryn songs, and one Fellowship of the Ring)

Currently watching: the tree between me and Nittany Mountain turn bright organge and yellow

Currently reading: too much.

Currently: behind on blogging.

I haven't died, contrary to Gretchen and Jen's opinion (though they saw me this past weekend so I'd hope that they stopped worrying!). Rather, life continues at the break neck pace it adopted day 1 of school. I've been hoping that things would "slow down" enough to justify posting but it never happened. Therefore, I must post without justification. Here, I hope to give you some updates on various activities and madness and also ask for prayer in these things that are running mad in the wake of things I've been processing since Beach Project.

(Why does it take so long to process summers and major life events? I suppose that is rather like asking why gravity comes from a spinning earth. And if you can answer that question, I probably don't want to know. It is more fun to make up reasons)

Resident Assistant:
My floor has kept their minds in order this year and no violent illnesses have occurred! Compared to last year at this time (when I had called 911 three times), I find this a great improvement. I'm still learning how to do this whole RA thing though. It is hard to remember my desire to see my job as a give and take relationship like a host, offering hospitality to my 54 students. I don't know all of them well at all and never see some of them. On my wing of the L I supervise, the girls seem to be interacting more than last year which is fun. They are all in the grips of midterms, so pray that they survive and don't kill each other in the process. I'm also struggling to find spaces to interact with the other RAs in. I like them a lot but have done a poor job of befriending them as I should. It is a strong group and I see them being fantastic leaders and teaching me so much, even though most of them are new and I'm the old hand!

Navigators:
This year, I've been leading a very small Bible Study in my room with girls from the South area. Kadi and Sang, friends from the past two years, are coleading with me and doing an amazing job with it. I've learned much from their response to the trial and tribulations of slim to none attendance and juggling many responsibilities. Being forced into the book of John has been wonderful, similar to my experience leading on Exodus this summer. Many "aha!" moments have continued in that respect. Leading a study is an art that none of us are great at but trying to improve. Sometimes, it feels like a very large rock being pushed up a very large hill. Pray that doors start opening here and that the few girls we have will find connections in Navs as a whole as well. Also, I'm meeting with Barb Baldner, a Nav staffer, each Wednesday for discipleship. This then is going to be turned around when I start discipling a student this week. The one on one relationships I have had since coming to school have been the most significant learning times and being able to start this training with a freshman (and a wva alum!) is incredible.

Theological Thursdays:
So these are more laid back, but some guys started it last year and it ended up in my room. Now we meet Thursday nights at the Duplex to talk out our faith, particularly how it applies to our lives at Penn State-- which, of course, is really us talking about life. Penn State isn't too different from the "real world" in many senses, but it is helpful to talk about these things in our Penn State culture and then look at it in a bigger picture. So far we've covered things from evangelism to church worship to homosexuality and gender roles to the "christian ghetto" we make for ourselves.

School Itself:
Good. Bad. Ugly. Fantastic. Stretching. Miserable. It varies, to say the least. On the bright side, I'm in two classes that are teaching me a great deal: fiction writing and disability theory. They are nothing alike but each is acting as a catalyst for a lot of other growing in my life. The other three aren't so grand at times, particularly "critical reading" which someone misnamed because it is encouraging "mindless theory non-application". Boo. But then again, even the more disappointing classes have forced me to do some serious double study. By this, I mean that I do some outside work for each course but this time using a Christian source for it. This not so often contradicts what I am learning, but brings it to life, shows me its usefulness, and where I'm not getting the complete story. This also means that if you walk into my room, the book shelf is literally spewing its contents around the room. I'm at least part way into most of them, which means I haven't completed a read in a looooooonng time. Perhaps after the semester ends, I can catch up on some of the fun reading and exult in the semi-completion of the library books. And praying for thesis stuff to fall into place would be much appreciated. It is being very unwieldy right now and has a deadline of Nov 6 to abide by.

Home:
Gretchen and the Shining Light Folks are amazing.

Aside:
http://live.ist.psu.edu/live/Viewer/?peid=2c8c47f2cdb647fe9ebc368286813b17
(This is the link to see the film of the Romeo and Juliet production I saw last week. It was fantastic and well worth watching)

Other (Concluding) Aside:
This day is too beautiful to be inside. I'm going to bike to the library at the very least before duty tonight and firedrills.

October 10 by Wendell Berry

2009-10-10T10:00:00.002-04:00

Now constantly there is the sound,
quieter than rain,
of the leaves falling.

Under their loosening bright
gold, the sycamore limbs
bleach whiter.

Now the only flowers
are beeweed and aster, spray
of their white and lavender
over the brown leaves.

The calling of a crow sounds
loud—a landmark—now
that the life of summer falls
silent, and the nights grow.

------

Through Miriam's Travel's

2009-10-03T13:04:00.003-04:00

I have decided. I have decided by way of Miriam Eagleson sending me pictures and short emails about her trip to the North West and visiting Portland and Powell's (a book store that is five stories high and three city blocks long) and seeing mountains what I am going to do with my life after graduation. I have decided...

... that if all else fails, I will go live in Portland and work at Powell's.

A city of books. In Portland, in the valleys in sight of the great mountains, with water running through it. So amazing. I miss it even after only two hours in it two summers ago.

(At least SOMETHING has been accomplished in my hours of wasted time in Websters, the State College bookstore, today!)

A Small Collection (by others)

2009-09-30T18:19:00.001-04:00

Here are some poems that I think are lovely and capture the days we've been having. Enjoy!

Grace
-Wendell Berry

for Gurney Norman, quoting him
The woods is shining this morning.
Red, gold and green, the leaves
lie on the ground, or fall,
or hang full of light in the air still.
Perfect in its rise and in its fall, it takes
the place it has been coming to forever.
It has not hastened here, or lagged.
See how surely it has sought itself,
its roots passing lordly through the earth.
See how without confusion it is
all that it is, and how flawless
its grace is. Running or walking, the way
is the same. Be still. Be still.
“He moves your bones, and the way is clear.”

Sonnet 73
- by William Shakespeare

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

The Autumn
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1833)

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them —
The summer flowers depart —
Sit still — as all transform’d to stone,
Except your musing heart.

How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.

Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!

The dearest hands that clasp our hands, —
Their presence may be o’er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh’d our mind,
Shall come — as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind — view not the woods;
Look out o’er vale and hill —
In spring, the sky encircled them —
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn’s scathe — come winter’s cold —
Come change — and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne’er be desolate.

The Lady of Shallott
-Tennyson

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance --
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Resisting

2009-09-25T13:41:00.002-04:00

Dear Readers,

There is a truth universally acknowledged, that a student in possession of a steady progression of homework, must be in want of distraction. Or a student in possession of a lovely weekend must ignore her work.

Rather, I am not ignoring. I am resting in resistance. I am reveling in a small space of glory. I worked hard yesterday and began the weekend in a Starbucks corner, reading Shakespeare, writing a paper. I missed the glorious day until I met up with two wva students to talk about life and break out the dexterity check. I am excited for them. I want them to see this whole journey from two years down the road, from the person who has taken too long to realize what Servant Leadership means, what critical thinking, what a timely word employs. I want them to rest in the fact that God has brought them here, for this space of time, to teach and shape them and for them to be used as well. It is a beautiful and frightening thing to think of how well I knew both of their staffers and I can see how much they look up to them and have been changed through those relationships. We carry so much for each other just by being present. Just for five days.

Another glory of these days, as filled with difficulty and frustration as they have been, are the moments of realizing how wonderful the community is here. I have been missing Beach Project. I have missed the dinners and the constant conversations and laundry and tea on the porch and the ocean breeze and swimming in the ocean at night. But I have also seen the places where community can happen at Penn State. I have been the guest of the Navigator's Duplex thrice in the previous seven days. They welcomed us for fire and food after Navs last week. They let me leave my bike there that I picked up several days later. I was then over there on Thursday night until the early morning discussing evangelism, relationship witnessing, honest truth speaking, confusion, questioning, glory in a sleepy, cheese-it filled living room. And then after Navs we congregated there again and had a beautiful conversation between atheists and various Christians about the world and how it works and practicing our beliefs and statements. It made me wish I had a living room to welcome people into, though I remember now as I type Lauren Winner from "Mudhouse Sabbath" claiming that we must welcome into our smallest corners. Wishing for greater space is a copout. And I am grateful for the small spaces and messiness given to us by the Duplex inhabitants.

Other beautiful things that have been moving and growing has been my presence at Oakwood Presbyterian Church on Sunday mornings. This was a change from Calvary Baptist, my church for the previous two years. There were several reasons for this change and one that I have seen no reason to regret. Pastor Russ has been a faithful bearer of The Word and constantly proclaims to us Christ and who we now are in Him. I have learned so much from his words, as well as the other families and leaders that have taken time and care to get to know us. There is Fiona, the woman from Scotland who teaches Italian language and culture who gives us a ride each week; there is Alex and Becky who lead RUF and who have two little boys, Whit and Miles. Whit and Jack (Pastor Russ's son) are the same age and two halfs of one soul. They run without stop around the fellowship room's center pole. And there is Mr. Houston who teaches Sunday school and his wife. They homeschool their kids and we play with them via Four Square games between and after services. It is a different church than any I have attended for very long but is an extension of my experience at 1st Presbyterian Church of Ocean City, where I attended this summer.

This weekend has been another gift: Kent and Lindsey came to visit! These are two dear friends from the summer. Lindsey was a leader and Kent, a good brother who would drink tea with me on the front porch. Both appeared in poems (see past posts); Kent in "The Gospel According to Kent" and Lindsey in "Walk II". We met up at Panera with Ruthann, Jeremy, Marian, and Katie Stick. We stayed there for many hours before migrating to Saints and then to my room where Kent and Ruthann read favorite Proverbs aloud; we all shared songs; Lindsey encouraged us in discussing discerning false and empty churches that do not preach Christ; and I could not stop smiling. It was restful to be with them and be able to process the summer. I have had little chance to do that and little knowledge of how best to do it. Today was a good step in that direction. Tomorrow, I will be going with Ruthann to Altoona where we shall once again join cooking forces (well... she is the force. I encourage) for Curt's birthday! I am delighted to spend more time with them all before October rushes in upon us.

In other news, I am currently reading:
Taste and See by John Piper
Love is an Orientation by Marin
Receiving the Gift of Friendship by Reinders
Story Matters
Wendell Berry (when I get a chance! His writing makes me happy)
Shakespeare

Much reading. Little focused time. I wish I could spend more enjoying these books but I plow ahead when I get a chance.

In other other news, Penn State lost and we are ashamed.

In other other other news, I received a box in the mail today from Daniel that contained unexpected letters from my Erskine friends! I was shocked and overjoyed and ready to cry. I curled up in my blanket, and read them all in one sitting. I couldn't not read them all at once. An unopened letter is irresistable, far more than snow crying to be walked on. I mean that. I did not expect such love and encouragement to come from that corner. Not that I didn't expect it. But it was so totally beyond anything I could have imagined. David Hubbs, the tea connoissoir even gave me some of his favorite loose leaf to try! Oh, and Daniel also included several delightful letters from himself with some more tea. In short, a lovely day was made exquisite.

But perhaps you are simply tired of hearing such updatish things. Many other things are happening but these are the particularly lovely parts.

(PS. An especial congratulation to Caleb and Sallie for their engagement! Hurrah!)

Intensity

2009-09-07T09:56:00.002-04:00

Hello blogging world, this month has been intense.

School is a hard start every year but this one seemed particularly challenging. I was struggling with transitioning from Beach Project life, to home, to school. I was intensely tired and found my schedule uncommonly unwieldy. I think it was solely on my mother's prayers that it even worked! Now I'm in several challenging courses, one of which has me ecstatic: fiction writing! Of all my course work, I want to invest in this the most. The others are interesting and seem to be offering very real challenges in discovering truth. Byron Borger (heartsandmindsbooks.com) has been of particular help in providing me with many book recommendations that I shall attempt to work through as helpful perspectives on topics such as: critical theory, the nature of text interpretation, disability theory (or the theology of disability, homosexuality, literary excellence, human relationship to the body, and the joy of writing. I am so excited to pour myself into these studies and I feel more excitement in them than I ever have before. However, it seems that I have less time to give to it... or perhaps I have more to distract myself from it. It reminds me of something Hannah Eagleson pointed out to me when I visited them in August: so often, people do not do what they love because they are afraid of failure. God, give me courage to do what I love!

This is a short update. I will give an update on RA life and Navigators very soon. Today Maryn is married to Nate Forney! Hurrah!

Conclusion: Sleeping

2009-08-22T10:50:00.000-04:00

I am sleeping. I am deep in sleep. I am dreaming. And I hear voices and someone said my name. I didn't quite hear it but I can feel myself shifting. There is this vague awareness of my body attached to the dream physicallity I carry. I shift again. More voices. I start to understand their words and my eyes from the dream are dark and I start to come up. I hear them talking and I know that I will wake very soon. But not quite yet. It is coming. I am reluctant. I know that when I will awake, it will be time to work hard and long and that joy will be required of me. I hesitate. Waking hurts every time and the lethargic weight of my existence sits heavy in my bones. But I will wake. I will move. I will answer the voice that speaks my name and makes my existence. I will follow and push through the rest. And in those days of painful waking, I will return in renewal. I will carry on the redemption. I will push and practice and seek and grow weary and never faint. I will wait in patience, purchased for me. I will be glad to be awake and delight to know.
Waiting for the sleep to ebb hurts.

In Defence of Kent/ Jeremy Eschleman

2009-08-22T10:45:00.002-04:00

I am ashamed. I really want to post these but they are "in context" poems. My poetry prof would be ashamed. "You can't spend your life walking your poems around by the hand, explaining it to people so they don't misunderstand you!" And here I go explaining. The first is an event where The Gospel was played out in a way when I was "beating up" my friend Kent with a green swimming noodle. The second is a lesson I learned from Jeremy, who (however much he drove me insane) showed me how deep my fears run.

In Defense of Kent
Light green. Light touch. It folds away and twists away
like palm trees in a hurricane.
Foamy, thick. What a satisfying smack it makes against Kent's head.
I giggle.
I continue thudding its weight on his head
He wimpers, "I had surgery!"
I continue thudding.
Two thin arms, one this face, one shrill voice rush between the swinging
instrument. "Stop, stop! Don't hurt him!"
My insides tighten and burst across my face.
"Don't hurt him! Don't hurt anyone!"
The small arms, stringy brown hair, rush away
and hide behind their mother's distraction.
I lower my weapon. My mouth hangs slightly open.
I bend at the waist because I cannot breath. I am laughing.

Kent considers. He tilts his face.
He squints his eyes and strokes his invisible beard.
He "hmms."
"I think there might be Jesus in this somewhere, Dana Ray."

Jeremy Eschleman
It was the kitchen
over boiling noodles and mishappen
cheesey milk that I began
to panic.
We were covered in our own sweat
from the ovens that would not boil
the cheesey milk.
My stomach was pinched as a mother grips the end of a thread to make it fit the coming needle's eye.
I (helpless) watched
as our dinner began to come undone in goopiness.
(I dislike cooking. I always cut myself).
My eyes effectively threw needle darts into his bristled hair
poised above the pot with a spoon and a careless look.
I whimpered at how my weapons were nonchalantly repelled.
Beneath the counter, I slumped in failure.
I pretended to ignore
the laughter
as my great enemy saw our disaster mounting.
He smirked. My eyes beamed ineffective death wishes.

Tables set. Pots set out. Plates served.
I turn, helpless, into a hug.
"I'm sorry Dana," the great perpetrator said.
"You shouldn't worry so much."
I push him away and throw water on him from what is left in my cup.
He is right.

The Walks

2009-08-22T10:39:00.002-04:00

These two poems are in two very rough and very vague forms. I wrote them for the two women who lead at the Project this summer and two moments I had with them that stood out. It so happened that both moments happened during long and intense walks. I'm finding more and more often that such moments happen in the places where I am physically active, where conversation and body movement are the same. I apologize for their obscurity.

Walk I: Confusion Over Clarity
"I don't understand clarity. I don't know what to do."
My voice was thin. It strained in a hot
New Jersey sun off the fading wooden boards.
I answered a question that I didn't have an answer to.
My legs cut angrily at the confinement of the skirt.
My hands swept dramatic circles in visible humidity, ripples and wakes left behind.
They slapped ripples into the ocean sweat
Sweat began to move down my back
in the New Jersey sun off the fading wooden boards.
I tripped over a tourist as I moved salty hair
out of my burning eyes.
My own ocean rain came from my eyes.
I brushed them away and stood straighter
and waved my hands more, swimming for understanding.
I held confusion at arms length, tredding,
and it tired me.
She leant her head forward and back. She looked at me
without expression. She asked questions.
My hands stopped moving.
I stood still.
Nothing solved, but clarified by walking

Walk II: Womanhood
Restlessness is a drink that flows easily in blood.
Nightime and Wakefulness are its makers.
Confusion and Desperation are its sisters.

We took the lit pathway of the boards
(they were slippery with the unnatural
act of the sky, raining. It shouldn't rain
on things such as boardwalks.)
It rained on us. Our backs were wet.
There was not a silence or awareness.
Our bodies strained ahead against wind and rain and disappearing tourists.
Our words marked the walking of a summer.
Our legs went faster strength entered memory
and became story.
Two shadows of a familiar story walked stride to stride.
Two shadows with the same earnest voice,
one of learning, one of wisdom.
Grace given. "We are alike
but you do not have to choose
what I did."
It was closure.

Restlessness is a drink that flows easily in blood.
Walking in dark, driven by sound of shadowed voices
heals.

Before the Fridge/ Hospitality

2009-08-22T10:37:00.004-04:00

The next several writings explore aspects of our community living in the same space and what we learned about God's glory through it.

I wonder whether life exists beyond the kitchen. My back slides down the front door of the fridge. I see the grimy edges. I did not sweep well last night. An ant crawls with a crumb in its mouth. The juice sloshed out of the pitcher and down the front door. The sink and dishwasher are running, trying to keep our messes clean. My fingers and mouth are sticky with chocolate and cookies. I am drinking the last of the milk straight from the jug. We talk about brother and sisterhood. Inhabiting time and space as our home, our walls, our roof, our air, rather than feeling incessant movement erode life into hours, into minutes, into seconds. There is glory in our floor sitting.

Hospitallity

enough rooms and enough chairs and enough tables and enough food.
Small house. Never getting bigger. But the people
always
fit.

Introduction: Straight Lines Considered and Explained in Straight Lines

2009-08-22T10:35:00.002-04:00

(Offered toward the community at Ocean City Beach Project, but also to you, my readers)

I have spent the summer in certain thought. I have stood on the beach and considered the philosophical grandeur of God. I have eaten good food and argued over fellowship. I have disagreed with many things. I have spent time taking copious, well considered, articulate course notes. I have defended my position and adopted new ones. I have read "Engaging God's World" with every ounce of concentration I had to give. I have browsed through Byron's world of Christian nonfiction. The lines of my thinking were clearly drawn and neatly colored between. I have colored accurately by number. I have thought in straight lines.

I told no stories. I spoke no poems. No words came in the fullness of life, the engagement of my mind, the growing of my arms and legs. I have not thought in color but had some clear lines drawn. I was waiting. I was tired. I am tired so that I am still explaining this to you, my reader, in prose. You are listening as I take you through my thinking, through the lines, through the process. And now it is time for an incarnation of this (I am waving my arms towards you, towards us, towards our invisible friendship). I need to say things in a different way. I need to take these thoughts and remember them in moments, in senses, in details. I need to say The Gospel in a way that is not always clear, but simply exists. Is. Does. And I ask that you wait patiently with me in the stories that bring life.

Explanation

2009-08-22T10:27:00.003-04:00

I've been in RA training. And before that, Daniel was at my house for a reunion of four months missing. And before that, I was leaving Ocean City Beach Project, 1st Pres, and a summer that I did not appreciate enough when I was in it. Enough to forgive my lack of posting? Well...

Gospel centered posting; right Ruthann?

Here is parts of my capstone. I offer explanations to each post to explain what I was after. I hope you enjoy.

(Oh, and I'm doing this as a series, so there will be many posts in the next few days. Remember that the chronology of blogs means that the first writings come further down the page!)

Summer

2009-08-14T21:56:00.003-04:00

Paris tea, Goldfish, fresh cut roses, swinging for an hour, good conversation, the final hours of summer:

There is redemption at the Eagleson's kitchen table.

Fade Between Scenes

2009-08-12T15:08:00.002-04:00

It is like being suspended in air, this waiting for the scenes to change. I feel no urge or compulsion to accomplish anything. I spend my days doing things that delight me and do not tire me. I made a pie. I sit with Daniel. I ignore phone calls to make. I do not remember well. I am stuck in between and I rest. This makes processing OCBP a difficult task (that I have not tried very hard to do); writing an impossible one. I return to Penn State and all that I have been preparing for in three days. Three! I suppose I shouldn't use such an exclamation point in an attempt to elicit pity since other ocbpers have returned to school already and are going through some hard times after leaving Ocean City. I know somewhere inside me that I miss it... I do... but not very consciously. I went from the strangeness of a goodbye to the strangeness of being with my family. I'm being present very fully right now and that is not always good. Most of these thoughts are extraneous excuses for not posting. (That and Daniel tried to take a "byte" from my computer. Silly fellow! Doesn't he know that eating food is far more satisfying?!)

And, as I said, I am going to include some of my capstone project, with a few additions, in the next few days. I would love feedback for improvements and criticisms. My dear ones from the beach enjoyed but did not critique. I would appreciate such responses!

The school year approaches!

Quick Update

2009-08-04T08:28:00.004-04:00

Today, I am very tired and only have a few moments in which to write a post. If I don't hurry up, I'll be late for work. BUT, tomorrow will be my last day. Two more days of Kidz Creations. I'm so relieved and glad.

The past week or so has been a busy and delightful one. Byron was here with his book store in tow and we had a marvelous time wandering through the pages and reading books as fast as we could so we could buy others. He spoke on Christian vocation and he and his family contributed to our crazy lives quite well! It was a week where I began processing the summer and started writing my response to it. Hopefully, I'll finish most of it by Thursday and put some of it on here so you can see. It was also hard because I started to emotionally pull away from being here. Telling that to the group helped a great deal and they have been conscious of including me in our craziness. This made the weekend a beautiful one.

(I can't decide!)

First, church seemed to finally come together. Our attitudes met with the graciousness of 1st Pres and we seemed to be one church for the first time. I even missed some of the best parts when some of us shared in Sunday School. I think in the realization that we will be leaving soon, we understood just how much they had given us this summer and were able to give a little back to them in our stories and music. We wandered around church afterwards and talked to people there. It felt familiar and we were encouraged very deeply by it. Pastor Sheldon gave a challenging sermon that went hand in glove with all that we were experiencing with them. Alex, Curt, and I were asked to do the special music. I couldn't help but grin as we jammed together up there and knew the church was worshiping with us in it. And then we took communion. The Sheldons kept telling me that I should come back and visit in the winter. I'd love to.

The weather has been a tad crazy here. We had some serious thunder storms and decided to spend our Sunday afternoon out in it!

(Trevor, me, Alex)

Please keep me in prayers in these last few days! I'm excited to see those of you in Hershey and continue trying to articulate what God has done this summer!

Waiting

2009-07-25T11:39:00.002-04:00

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in His word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning...
He will redeem Israel.
(Psalm 130:5-6)

Whate’er my God ordains is right,
He never will deceive me
He leads me by the proper path,
I know He will not leave me
I take, content,
What He hath sent
His hand can turn my griefs away
And patiently I wait His day
(A Hymn)

against the night sky of your waiting
your face is like starlight when He walks in
everything worth keeping comes through dying
love has come, love has come for you
(Ten Thousand Angels)

Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.
(Psalm 27:14)

Your path led through the sea,
your way through the mighty waters,
though your footprints were not seen
(Psalm 77:19)

It has been a long week. There were many trying things. Class was hard. Learning about racial reconcilliation is hard. Feeling angry about the whole thing was hard. Alaina was a dear and gave incredible love in the whole process. I think many of us in the house this week were carrying burdens that we didn't talk about. Perhaps we should have. We did a little last night. I am finding how hard it is to wait on God. Oddly enough, the theme of "waiting" was prevalent toward the beginning of the summer and even in the end of the school year. This lead to me reading "Waiting on God" by Andrew Murray (who was a significant character in my life via his book "Abide in Christ"). Why is it so hard to rest completely in the sovereignty of God? To trust that He knows and He works? That He is indeed loving and strong enough to act on His love? I do know it is because I am human. That is not an excuse. It is a condemnation. I am screwed up and waiting on His final restoration, waiting for the redemption of the now, is long. And how can I speak of it as long when I have only waited a very short amount of time? Absurdity. But there will be beauty made out of it.

In other news, there are two weeks left in Ocean City. There is much glorious living to be done in this town, or rather much glorifying life to be lived in the next two weeks. Byron will be coming on the morrow with a book store of books to set up in our living room. Ah! The smell of paper to return to in the evenings after work! What frabjous joy is ours!

I also directed my first meal last night! It took me the whole summer to get there but I did it! I helped coordinate the cooking, the prep, and the moving of 31 people and their food down a block to the park. It went wonderfully. There was just enough food... just. It was very stressed but I think that has gotten better as the summer has gone. I did not panic. And the food was good. Thank you to Mom for her recipe for Speedie Meat! Also a special thanks to Alex who cut off the tip of her finger for the cause of making us salsa dip! The park was lovely as the sun began to set. We played frisbee and laughed on the blankets, laughing. It was marvelous to have a change of pace from our living room/dinning room.

Also, a specific prayer request: in the next two weeks, I am to finish my payments to the CCO. Right now, I am significantly short. It has been a blessing to call old friends and catch up with them; and for those of you I have spoken to, I thank you a million times for your encouragement. Keep this in prayer. I know it will happen. There will be funds one way or another. But I still covet your prayers that all needs will be met. That's all.

Another thing: I am a fan of the Positively 4th Coffee House. This place is wonderful. The Ark is wonderful. 1st Presbyterian Church of Ocean City is wonderful. I will be sad to leave here. I am even more excited than my sadness that Penn State and a school year of work is before me. And there isn't even a little bit of sarcasm in that statement.

Mail

2009-07-22T21:10:00.004-04:00

There is something so incontrovertibly charming about receiving mail. It surpasses all the magic of computers and screens. It bewilders and delights more than any other form of technology. This summer has convinced me of this all the more as the occasional letter and package finds its way into my Ark mailbox. I wait in anticipation for all the surprises I do not expect. First, were the letters from Daniel in rapid succession. Both of us being in different places this summer meant that the early weeks were full of things to say in paper. And then there was a surprise box from Jenny Davidson just when I was getting discouraged, filled with deliciousness and a lovely card. And then there was a letter from my friend Chelsea and a letter from my friend Sarah and a letter from my Compassion child. And then there was an unexpected note from my discipler before she left for a week and a note from Kim Chez and a note from my prayer partner, snuck in while I was out to work. And then there was the cookies Maggie wanted to "test run" on me to make sure they weren't "poisoned" on their way to Steve and Ian. And then there was the yellow envelope and blue paper and witty remarks of Miriam. And then there was a card from Mrs. Shenk, unexpected and delightful. All of these have been surprises and reminded me of the joys of paper and pen (and baked goods!) sent with love. Letters are beautiful, strange physical connections from one person to another. More than any other token than I can think of (even more so than pictures), letters are a way to carry someone with you. They are a way to treasure something someone has made and invested time in. The sight of stamp and envelope and written addresses give more delight than any bolded "unread" email or the chime of a received text message.

And so I'm going to end with a question. My years in Sunday School lessons and pointed devotionals makes me gawk at this but I sincerely wish to know. I shall ignore my scruples and leap over them with well trained grace. Do you have letters that you have received over the years or recently that were remarkable in some way or that you continue to treasure and remember? What are their stories?

Visiting

2009-07-18T16:20:00.011-04:00

This past Wednesday, Dad picked me up from in front of the Ark and whisked me home (via a long 4 hour drive) for some R&R. I have been growing increasingly fatigued with noisy neighbors and not having some space to recover from several life blows that fell in quick succession. It was good to be home and in the quiet. I climbed in bed at 10:15 and was quickly asleep. 12.5 Hours of glorious rest. (deep sigh of contentment)

All in preparation for Thursday.

At 2pm, Hannah and I climbed into the car and drove to Lancaster Bible College. I was decked out in staff shirt, shoes tied, ready to play. I was so excited that I began getting jittery as we got closer. We parked and wandered toward what looked like a group of wva students. Incorrect! They were playing leap frog. Ah yes! The frisbee wielding Pegors was spotted across the parking lot and on the borders of a field. I moved towards them, and leapt a few times. All staff looked very preoccupied in their color teams and were practicing their cheers. However, Cara Craggett was unarmed against my excitement, and I sprinted towards her. It had been almost a year since I had seen her.

(Gretchen helping lead the Red Team Cheer for the Spamley Cup Competition)

Then the frisbee game began! Leah was so excited that she was shaking, waiting to finish the cheer competition. It was amazing just to be with them all again! JRedd and Sharpie did a great "Hide Dana from the students and give her a hug" and I remembered all over again how much I loved being part of the staff. Tim ran past and threw me a staff shirt. I shook hands with the staff I didn't know, hugging Michele in delight at meeting her for the first time, and learned names as fast as I could before the game began.

After the game, I hung out with Leah in her room, catching up on many things. Thankfully, we've been in touch over phone before now so there was just a little left to do. Leah has a gift of loving others so thoroughly and enthusiastically and I've missed her presence so much! It just isn't the same without her around. What I still can't believe is that we never actually staffed together! After dinner, there was a "Fandango" and Brandon let me tag along. We sat in the alumni room and I got to hear the joys and the sorrows and exhaustion of the staff and help out with a few things. Mostly, I sat and enjoyed the friendship of the staff and caught up with Sharpie and JRedd.

One of the awesome things about camp is Brandon Booth and his lecture 7 Sweet Lies. I ran in and out of this lecture until David said, "Hey! You should run down with us and dance to Listen To Your Heart!" Can I say that there is nothing else in the world that I wanted?! This was followed with BonJovi moshing (though missing chasing Daniel off the stage) and then Spamley Cup with Amelia and Ruth. I can't really explain how perfect it seemed... it was so restful and joyous to be doing these things again and with this community. I told Leah that I was going to cry when we reached the end of the night and I did, but not exactly out of sorrow. It was more of the joy of having had this last summer, of seeing God working the students and staff, and rejoicing in the friendships I do not deserve. The knowledge of Jessi and Eric made this joy a serious one. I have not been grateful enough for these times and these people. It can all be lost in a moment.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmoE8_U-JTw

(me and the Baldwin kids: Emma, Kate, and True)

"We don't have this grand scheme, this big plan, this massive dream. All we want to do is change the world, one student at a time."

Talley Ho, Worldview Academy!

Some Links and an Update

2009-07-14T23:18:00.002-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IeXazl1szI

Above is a link to a short interview I did about the Beach Project and some things I have been learning. It isn't the half of it, but a little. Note: I'm very, very tired in this video which is ironic because I'm speaking about rest. One of the non-restful things about my summer has been the neighbors drinking at all hours. Pray that this ceases or I have epic deep sleeping skills appear suddenly. There are also other interviews under OCBP 2009 Interviews on youtube.

Thank you for your patience in posting. I haven't been very together this past weekend. The primary reason is that two friends of mine, Jessi Brown and Eric Kauffman, died in a car crash last Wednesday. I heard Friday afternoon. They were a core part of my Navigator community at school and the grief of my school family is very deep. I carry the burden and grief at a great distance. It is hard to know that I am so helpless to comfort those I care about. However, I know that the love God has shown me in the past weekend has been overwhelming. From coming home to The Ark and the care of those folks, to conversations on the phone with Steve, and then Maggie coming to visit, God has been very present. Truth has been spoken in these far corners of mourning. What then is God doing at the center?

In other respects, the past week has been very good. Hospitality was the conversation we kept having last week in classes and in practice. It was really amazing to have my entire perception of the RA job blown out of the water (more on that later when the notebook is at hand to write down some thoughts) and then see hospitality in action over the weekend. The new CCO staffers came to join us in worship and fellowship for a few days. They were a marvelous group of people and we easily fit 15 extra people into the Ark. There was much rejoicing, many late boardwalk nights, some crazy swing dancing, good food, worship together, frisbee in the ocean waves up to our necks, spoken letters to Rachel Foose (the NEastern incarnation of Jessi Morris), and little sleep. I was wiped out. It was grand but exhausting. I was glad they came. Several of them will be very near Penn State, and Daniel will be on campus with us (CCO Daniel, not Daniel Stephens Daniel)!

In the next few days, I am traveling home to Hershey for several reasons. First: To see my family. I miss them. Second: To hang out with Isaac for a belated birthday celebration. Third: To celebrate Dad's bday! Fourth: To see Jen in "The Wiz". Fifth: to participate in the frisbee game shut out of summer 09 (camp here I come!). It will be a good time, I hope, one of continued rest and recovery.

So... what exactly has Dana been learning?
That the Gospel is so much bigger than she can understand. That is so much bigger than my sin, and I can't even comprehend my sin in a real enough way to properly understand the glorious Grace as it relates to me... much less the entire Kingdom of God! I really don't get it. I struggle and fight for it only to find that it is when I stop struggling that understanding comes. It is... so crazy. So beautiful. Words are so inadequate for all that I don't understand. And words are good... I grasp in words... and suddenly there are no words. I'm hoping to do my capstone project with some expressions of what I'm learning in this specific area. And so I give you no words of my own, but a song that was written on this very subject with far greater skill and joy.

Thy Mercy, My God

1. Thy mercy, my God, is the theme of my song,
The joy of my heart. and the boast of my tongue;
Thy free grace alone, from the first to the last,
Hath won my affections, and bound my soul fast.

2. Without Thy sweet mercy I could not live here;
Sin would reduce me to utter despair;
But, through Thy free goodness, my spirits revive,
And He that first made me still keeps me alive.

3. Thy mercy is more than a match for my heart,
Which wonders to feel its own hardness depart;
Dissolved by Thy goodness, I fall to the ground,
And weep to the praise of the mercy I’ve found.

4. Great Father of mercies, Thy goodness I own,
And the covenant love of Thy crucified Son;
All praise to the Spirit, Whose whisper divine
Seals mercy, and pardon, and righteousness mine.
All praise to the Spirit, Whose whisper divine
Seals mercy, and pardon, and righteousness mine.

©2001 Same Old Dress Music (ASCAP).

Prayer

2009-07-06T16:06:00.002-04:00

Several of you have asked me to share specific prayer requests. I acknowledge that I frequently underestimate the gift of prayer and so I'm offering some things going on here at the Beach that I long to see God move in. Thank you for being me with this.

- Lisa, Amelia, and Casey are the three women that I work with at Kidz Creations. Things can get overwhelming for me there and I see a lot of brokenness in their lives that I know I can't answer. I need patience and love for them.

- That our community of students is consistently glorifying God in all we do. Things are so comfortable between us that we are apt to forget how to challenge each other and love each other as we should.

- I long for this summer to be a Sabbath and so far it has been. Pray that my attitude in this will continue to learn what rest and letting go means. I need to learn what it is to not stress out in stressful times and not to worry when things clamor to be worried about. Basically, that I will learn trust and rest in my Savior's sovereignty.

- That in my investment here, I will find freedom and rest to return to campus in the fall. I had a talk with one of our leaders today and realized how worried I was about it. Going back will be hard and yet that is why I am here! I want to go back! Pray that I will find vision, find good dreams to dream, and that I will return to campus ready to go.

- Speaking of campus: pray for my Bible study girls; my floor of 54 girls; 13 new RAs; and the Christian community there!

- For our leaders here (spiritually, in gaining rest, and in their financial situations). Pete Ware, Curt Wright, Lindsey Smyth, and Katie Black. They have been doing an amazing job of serving us and showing me what a leader should look like. Pray for their continued sustenance!

Please remember that I long to hear from all of you. Email narnia50@gmail.com, call (though less likely to get me) 717-514-8793, and write

Ocean City Beach Project
P.O Box 937
Ocean City, NH 08226

These days are good. This weekend was one of the best that I've had here, mostly because I rested quite thoroughly and was challenged by good conversations and Bible study. Lindsey took me out for a bike ride and coffee which turned into a three hour conversation about calling, relationships, purpose, and God's inexplicable care for us in all things. This was followed by an hour at the beach talking with Hannah and reading P. G. Wodehouse. Sunday was marked by church at 1st Presbyterian, with Eddie Parker's talk on Galatians 6, meeting my prayer partner, finding a friend in Annie Parker (Eddie's wife), and taking communion together. I also got a chance to lead Bible study on Exodus for my small group. It was a challenge to plan and I learned several things (like "Ask more questions!", and that I'm an external processor and should never plan studies on my own). Today I spoke with a recruiter (Allie Molencoff) for the CCO ministry about considering them further as a post-graduation opportunity. To be honest, I have no idea how I feel about that. I'd rather know what on earth is going to happen at this very moment but that is definitely a bad idea. I can wait. But it was an interesting conversation that will probably be the first of many with this organization.

Well, at this present moment, I am about to be late for house worship. The Ark family is waiting. Please contact me soon! Ocean City feels like the center of the world; it is a small world that gets smaller the longer I am here and I need to be reminded of the outside world.

Love,
Dana

Getting a Visual

2009-07-04T15:04:00.004-04:00

It rained and left the sky on the sidewalks.

Hannah Coulter

2009-07-04T10:46:00.002-04:00

Byron Borger was here a few weeks ago. He was his classic self, lugging more books than we could read in a year to spread before us on whatever space was available (the air hockey table). I was milling around, smelling paper, when he handed me "Hannah Coulter" by Wendell Berry. Derek Meleby had recommended it the week before so I took it and began to read.

It is a book that invites understanding for the things we do not know. It feels very familiar and comfortable. It seems old to me, something I have experienced and resonate with. That cannot be true, at least not entirely. It is written in the perspective of an old woman looking back on her life. She does not slip into the narration that implies a present. She speaks through her memories and we are always able to see her present voice speaking these past things. I suspect that I have been given a friend that will remain one for many years. I can understand Hannah as she was in my age. She allows me to understand myself with the eyes of someone much older, who is almost a different person, who has wisdom and time in her words. She will also allow understanding as I continue living things she has lived through. There are many years to encounter them and I will be with someone who has gone before.

It was also an interesting read to continue considering "place" as a literary theme. This dominated my thinking and writing while in South Carolina with the Penn State class. I have never considered what living in one physical location does to you, how it makes you and the people you are with, and how little of that I have understood in my own growing up. I cannot wish to go back. I can only consider how moving forward with such things as the computer and the internet and cars and lights can be done to God's glory, in the celebration of place. It made me wish for woods and trees, away from the sound of traffic and the planes that fly overhead.

I'm speaking too abstractly. Forgive me. Perhaps what I mean is that I better understand the Ray in me that loves the distance of living on hills, deep in the woods gives.

In summary: I highly recommend this book.

The Guard Box

2009-07-04T10:28:00.001-04:00

The box where the guards guard against joy teaches how to fly. Sit very still and look out into the dark. Listen to the sound that is no sound. Taste the taste that is no taste (only in memory). Stretch out arms. Do not close eyes. Wait. Wait till a wave so full of itself and strains at the edges that it rushes under your feet and around your house. Watch as it pulls under you and behind you and toward the shore and the buildings man has built near death. Breath deeply. And it will turn. It will turn though it tries not to. It pulls out under you and you will see the ocean race away from you, and feel as if it carries you in its arms. Know then, that you are flying .No questioning or you break the spell. Know only. Know that you have been carried away through air and salt and water, a living baptism, in the guard box against joy.

And the boundaries of the world hold still.

Being

2009-06-27T16:26:00.002-04:00

And so we rest with paper and pen and stories, learning and growing. It is hard to be here sometimes, knowing how much need there is in the world. Knowing how many other places have "need". And still there are Sundays where we rest and are reminded to peace. Though today was a Saturday, today was a day of rest. And I look forward to tomorrow and worshiping with the church.

Some conversations over the past few days have included:

What is worldview? How do we teach it? When are students ready to learn it?
What is reformed theology? Why does Dana believe it?
Why does it always rain here?
Who is getting the mail today?
Where did the dog in my room come from?
Who is cooking dinner?
Where did the Alexs go?!
What is true ministry? How do we live in it? How do we evangelize?
What is it for Dana to chill out and stop worrying?
Who is Wendell Berry and why should I read his writing?
So... Alex really got caught in the bathroom?

This is just a small sampling. It is a summer of questions and wondering. A summer of searching. Joyful play and learning. It is good.

Reliance (A Prayer)

2009-06-26T09:22:00.002-04:00

My Father,

When thou art angry towards me for my wrongs, I try to pacify thee by abstaining from future sin. But teach me that I cannot satisfy thy law, that this effort is a resting in my righteousness, that only Christ's righteousness, ready made, already finished, is fit for that purpose; that thy chastening me for my sin is not that I should try to reform, but only that I may be more humbled, afflicted, and separated from sin, by being reconciled, and made righteous in Christ by faith; that a sense of my sufficiency and ability in him is one means of my being immovable; that I can never be so by resting on my own faith but by trusting in thee as my only support, by faith...

Lord, forgive me for this.

A Prayer from "The Valley of Vision."

Elmo

2009-06-24T14:33:00.002-04:00

Life continues here in Ocean City in its odd, distance from reality. This week we have had the unmistakable privilege of having Byron Borger (owner of Hearts and Minds Bookstore) among our ranks. His presence and conversation has instructed and challenged us all in very individual ways. He is up at all hours spending time with us and talking. He milling around the kitchen when I get up for work and it still going strong when I head to bed at midnight. It has been an astonishing reminder of how vast and glorious the gospel really is. The entire world is broken and instranged from itself in our fall, all institutions, all policies, all organizations, all relationships. And the gospel of Christ in us will bring life and healing to those places as well. I forget that the story of the church didn't end at the end of Acts. It is still a story being told, one that has yet to end, one of God's glory continuing to play out and command the course of our lives. It has also been a gift to hear the stories of God's redemption in the lives of my house-mates. We are learning to love each other even more and have much to learn from each other.

This post is specifically to tell some stories about where I am working. I am working for a woman named Lisa at Kidz Creations. I have had several different roles in the course of a week and am learning how to contribute. Arts and crafts aren't my thing but I now know the difference between acrylic and water based paints! More than that, I am getting a chance to do ministry in the oddest ways imaginable. The past two days I have drawn people into the store while wearing a large, awkward, smelly, red, furry suit. Who was I? Elmo. That's is right. You can read it again but the letters won't have changed. I was Elmo to entertain kids and get people to visit the store and notice where it is. This was done successfully. I could hear "my name" being shouted in little kids voices blocks away. I posed for pictures with strangers I couldn't really see from beneath my head. I have been hugged and kissed by many little children that didn't even reach the height of my knees. I have laughed silently with parents. I have pantomimed answers and danced at honking cars. It is the most absurd job I have ever had. No one sees my face. No one knows my real name. It is an odd disconnect. That disconnect triggers an overflow of affection and laughter in the people that see me. It is strange that a costume can give that joy. I'm not an Elmo fan. I haven't watched Seseame Street (did I even spell it correctly?). But it is a kind of ministry to be this character for them and delight them so. I smile too when the kids get all excited about seeing me. It isn't me which can be unnerving sometimes. At the same time, it is like a continual play. Hopefully, I have glorified God in my antics!

Ministry has also been happening in the form of stories. I was left in charge of the store last week and looked after Lisa's daughter, Abby. She did a painting project that involved painted feet and while I washed her feet, I told her the story of a great king who was about to die who washed the feet of his best friends to show them how much he loved them and how they should love each other; that it was one of the bravest things he had ever done. Today, I ended up at the entertainer in a cooking lull at the day camp. I got them in a circle and told them stories about fairies, dragons, and a soldier named Gideon who led a small group to defeat the evil king. The details were modified (mostly because I couldn't remember numbers and it sounded great to have Gideon go up against 1 million soldiers with 100); magic is used instead of miracles. But it is the same. The story captivates. I got them to listen and be interested and asked questions and confirm at the end that Gideon did in fact win against the evil king. I love how stories can attract and maintain attention- not merely attention but investment! How easily I forget such things! That what has changed me is, in fact, a story; the greatest one that was ever told; the greatest because it really happened. And the story gives it strength and life. It is not a "how to assemble" manual handed to me. It is real and is shared as we tell it again and again. It is the story that never grows old or weary or impractical.

So. Elmo. Stories. Cooking. Rainy clouds. Book talk. I'll have more stories to tell later.

-dana

New Placement

2009-06-20T09:32:00.004-04:00

Oh dear blog readers, you are now reading a long overdue update on the life and adventures of Dana Ray. You deserve better. Oh wait... it hasn't been that long. It has merely been exactly one week since I moved to Ocean City, NJ for the summer to attend the Ocean City Beach Project with CCO! This has been a week of extraordinary changes and learning. But there I go telling you instead of showing you. Hopefully, I will post a few more times this weekend so you can get a sense of the place God has put me for the next seven weeks (one down, seven to go!).

I am living in a house that can hold up to forty people. There are 19 of us. 15 students and 4 directors. Our house has been called "The Ark" for time out of mind and is rented from the same man who owned it twenty five years ago when the Beach Project was started by the youth director at the 1st Presbyterian Church of Ocean City. This summer, our group will be attending said church who is still really involved in our lives every summer. I have already been blessed by several conversations that took place last Sunday inbetween services. I got the chance to talk to an elder about the church and their teaching and beliefs (they are part of the Presbyterian USA church. Yes, my eyebrows were raised and I went in skeptical). It was a great conversation and I look forward to learning more from this church community. It has been a challenge to our group already, most of whom have not encountered the Presbyterian world in any form. Pastor Sheldon has been a gift and I have very much enjoyed my brief encounters with his kids and with his wife. They all have the most glorious red hair and the youngest, Joanna, is a dear who doodles her sermon notes.

Our other days were spent searching for jobs. True to all the serious doubts expressed by parents all over the board... jobs were hard to find. Please pray for this for all of us. I am currently working at a kid's arts and crafts center for a very broken woman in a very broken town. I almost quit because the first few days were very overwhelming but I'm still there and will be for the near future. Other teammates are still without work and desperately need jobs to remain here this summer. No one is being kicked out or anything, but the pressure is on.

More joyfully, The Ark is a place where the community is centered. It has a spacious main floor that connects by a small hallway to the large kitchen area in the back. We have a small basement area with deep couches but the living room is where we congregate. The couches are many and we shape them in a circle so we can gather for meetings. Dinner takes place in the living room too. We move the pingpong table and set up chairs and tables every night, adding one extra place for the unexpected stranger or guest, who we can serve as Christ. When it is empty, it serves as a reminder that Christ is present in our conversations and community. Upstairs is reached by old, twisty, and creaky stairs. It is like climbing a tower. My room is the last on the left down a long hallway. A cheerful yellow with two windows that catch wind and light, I feel like I am resting like a bird in the tops of buildings. I enjoy resting there and waking up with sea breezes playing in my covers and through my hair.

While this past week was one where we attempted to get into a routine (meaning we had lots of meetings), I think a schedule is soon to be found. It may look like this:

Sunday: Church from 8:45-12, Rest in the afternoon, Breakfast for dinner, Bible study on Exodus (with Lindsey Smyth!)
Monday: My day off which I will spend writing, reading, catching up on sleep, and discipleship with Katie Black. Bible Study on "The Gospel Centered Life", House worship, and House meeting.
Tuesday: Work for the day and then class time at night.
Wednesday: Work for the day and then an evening off or an optional activity. Evening off means hanging out with the House! This is also the day that my group (under the stellar director, Pete Ware) cooks dinner!
Thursday: Same as Tuesday
Friday: A free evening after dinner.
Saturday: My day off. Repeat Monday.

So far, my reading has consisted of some Flannery OConnor and Engaging God's World by Plantinga. Both have been amazing. OConnor... I don't know what to do with her and could use some help. I have so much to learn this summer and the reading list is challenging. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to write some fiction and poetry this summer as well. I am too ambitious as always, but rather that than not planning.

Well, it is time for dinner now. And I must continue a discussion about WVA with Byron Borger (!). The man, as I said at Jubilee, is a rock star. And he knows tons of folks from camp and I get to have a great time trying to get ideas for my Honors Thesis from him. I am so blessed to learn from these people this summer!

In Christ,
Dana

Graduation and Cold Water

2009-06-08T21:12:00.006-04:00

And now I will give an update on my hard work since coming home:

(chuckles) Those hours of sleep have been amazing. Hurrah for the chance to do it what school doesn't allow!

My incomparably beautiful and independent sister graduated from high school. We are all so very proud of her. The graduation itself was lovely. Friends and family shared memories, pictures were laughed at, chocolate was consumed in pounds, and much fun was (hopefully) had by all.

The past day was spent at my grandmother's in Deposit, NY. I have so many childhood memories of playing at these very waterfalls with my cousins. I hadn't done so since Grammy's funeral four years ago and was very lucky to enjoy a summer day like this with my sisters!

(we got into an fun water fight)

I also got the chance to employ my favorite pair of shoes. These chacos have been my grounding to the earth since I got them as a birthday present last month. They have served me well in woodland trecks, camping, mall wandering, road trips, and more. I have never owned such comfortable and versatile shoes. I think I might start joining my friend Jamie Zachavitch in wearing them to church. Hmm...

Next: OCEAN CITY BEACH PROJECT SUMMER 09! WOOT!

I have also been blessed to keep in contact with many friends who are starting to see God work in amazing ways this summer. Their stories have blown me away and I cannot wait to hear more as the summer continues. Please keep these folks in prayer and rejoice too in how crazy perfect our God's work is! I have been so encouraged by them!

-Steve, working at Eagle Lake Camp in Colorado. He told his boys the first week that they needed to share their testimony with at least two folks before the week was out. They went and told four people each.
- Sarah, working at an internship with engineers who are taking their time to teach her all they know. Was in a car wreck and a week later was practically given a car and more hours to help pay for insurance.
- Christy, back from Scotland with a passion for knowledge of Scripture and the pursuit of Godliness in the American church.
- Daniel, serving as the youth intern at Carthage Presbyterian Church in Mississippi. Turn out for youth events went from 7 to 17 in a week at VBS, and many doors have been opened for ministry and relationships.
- Worldview Academy camps started this past Sunday. The staff had a fantastic week at training. Having been with these people before, I can only imagine how God is going to work in high school students lives.

What are your stories of the summer?

Need, Money, and Re-Discovered Community

2009-06-08T20:41:00.003-04:00

I have been home for two weeks now and will be leaving for Ocean City, NJ this coming Saturday. There is much to do. One part of my preparations for this summer of training and learning has been to distribute letters to everyone I know, giving them an update on my life and what God has been doing and (grits teeth and writes it) asking for money. How much easier and less awkward I feel when I say "financial support". That is the term I use in my letter and when I see my friends face to face. But in my heart, the word "money" is screaming. I've been trying to ignore it but writing now has brought it to the surface. I told Mom yesterday after church (and giving out several letters), that this entire process has been one of the most humbling experiences of my life. I get awkward, sheepish, stumble over words, and constantly feel like I must justify myself when the paper is handed over. I have never had to do this before; all through high school, I competently covered all financial needs myself with minimal assistance even from my parents. While I know this (in my mind) was God's provision (in a job, in hours, in planning), my heart rested quite comfortably in the fact that I was providing this need for myself. I have no way to do that this year. For the first time in my life, I am leaning heavily, wearily, awkwardly, miserably, angrily, on the provision of God. He has chosen to give it in ways that I dislike very much. I HATE asking. This is probably because I know that I am the last person on earth to deserve such support, such provision. I am going this summer to learn... because I know so very little.

That last paragraph is a set up for the core of what I have discovered: in the writing and handing out of these letters, I have discovered a group of people who love me and care for me. They have been found in many places and in many settings. They are the Homeschool Moms who helped raise me; they are extended family, aunts, uncles, grandparents; they are campus ministers who have seen me grow in the past two years; they are old sunday school teachers (or my little sister's!); they are friends from high school and friends from college and friends from WVA. No one has responded with disinterest and more than anything, more than needing money and being unable to get it, THIS has humbled me. I know I am the last person who should interest these people. I know I am the last person who should warrant this care and the last person who deserves their prayer. I have talked before (and many others have as well) critiquing the dissolution of strong community in today's world. But I had forgotten that I could feel so passionately about this subject BECAUSE I had one. I have not valued it or appreciated it enough.

I'm really feeling a struggle to find words for this. I know that many of you who are reading this post now may be doing so because you were handed a letter detailing my Summer Plans for 09. It has only been a week... and the mere fact that I have seen you open the letter and read it and say that you will pray for me grants you more of my gratitude and thankfulness than I have words for. I am at the point where I almost do not care one atom for whether money comes in or not. What each of you has taught me in these past two weeks has been a gift.

God grant that this ridiculously broken and miserable vessel will somehow bring Him glory through all that has been given to her in love...

South Carolina

2009-05-29T17:57:00.009-04:00

I returned home to Hershey, PA, final grades in hand, this past Monday after two weeks of some intense stuff. I learned many things and found some new delights in life during those times. I described some of them in the post previously (such as long walks and cooking with Rachel and going down rivers in boats). I learned others in the following nine days that involved road tripping to Francis Marion National Forest, camping in various places, paddling somewhere new everyday, meeting a slew of lovely people, and road tripping home. It was intense; it was long; it was challenging; it was more than rewarding.

Some "new"s for me:
-Living without much... such as running water and toilet facilities.
-Hiking thirteen miles.
-Finding birds more interesting than trees (at times).
-Sleeping on a beach under the stars. And being very rained on and then swarmed by bugs.
-Eating peach cobbler for breakfast one morning.
-Finding country music perfect and singing it compulsively.
-Paddling through a field of yellow flowers.
-Watching a gator surface on a river as the sun sets.

We camped in three locations. The trip was designed for us to be in the interior of the low country in the beginning, move to the marshlands and in the intercoastal waterway, and ending in the wide open world of the beach and Capper's Island. We paddled everyday for most of the day and had guides who told us about the historical places we were seeing and would never have known on our own. It was amazing how much there was to know about these back woods areas just north of Charleston and how much there was to love. I can't fathom growing up there but I was learning to value its histories and characters and cultures and the geography that underlies and shapes everything we see. It made me want to know Pennsylvania with that kind of appreciation and intimacy. It was a beautiful place.

And I will never forget being unable to sleep Thursday night after the talk around the fire, finding a bush "one far see" away, and standing for half an hour watching the stars be clear and calm. And six shooting stars.

And I will never forget kayaking up Awendaw creek in our first day of sunshine (our fourth paddle of the week), feet dragging in the salt water, smelling marsh grass, and singing hymns under my breath. "Praise Him all Creatures here below."

Some "Nature" we saw:
-Swallow tailed kite, an endangered bird that was astonishing and overwhelming to see.
-A loggerhead turtle (dead)
-A bald eagle hunting on the waterway
-Dolphins with a baby
-Alligators (one was twelve feet long)
-Cyprus Trees hundreds of years old

Some History:
-Hamption Plantation (One of my favorite moments. We wandered around quietly and spun in the ballroom and played frisbee behind George Washington's oak tree. My frisbee got caught in it but Kalob saved it)

-An abondoned rice canal and many former rice fields (rice canal below)

-Shards of pottery over a thousand years old. We found them along the marshbeds and held time in our hands.
-Seewee Indian shell rings.

And I can't end this without mentioning the lovely people that I was given the chance to know. I heard some of their stories, watching them interact, saw our quirks and differences somehow work in a team. It was a time of some quiet for me, and there was a distance between me and them that could not be entirely overcome which saddened me. But I think it was supposed to be this way... our quiet times and me listening to them be honest around the fire in the dark, tongues and hearts loosened by the warmth and the dark and fatigue and the hum of the guitar strings. I loved the hours before bed, always the same songs again and again, and the sound of Eric and Kalob singing.

During the day, there were conversations on the river, like Hannah and I talking for 45 minutes on a hidden porch swing, arguing about poetry and prose with Matt, praying with and learning from Adam, answering Kalob's unexpected questions and interests, and playing "Would You Rather" for hours with Haley and Brittany.

Each and every one of them was completely unique, quirky, unexpected, and deep. Each had stories and thoughts and I completely misjudged them all when I first knew them. You simply cannot expect that what someone gives on the surface to be who they are. There is so much underneath that fills them out. They are not vacuous space fillers but people with personalities and characters. I just can't get over their stories that help color in who they are. I can (in one sense) agree with Hannah: "It restores your faith in humanity." I don't really have any faith in humanity and still don't, but it was a restoration of my value in the "imago dei" that happens even when we are walking directly opposite to that. It is something to look for in love in those I encounter.

I miss them.

Kayaking

2009-05-16T11:36:00.002-04:00

This week has been an intense one, to say the least. I have woken up each morning in great worry over what clothes I should wear or bring for that day on the water. It seems odd to adjust my clothing so minutely to the whims of the Central Pennsylvania sky. I have also learned a new skill that involves very oddly shaped and brightly colored boats. I've also gone from falling out every few moments in the pool to making it down Knife Finger Falls with only a little extra water in the boat. This has been challenging, to say the least, and exhausting but also something that I have enjoyed. Even in the physical stress of paddling all day, I've been able to wind down from the semester and rest. It is something I would definitely love to keep doing. Water can be so peaceful and so dynamic and surprising. And I've seen things that I wouldn't have known to look for otherwise, such as seeing a rainbow that was a full circle around the sun or an elk on the bank or a swimming snake. I'm also realizing how often I live in a disconnect between my thoughts and my actions. I am comfortable in classrooms, sparring with words and ideas. I am not comfortable doing with my hands and body. I don't have that option here. Of all the things that I am learning from this class, it is the meeting of the two that will create two halves of living.

And. I turned twenty. I missed being home for it, but it couldn't be helped and God provided some dear friends from the area to celebrate with me. Rachel and I have been quite domestic this past week and topped it all off with two lovely cakes and party hosting. Maggie, Chelsea, Rachel, Steve, and Sarah came in and out during the evening which included frisbee throwing, kitchen sitting, candle blowing out (an intense adventure!), French film discussing, a walk through electric fences up to see the stars, and creating a mental book of "Dana's Faces" with interpretations. Such good times and ones I did not deserve or appreciate enough in the moment.

I leave tomorrow for South Carolina and the final class portion of this semester. I'll be there until May 25 when we drive back to State College and then to home. I won't have computer access but will occasionally turn on the cell phone. Then it will be three weeks till Ocean City Beach Project! I will be posting extensive information about that soon.

-dana

So It Is True...

2009-05-09T22:33:00.002-04:00

... I HAVE been terrible about posting in the past...

month.

I'm truly sorry. Can I offer an excuse? Really you don't have to-- alright, if you insist. I know you are so eager to know what has kept me from the art of blogging.

In a word: finals.

Not necessarily final exams but the myriad of final anything that was taking place. I had several final papers and projects along with a few exams. I had final Nav Nights and final Bible Studies and final hang outs and final Theological Tuesdays and final naps on the Mall grass to take and final Maryn mixes to listen to and final Websters visits to make and final drinking Tazo teas under large, dark, spreading green trees.

It sounds like I did nothing but leisure in the past month. I didn't. I wrote a great deal for classes and read an even greater deal. But all of this is very trite and meaningless since the entire collegiate world is in the grips of panic and stress. Can I complain? Not really. But I am glad that the endings are almost done ending and that I can now look with great anticipation toward beginnings.

For example: my transition time from school into summer will be with Eng 297: The Beach taught by Professor Bob Burkholder. I have been in weekly classes with him and twelve other students, and have posted about it before. I'll be starting the kayak training this coming Monday and next Sunday we will drive to South Carolina (about thirty miles north of Charleston) for our trip. I'm very excited and very aware that I'm not prepared at all. However, I think the movement from class into other kinds of work will be very helpful for me to start focusing on Ocean City Beach Project, which will be my home from June 13 through August 8. But more on that another time.

I've missed my sisters. Tonight, Gretchen and I lip synched to songs from "Wicked" in the basement, taking on roles and playing them up. Such a good time! I love doing ridiculous things like that with them, and seeing my brother be the coolest person ever. I also miss nights talking late and long with Hannah. As an example of what these are like:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzF2_MWB_t4
4:48 to 5:43

What I also know is that not one of you will watch it. But it is so charming that I had to share it anyway.

AND. I get to sleep in my own bed tonight. In perfect quiet, far from the sound of cars and heels.

-dana

Time

2009-04-15T10:56:00.004-04:00

It moves.

Far.

Too.

Fast.

I don't do well with endings. Does anyone? What would "doing well with endings" even look like? Not crying? Not mourning it (a little)? Not wanting it to not come? Glad to see a beautiful thing become memory alone? Perhaps I do manage endings well enough: using them to remember how I loved something that will soon not be.

Time is good and dreadful. And I cannot change a single thing.

This has and is a good school year. Two semesters that have been harder than anything I had seen before. But uncontestably some of the loveliest times I have yet walked through me. Praise God that time does not end here but that there are harder and lovelier things still to come.

From A Lucy Barfield

2009-04-09T16:07:00.001-04:00

Once upon a time
I pulled down the set of paper
treasures. Their covers, smooth, light,
box like figures of trees and castles and swords.
I pretended I could read,
telling the stories of the pictures
that headed each chapter.
Beavers spoke (of course!)
and children wielded swords.
The old paper backs, binding torn, pages
marked and missing.

(They smell of aged ink, of story,
when you place your nose between the pages and
breathe).

Mom and Dad read them to each other,
before I came,
when they were first married,
when the sounds of each other’s voices still seemed
new.

I sat on the couch behind Mom, head bent, weight
pressed into her back.
She didn’t like it when I leant over her shoulder so--
but I could hear the pictures better
when I could see the words.
Fauns, snow, trees, lamposts
The Wardrobe and the Witch and The Lion,
with puddles and pictures that took you to
Other Worlds.
I prayed that God would take me there
before I was too old.

I have dusted off your book, Godfather Lewis,
and have grown old enough to be
young again.

(I began writing this after rereading the first few chapters of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe to a friend. To clarify any confusion, please reference the dedication placed before the first chapter.)

Pied Beauty

2009-04-06T12:44:00.002-04:00

GLORY be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough; 5
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: 10
Praise him.

-Gerard Manly Hopkins

Today the rain is coming slowly, in light sheets. It feels almost warm. I can disbelieve that it will be snow tomorrow. (sigh) I love this time of year. I love the tradition of listening to "The Secret Garden" by Radio Theatre. Again. I love Yo-Yo Ma cello music. And waking up slowly, surely, tucked deep in my covers while listening for the rain on the yellowing bushes. The Mountain is hiding now, hiding deep behind the mist and rain and the red tree getting all ready to spring into green leaves, starting all over again the walk into fall and winter. Or is all of fall and winter a walk into this time now? (I've been in poetry class too long. I want to enjamb that last word!)

I am eagerly looking forward to home this next weekend! I have a long walk date set up with Gretchen, some wrestling to be done with Isaac, snuggling with Jen, a kidnapp of Hannah for window shopping and coffee, breakfast with Dad, and who knows what with Mom (I'm sure we'll come up with something!).

April is a month of Poetry

2009-04-04T14:39:00.001-04:00

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

-E. E. Cummings

March 2009

2009-03-31T21:58:00.007-04:00

This month has alternately roared like a lion and roared like a tiger but there have been an unmitigated ammount of roraring with no hints of lambs trotting around. Not in the slightest.

When I last left you, O Best Beloved (to quote Kipling), I was about to leave for New Orleans. In case you weren't informed, I also returned from said city in one piece (though it was doubtful at times) and learned a great deal.

"Let me explain... no, no. There is too much. Let me sum up." -Inigo Montoya

New Orleans:

-On the drive down, we stayed at a church near the University of Alabama. That night, we took a long walk around the campus, playing frisbee, raiding their version of the HUB, and marveling at tulips. Growing. Right there. Amazing. I also climbed a tree!

-In New Orleans, we stayed at Celebration Church, an intense set up of bunk beds and hang out space and kitchen. Our days were filled with work in various local ministries. I was at the Kingsley House, a elderly day care center. These folks were incredible examples of deep and abiding faith. They have seen and suffered much. Their faith is strong and filled with joy. We thought we were to encourage them. Instead, we were blessed beyond measure.

-We had various free times that we spent in the down town area such as the French Quarter. This is a very strange, lovely, and disturbing section of life. It cannot decide what it wants and was unsettling for me to spend time in. However, I was with some amazing friends who helped me see beautiful moments.

-Speaking of friends... the fellowship was so encouraging. Much of the trip seemed to be up and down for me spiritually. Many days were struggles, and yet I wouldn't have traded those hard times since they were met with constant prayer and truth speaking from those around me. This deepened our friendship in ways that months on the same campus is unable to accomplish.

Other News:
- Things as an RA have been less intense but still very full. I haven't been able to spend much time with the other RAs between breaks and time with Navigators. My floor has been the quietest its been all year which I'm grateful for. Some wonderful conversations have been opening up with some of them. God has just offered encouragement for His work here. I'm standing here going "What? Really? I'm not responsible for this" and it is so exciting!

-Bible Study with the girls is amazing. Tonight, Sang and I led for the first time to start prepping for next year when we lead the study ourselves!

-The Play: Monday Leads to Murder. I got to see Grechen in a play which was awesome! She did such a great job!

-AND SUMMER 09. I was accepted to Ocean City Beach Project with The Coalition for Christian Outreach. I got this news yesterday! I will be living in Ocean City, NJ with 25 other college students from the North East regions and various staff members from CCO. There will also be teachers who will come and live with us for up to a week at a time. We will be trained in discipleship, leading, evangelism, and community. Please keep me and the rest of those apart of this in your prayers!

http://ocbp.ccojubilee.org/ocbp/

The Weekend (Otherwise known as "Daniel's Visit):

(Us tearing up the dance floor with our swing moves at the Navs Spring Formal)

-Daniel Stephens made an appearance in State College this past weekend over his spring break and made my month. There aren't exactly words to describe how good it is to see him. Somehow, we've been given three times to see each other in a space of three months. At Thanksgiving, I was sure I wouldn't see him until summer. Instead, we have these brief windows of time and each is lovely. I use that adjective too often but it somehow stands in a gap where words fail. Thankfulness and joy are the only two terms that come close to covering it. He continues to be one of the greatest surprises and gifts that God has brought into my life this school year. Never would I imagine the things He comes up with. It is true that all His gifts are perfect ones.

(The Lion Shrine)

Road Tripping to New Orleans

2009-03-06T21:23:00.003-05:00

My blue rolling suit case is a marvel. I have had it since I was young; it was a gift from Uncle Allan. It consistently, just barely, holds whatever I need for whatever period of time. One weekend, one week, one day. I cannot pack less than to the brim for each time. And each time, I have just enough to last me.

This coming week, I am heading to New Orleans with Penn State Navigators for some service projects. I will be working at a nursing home. These individuals are left without family, left without possessions. We come to bring company and some joy into their days. I am unsure of what the work will include but I look forward to it as well as the times spent in study with my Navs family. This will be a wonderful time of growing with them. Pray for us, that we will represent Christ well, knowing that regardless of what we do, He is the one who changes and gives life.

Stories when I return!

Mail

2009-03-04T13:50:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, I opened the Penn State Post Office.

Another thing to add and check off of the list of things to do before I die!

From Jubilee to Due West

2009-02-27T15:43:00.005-05:00

The miles under my feet this month have been extensive and ones that have caused considerable joy.

Two weekends ago, I joined twenty or so of the University Park Penn State crew on a road trip to Jubilee, a conference in Pittsburgh, PA. We stayed together in a massive hotel and conference center with 3000 other students and CCO staff. It was a weekend of hope and joy. I cannot claim a specific theme that stood out to me as being influential. Rather it was the encouragement of being in that atmosphere and with those students. I learned from our side conversations even more than from the lectures themselves. In company with the extensive discussion of culture, its pursuits, and its relation to our faith, there were many artists present. Many of these were musicians who inspired me with the beauty of their work. Joy and Peace Ike were two women I felt I could be best friends with. Their music was a time of worship for which I was extremely grateful.

Seeing Jane and Nate Davidson was also a delight. I was able to eat breakfast with Jenny Sunday morning and start to catch up on what has been going on in our lives. Having not seen her since Adele's wedding, this was a special gift.

Other thoughts that this weekend spurred:

-Presence. I need to be present to the community I live in, starting with leaving my door open more often.
-Excitement renewed for the idea of college ministry after graduation. I went to a CCO informational breakfast and am continuing to look into working with them.
-A reminder of the importance of community and hospitality.
-A desire to see the world. More specifically, to visit and develop a love and understanding for the church as an international body. I have never been outside of the developed world.

The following weekend found me in the car with Mom and Gretchen on the way to visit Daniel at his school, Erskine College. Again, it was a weekend of extraordinary joy. I was so glad to see him again and to meet his friends as well. We watched movies (Monty Python and WallE), listened to music (Indelible Grace and Sanctus Real), read aloud (The Hobbit to T. S. Elliot and Winnie the Pooh), baked (cake and bread), and ran around the quiet peace of the campus so I could see it all. Beautiful trees, fountains (posing great temptations to throw people in), churches and grave yards, and fields under starry skies. Even more delightful was the chance to meet a host of new friends and characters that people Erskine. It was wonderful at every turn to find more friends where strangers were expected. There was challenging conversation over good food; there was worship from frisbee to The Barn; there was joyful delight in life from dancing in Robinson Kitchen to pulling off the road to pick early daffodils. I felt quite at home and long to visit there again.

The return to school has been frantic but not intollerable. It seems mad to consider that Spring Break it not a week away. There is a great deal of writing to accomplish in this small amount of time but it will be done. I'll be heading to New Orleans with Navigators to do various service projects and invest in these people. I'm also looking at being a Bible Study leader next year for which I am very excited.

Ever Yours,
Dana

A Forestalling of Story Telling

2009-02-19T22:43:00.002-05:00

I don't have a moment to tell you all about the joyous weekend at Jubilee (CCO's yearly conference in Pittsburgh). So I shall leave you in the promise that it is coming and that it was wonderful. This weekend I am heading to Due West, SC to visit Mr. Stephens, which I have looked forward to with more than the usual expectation and joy. I simply cannot wait!

In conclusion, one of my favorite quotes from Pride and Prejudice

"Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain the feelings of each of her visitors, she wanted to compose her own, and to make herself agreeable to all; and in the latter object, where she feared most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom she endeavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Bingley was ready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined to be pleased." (Volume III, Chapter 2)

but hope as a way of turning

2009-02-09T10:19:00.002-05:00

I think that Hannah visiting was the best thing ever. I've missed her. I still miss home. But it was good to hang out with the familiar again. And I now think that grocery stores are the most amusing places ever to get lost in. If I had unlimited funds, I think I might start spending it on stationary and random cards.

The world is starting to smell like spring. I know this is trickery and that spring is not here. This is false. But the odd, repulsive joy of walking through mud and the warmth enough to swing for half an hour... these are spring things. And the deeper sky crossed by the forgotten tails of planes... these are spring things.

It is too early for this hope.

Next weekend I'm going to Jubilee. (www.jubileeconference.com) It is unlikely that I will be able to post until afterwards where I hope to regale you with wonderful stories and memories. If you remember, I'd appreciate prayers as I do my school work these next few weeks. Every moment is precious and I have a great deal of work to accomplish.

In other news, I rather desperately need to clean out my room. (sigh) Such tasks take all my motivation.

Environmental Literature

2009-02-04T21:51:00.004-05:00

2/4/09

(I realize now that I have reread this once and posted it that there is nothing new in here at all, even for me. But writing it helped me see that I did know it and could stand on it in the coming months of study. It's all world view studies, pretty much. And, of course, Lewis has already said it better than I could and with far fewer words. So keep that in mind.)

The spring semester of 09 is just begun. This is only our second real week of studying a subgenre of a subgenre in “The Beach”, an adventure literature course. In other, non-marketing words, we’re studying environmental literature, specifically that out of the coastal areas of the United States South East. Environmental literature, a genre without a home. I think it could be said to have started with Darwin. Odd, crazy man who had no idea what kind of hell he was chanelling into the world. He wrote what he saw and then made assumptions off of that. He wrote like a philosopher. He wrote well. This was not what we come to expect as science writing, the elite, the detailed, the criteria driven, the language bound. This was a free hand take on the world and it changed how the world saw itself. And it began with a man seeing it through his personal eyes alone.

And so we come to environmental literature. Rachel Carson. Annie Dillard. Wendell Berry. This strange baby of the postmodern world, the world where we cannot know things by the facts, by the measurement, by the concrete things we hold in our hands. But really, that “unknowing” has led to a stance that it cannot be known. Instead, we have this creature that is neither fact, the realm of science, nor is it creative, fiction and the realm of the arts. It is a both, a mix, a hodgepodge, a cut and pasting together. A close kin would be the memoir and all the battles it faces over the changing of a person’s fact into the fiction of a good story. Where are the ethics? Where are the lines? Where are the categories to judge the work by?

The judging does not exist. It is as the human sees, how the human knows, how the human interprets the nature of the earth.

And there, my dear friends, is the problem. Of the things we have read in our course so far, they have looked primarily at the world as seen through the eyes of the human. And from these experiences, they have been interpreted artistically in an effort to understand and to know, to derive meaning. They are using nature to create some moral compass to direct their lives and each person comes up with a different handful of mud and calls it the blood of life itself. C. S. Lewis once pointed out, “If you take nature as a teacher, she will teach you exactly the lessons you had decided to learn.” In other words, we see in nature what we want to see. It cannot be our guideline, our prop against which we judge all things for their truth and value. We’ve come in, already deciding what she is going to say. And in this, she can be twisted into whatever we like. If a person with a tendency after the heart of Emily Bronte, nature is a wild and dark passion, untamable and free. If you tend more towards Wordsworth, you will see it as a lovely, frolicky place to be. And if, as I so happen to tend, to see the world as a creation, then you’ll come away with something like the Psalms: “The Heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of His hands”, etc. This it not to imply that nature changes or that we ourselves decide what she is. How we see her simply changes and only one of them can be correct.

I would like to say here that I’m not objecting to the artistic expression of science but rather the human conclusions drawn. I, for one, am not easily brought to praise and in awe of the Creator through the presentation of facts and statistics, however well reasoned and remarkable they may be. However, if you show me the world through a poem by Gerard Manly Hopkins or a passage by Annie Dillard or a Psalm, I shall be with you in a moment. The writing itself is not the problem and can in fact be a gift when coming from the right direction.

The answers do not lie in nature itself. It can’t it won’t. We must go into it with right philosophy, with right theology, with right worldview, and, as Lewis once again pointed out, “We must learn our philosophy and theology elsewhere (not surprisingly, we learn them from philosophers and theologians).” Our study of Scripture then and our study of Christian doctrine, will be our place to start. We do not start by asking what nature has to teach us about our existence and meaning or our relationship with each other and with God. But rather, the question of our relationship to God must come first and by that, we decide the answers to everything else. The same goes in any study whether it be from biology to philosophy to English and the arts to music. Our understanding of reality must not come through these things but through the lense of the infallible truths God has given us. I think I finally understand why Phyllis Tickle was so upset at the Festival of Faith and Writing when she discovered that most of us in the room did not grow up on catechism. What upset her was that we had not been taught doctrine in any systematic way and were running hither and thither through our creative work and measuring the truth of our creations by our own standards rather than God’s given truth. It is something to worry about, to be concerned with. As a Christian, I must understand that this study of nature and the study of writing about nature will only be truly beneficial as it relates to my standing and relationship with God. And out of that, the rest will come.

The Macc: Winter 09

2009-02-04T15:33:00.003-05:00

Praise God for "le weekend"!

This past Friday, I got in a car with three other girls and headed 4 hours south to North Bay, Maryland. 13 Navigator Colleges in the North East gathered together for a time of learning, fellowship, and worship. All three were excellent. It was quiet weekend of normal bed hours, afternoon naps, reading in pools of sunlight, quiet conversations with friends over meals. The bay was frozen so as the sun set we ran out onto it to play and take pictures and soak it in. Those moments are better shared. Later, I went and sat on the frozen still dock, my feet hanging over the edge and resting on the solid ice. The dark is a different color when it sits on frozen water.

I am so thankful for this time. To be away. To be quieter and listen. To invest in some friendships.

"Not what my hands hath done, can save my guilty soul,
Thy power alone oh Lamb of God, can my spirit whole."

Time

2009-01-30T15:38:00.002-05:00

1 Year Ago... Mom, Gretchen, Jen, and Isaac came up to visit me. We went snowtubing after Navs. They left from the ski slope and I stayed into the morning hours flying down the hill in the freezing, biting air.

2 Years Ago...

3 Years Ago... I got in a van off an 81 exit and drove up to Lake Champion for the Winter Retreat. I surprised everyone and had one of the best weekends of highschool. The cold. The lake. The late night running around. The insane games where we tried to pull the guys out of a huddled mass. Pretending Narnia. The mayo snow ball.

4 Years Ago... I went to the Chill Out Retreat of Madness. Cold, snow, string, and the screaming of girls running through the cabin.

5 Years Ago... I went to a quiz off. Ninth grade. Or perhaps I was doing homework. Or perhaps I was at my first Chill Out Retreat with Sarah and Alysia. Everyone got sick and we pranked Pastor TJ's car. My group won the skit.

How did I get here from there?

Writing by Howard Nemerov

2009-01-28T14:20:00.002-05:00

We read this poem in class yesterday. Lovely.
-------------------------------

The cursive crawl, the squared-off characters
these by themselves delight, even without
a meaning, in a foreign language, in
Chinese, for instance, or when skaters curve
all day across the lake, scoring their white
records in ice. Being intelligible,
these winding ways with their audacities
and delicate hesitations, they become
miraculous, so intimately, out there
at the pen's point or brush's tip, do world
and spirit wed. The small bones of the wrist
balance against great skeletons of stars
exactly; the blind bat surveys his way
by echo alone. Still, the point of style
is character. The universe induces
a different tremor in every hand, from the
check-forger's to that of the Emperor
Hui Tsung, who called his own calligraphy
the 'Slender Gold.' A nervous man
writers nervously of a nervous world, and so on.

Miraculous. It is as thought the world
were a great writing. Having said so much,
let us allow there is more to the world
than writing: continental faults are not
bare convoluted fissures in the brain.
Not only must the skaters soon go home;
also the hard inscription of their skates
is scored across the open water, which long
remembers nothing, neither wind nor wake.

Cries

2009-01-20T16:12:00.003-05:00

I can hear my little sisters yelling across cyberspace for me to write a real post. And so I will but under great pain because I have a strong desire to post a poem we read today in class but I shall resist and instead, give a dull and lifeless update on my life. So in reality, it can only seem lifeless because it is about my life. Or can an account be lifeless and not the life it is telling about? Oh goodness. I've been in English classes all day and I'm tired and strange things are coming of my head. My most sincere apologies.

Life is Good in the Happy Valley. Classes began last week and here I am, almost half way through the second of them. It feels like I have been gone from home for a much longer time period than this but that's how it goes. Things with my floor have their ups and downs but mostly ups as I begin to hang out with the other RAs far more often than I did before. My room still remains my own and I begin to fill it with all of my earthly possessions. I'm sensing that it may take a few car loads to get me home this time as I literally keep few to none of my things at home anymore (neglecting the bookshelf in the basement, of course). This has raised questions in my mind of where I claim "home" to be. School... Hershey... or is it even a physical location? What about identifying home as with certain people? Or, will there ever be "home"? Hebrews 11 says not. At least not yet. I can live with that because it is a promise, not a deprivation.

This semester is going to be a very full and very rich one. I am going several places to see various people and do various things. Jubilee is high on my list of things I'm looking forwards to, as is Spring Break with Navs and a weekend trip to South Carolina. I am also, strangely enough, thrilled about the course work I have. Tuesdays and Thursdays are insane in their schedule but I still manage to find delight in my work at the end of the day. Mostly English work, I'm finally diving into the core of things I want to learn. I have excellent profs who are willing to challenge and converse and who also take delight in their studies and in teaching us lowly undergrads. This means that I will have a great deal of homework and reading to do but I'm actually very excited about it and all that is coming. From "The Beach" to History of the English Language, each is unique in their content and the type of work and thinking. I'll be proud when I get to the end, I think. Hopefully, I'll make it. :-)

Other news includes the starting of a book club for the wva staff! A few of us have been working on it in the past few weeks and we just sent out the email with information and details. Hopefully we will be hearing from them very soon about putting this into action. I'm a little proud of the whole thing even though most of it comes from Tim and Daniel. Of course, the success or failure won't be known until our first get together in late February. We'll see.

And snow. We have so much of it and it keeps coming and coming. You can smell it all day even in the clear skies. I'll get tired of it eventually but not yet. I'd much rather have this than that awful time between the last snowfalls and the first spring crocuses. Misery!

“I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood.” -Bill Watterson

My Day

2009-01-15T18:33:00.001-05:00

Okay... I just couldn't resist putting this up. I'll post a real post. Sometime. It is so cold here and will be getting colder before it gets warmer.

Snow

2009-01-14T20:54:00.000-05:00

Finding Again

2009-01-06T08:32:00.003-05:00

Last Friday, we had a small camp reunion in the Ray House. Tim Hurd along with his brother and his girlfriend came to Hershey to join Daniel and I for the evening last Friday. Frisbee. Food. Laughter. Memories. Hard sharing and hopes. It was short but full. I am reminded to live life fully when I can participate in community this way. I too often let days slip by without bothering to live them. Not everyday will be filled with memories that make me laugh, with memories that light up my eyes. But there is something in each day worth living for. That statement reminds me of two more useful statements. The first is a song by Sara Groves (And I Just Showed Up) and the second is a quote from Justin Lookadoo ("If God could teach me something through this, what would it be?"). There is an assurance in being with those we trust. Not in a vague way but with very concrete things. We have seen them hold up under strain, we have seen them in hard and rough places. We trust them. And when they listen, there is truth and grace given in those silences. "I like comfortable silences," Tim remarked as dinner finished up.

"And it's gonna feel like heaven when we're home."

I turn now and look at another semester of school. This break was good. Bailee remarked that I cannot begrudge the movement of time when it brought with it so much joy. She's right. I cannot. It is almost time to go back to Penn State and reshoulder some of the hard times, the struggles, but also the friendships. I tend to forget how much the people there are ones that I love dearly. It will be good to be among them again. Hope. This is a new semester, a time to, if not start again, at least change the course in the middle. A newness.

Yes. I face this semester with hope.

Still

2009-01-03T15:52:00.015-05:00

A year.

This is a (large) glimpse of 2008. In pictures. Each represents and event or some continuous presence that kept me sane and joyful this year. From siblings to Christ, I hope you are at least slightly interested by what stood out to me as highlights of the year.

THE BEST PEOPLE EVER.

No survival without family. The oddest, most beautiful thing given to us on earth.

First event of the year and one of the hardest and most rewarding. I learned a lot about myself those four days and wouldn't trade them for all the hard questioning it caused in the following months.

Working with youth group at Calvary Baptist was an incredible gift for the short time that I did it in the spring. Katie Mahoney and Steph Johns.

This semester was spent doing a lot of things. Not the least was investing crazy time in friendships and memories. Rest in Peace, Biznessman.

The week in Florida with PSU Navs was a special time and much needed.

The Festival of Faith and Writing was a significant time. While you see no writing going on in this picture, you see the Caedmon's Call concert I went to by myself that week. The concert actually encouraged me to do some writing and introduced me to some music I would hold onto throughout the rest of the year.

The absolute best part of my spring semester as my lovely roommate and friend Sarah Saltzburg. God blessed me through her in so many ways!

WORLDVIEW ACADEMY, WEST COAST SUMMER 08
The Best of the Best.
I've said things that need to be said about this in other places. See old posts. These people are still major characters in my life and must be mentioned!

Ah yes. Frisbee and Poetry. Unforgettable.

The People's Victory.

I fell in love with PSU football Fall semester. I know. Dana. In love with football. I had tickets and everything and went to my first white out game.

(chuckles) Couldn't resist putting up this picture. Visiting Tim and Kristina and Brittany at PBU couldn't have been more of a highlight if it had tried.

Colors were important this year. This is of an early fall day where I walked around campus singing quietly and taking pictures.

The beautiful fall retreat.

My girls on the Third Floor of Simmons were a huge part of my life. These are just a few of them with me on a Starbucks outing in November.

The RA job has had a few moments of utter VICTORY. Epic. I made it onto the quote board on Erica and Katie's door. I was never more proud in my life.

This was a highlight of the RA sagas. It was a cold and rainy day and I returned to my empty dorm to find flowers sitting outside my door. Thank you, Pat!

Maryn and Paige, my Bible study leaders. I learned much from watching them. I am also incredibly grateful for one on one times with Maryn who acted as my mentor.

Bible Study hanging out and being silly. These girls were so important this semester.

And a great gift was the entire Sophomore Class in Navigators.

Writing as a big part of my life this year. I journaled without ceasing and wrote some things I am not ashamed of: an essay for Jubilee and some work for environmental science and English. I look forward to pursuing this further in the coming days.

And the year ended with this person somehow ending up in my living room. And we sat and considered it and realized how we would have NEVER guessed such a thing back in July. A free laughter.

But above all, what I took away from this year what the phrase that I would write on my arm most days this past semester. "I am in Christ." It was baffling and humbling and what I clung to in all the things that confused, hurt, challenged, delighted me. All joy and peace. Not comfortable at all. In fact it has to be the most uncomfortable place I have ever found myself but it is a truth I would die without.

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him all creatures, here below.
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts.
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."

The Tradition Kept

2009-01-03T15:50:00.002-05:00

We are now three days into the new year, this insane name of 2009. The days have been spent in the quiet and peace of me spending every waking moment with a certain distinguished guest and so I offer no apologies for the lateness of this tradition of years in review, once again offered for your inspection and review. Laugh at me please. My answers get more trivial as the years continue.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you've never done before? Drove to Florida and back, staffed with Worldview Academy, became an RA, called 911 (three times)

2. Did you keep your New Year's resolution and will you make one for next year? I don’t remember last years. I won’t make any for this year.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Sarah Bomgardner and Emily Kulp

4. Did anyone close to you die? No

5. What countries did you visit? None. Unless California is its own world.

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008? Courage to speak.

7. What date from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? June 29, July 24, November 31, December 14

8. What's your biggest achievement of the year? That I realized that I achieved nothing. God was everything.

9. What was your biggest failure? There were lots of failures. And a lot of grace.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Twisted ankle!

11. What was the best thing you bought? Books. Registrations to so many things so more of things paid for rather than things purchased.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Some of my campers, Katie Stick, the staff over and over and over again.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and/or depressed? My own. Some dear friends making decisions that upset me.

14. Where did most of your money go? Events! Festival, LA, Jubilee, Worldview, retreats, coffee and tea with friends, etc.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Jubilee, The Festival of Faith and Writing, Worldview Academy and all that flying, seeing the West,

16. What song will always remind you of 2008? 100 Years, Revelation Song, Thy Mercy My God, ALL of 7 Sweet Lies, Everytime We Touch, Kryptonite, Springtime Indiana

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: happier or sadder? More intense. Everything is more intense.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Spending time outside.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Frittering away time. Worrying. Being legalistic.

20. What was your favorite TV program? I didn’t really watch anything this year.

21. What was the best book you read? Calvin and Hobbes, Dante’s Inferno, lots and lots of Katherine Patterson, Abide in Christ by Andrew Murray

22. What was your greatest musical discovery? Derek Webb, Sandra McCracken, Sara Groves

23. What did you want and got? Worldview Academy, the best friends on earth, to be an RA, the freedom to speak to Daniel Stephens daily, to know God better and to speak of Him with confidence. He let me see Him this year… a little bit. For as much as I was watching.

24. What movies did you see in the cinema this year? Prince Caspian, Veggie Tales, Highschool Musical 3

25. What did you do on your birthday and how old were you? Turned 19 and celebrated while on vacation in South Carolina.

26. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? To have been patient and loved freely. To have acted with greater boldness.

27. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008? A new love and appreciation for tshirts and gym shorts.

28. What kept you sane? The love of community, an extention of the love of my Savior.

29. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Didn’t.

30. What political issue stirred you the most? Human trafficking issues. Fair Trade. A growing environmental concern.

31. Who/what did you miss? I missed home and the family. I missed school when I left it. I missed work. I missed music and theatre. I missed writing (until Prof Mckelvey encouraged it again). I missed June. I missed Leah. I missed my camp family with intensity. I missed lack of responsibility but that wasn’t something I actually wanted taken away. I missed feeling at home in my surroundings even while I grew more at home in my own skin. I missed the one I never had to miss before.

32. Who was the best new person you met? Judy McKelvey, the Booths, Baldwins, Winslows, Bertrands. The staff (who aren’t one person but oh well). Daniel. And I forget that most of my closest college friends did not become so until last spring semester, so they must be mentioned as well! The Sophomore class is the best. Katie Fisher and Maggie Cox are in there as well and Tarun.

33. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008: Abide in Christ. He has other plans entirely and they are good. Trust. Walk in Him. Find joy, find life in Him. The crux of the whole thing: because He died and because He lives. Only in this will I be able to love, to serve, to lead, to be. This is the answer for all the tearing apart I did to my own identity in the spring. This is who I am and who I will always (eternity always) be.

Bookstores and Caramel Brownies

2008-12-30T23:12:00.002-05:00

Today, we (Mim, Abby, Hannah, Daniel, and I) went on a small road trip to Hearts and Minds Bookstore in Dallastown, PA. Never heard of it? Look it up online! It is fabulous in all respects (minus the green Santa). In other events, we nearly hit a mattress on 83. No joke. A mattress appeared out of nowhere and we nearly hit it. We also listened to Patty Griffin, The Wailin Jennys, and Sara Groves. At sandwiches, pretzels, and fudge while riding in the car. Spent 1.5 hours in the bookstore wandering. Christened a gps system "Toto" which had a propensity to desire a clear, unobstructed view of the sky. I killed it. We also stopped at One Good Woman for tea. The day ended with a long nap and Return of the King.

Perfect. Beautiful day.

Christmas Eve For Certain

2008-12-24T10:53:00.002-05:00

"There's only one more sleep till Christmas Day!"
"Merry Christmas!'

Currently Reading:
The many children's books we have floating around from years past
A City in Winter by Mark Helprin
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis (or at least parts of it)
A Christmas Carol by Dickens (or at least parts of it)

Currently Listening To:
Gretchen and Jen on the piano
Amy Grant Christmas
The Nutcracker
Sara Groves Christmas
Wrapping paper be all twisted out of shape and decorated for the morrow
Gretchen and Isaac discussing the play

Currently Watching:
A White Christmas
Muppet Christmas Carol
Veggie Tales
Our Christmas tree have its lights stay on all the time
The rain come down and freeze on the trees

Currently Drinking:
Raspberry Earl Grey Tea

I am so blessed to be here right now. I love home.

Always

2008-12-17T12:10:00.000-05:00

I cannot find a better way to say what I feel than this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHFK94QH5sU

The Gyst Book: An RA Vignette

2008-12-16T12:38:00.003-05:00

Each morning during the week days, I am required to go to the Redifer Commons office and sign the "Gyst" book (Get-Your-Stuff-Together) to let them know that I'm alive and checked my mail and all of that. Each morning I go fairly early to get it done before my first class and wish a cheerful "Good Morning!" to the administrative staff. They are truly lovely people and I almost look forward to getting up and seeing them everyday. Today, it is the Tuesday of finals week. I did not have an early class so I slept in to an appalling hour, got up, studied for my French final, wrote my paper, ate a late lunch and showered, only venturing down the hill to Redifer at 12:15, a good four hours after my normal appearance. I was greeted with "You're late this morning!" I laughed and said, "Well, it is finals week!" And I was told that Tim, an RA from another building, has been trying to show up before me each morning to beat me to the gyst book. So far, he has not succeeded even though I was unaware of the challenge to my early morning domination. Until this week. He's come at 8:15 everyday this week and I lazily slept until 9 or 10 in the morning before starting my day. Amazing. So I've been challenged and they are expecting me at 8am tomorrow to hold my own as the first in the office each day.

So good. I haven't stopped laughing yet!

A lovely picture

2008-12-04T15:28:00.002-05:00

This is my favorite from Thanksgiving Break. Truly elegant. I have a lovely family.

Unexpected Joy

2008-12-03T12:17:00.005-05:00

This has been an unexpected beginning to the final two weeks of school and finals and Christmas. The world can change unalterably in a few moments, a few words.

I did not compose a Thanksgiving post perse though my last one comes very close to what I would have communicated. I am thankful that Thanksgiving is how we begin Advent and I am thankful that my reading has been dominated by the final chapters of Mark, Hebrews, Psalms, and "The Gospel for Real Life" by Jerry Bridges. Maryn had study at her place last night and we watched The Passion. I was moved. I have more questions than I can ever understand answers to. Am I seeking answers though? A weak pursuit. No. I pursue my Savior, before whose face "all questions fade away" as Orual declares.

The time in Georgia with the family was extraordinarily lovely. "We are rather an opinionated family," my mother declared. Emma snorted, "Well, YEAH!" (grins) I love us.

The work has been tolerable so far. No great fear of failure setting in yet, primarily because of English class which remains my constant educational delight. I will sincerely miss "Mack", as my prof likes to be called, next semester.

I was also reminded while at home how much I actually miss it. It was lovely to see the crew from highschool, to run into them in the hallways at church, to finally hold Sarah's baby for a few moments, to eat chocolate cake in our kitchen and bum around in the room with Hannah. Christmas is going to be lovely. I have a lot of catching up to do with many. "Something to hold onto".

It doesn't quite feel like Christmas though Allen St is all that is lovely. Soon though.

Ever,
Dana

Painting Pictures

2008-11-26T21:01:00.002-05:00

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death. -T.S. Eliot

I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
Leaving out what it lacked
The future seems so hard
And I want to go back
But the places that used to fit me
Cannot hold the things I"ve learned
And those roads closed off to me
While my back was turned -Sara Groves

"The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning."
And as He spoke, He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at least they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before." -C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle

People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had the opportunity return. Hebrews 11:14

There is a time. Ecclesiastes 3

It was a day of joy. A day of waiting, and a day of surprise and fulfillment. A day of feeling like my heart had gathered itself, mostly, into that place in my chest it is supposed to reside. I could feel life out of my whole being. I felt alive. Not that I don't other times, but there is something of joy and laughter and good company that is incomparable to any other pleasures of this earth. Is is a joy that will last forever. But for now, it leaves a sadness when the dear ones are no longer there. The former ways of communicating just aren't the same. While the former missing has grown quiet, a new one is wakened. But it is good. Yes, it is good.

I Don't Know by Jen Ray

2008-11-25T13:30:00.003-05:00

This is a post by the Lovely Jen:

First, I don't know what to say. Secondly, I hope that someday I will beat me brother at spoons. Thirdly, I hope that I can make a special medicine so that allergies will become extinct! Finally, I believe that thinking books are stupid is completely retarded!

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

" If men were Angels No Government Would Be Necessary".

I Love That Quote!

Family

2008-11-23T19:57:00.003-05:00

Today,I was up early herding exhausted college students out of their rooms and into cars while I gathered a few final things and waited for Dad to arrive. He did. I loaded my things into the car and we were gone. We inched out way out of Happy Valley, glad to get away, glad to know that I'll be back soon. There is a story of a curse on our valley that condemns each soul who ever resides there to long to return to it throughout their lives. Perhaps I am coming under the curse.

But I was with family. Dad and I talked about books and ministry on the way home and vaguely hinted at next years plans. And then I was with the family, being attacked by Isaac and hugged by Jen and ignored by Gretchen until she could get rid of her final homework assignment, then a lovely chat while she baked cookies. I got to hear Jen sing in a concert and talk with Mim and Mr. Burlew.

I'm tired but looking forward to this week. I'm looking forward to time away from Penn State and away from the weight of responsibility. I am looking forward to not thinking of assignments and success and approval. I am looking forward to reading the (.:counts:.) six books I deemed necessary to bring with me. I am looking forward to girl nights with Hannah, Emma, Gretchen, Katie, and Jen. I'm looking forward to seeing all of our family together in one place, to be frustrated and delighted by our oddness and familiarity. I am looking forward for the countdown to reach "zero", to see my camp family with my waking eyes (I see them often enough in my dreams).

I am looking forward. I am hoping.

First Snows

2008-11-17T08:10:00.002-05:00

Yesterday we had our first real snow. It didn't last long but it obscured vision from here to the mountain while it lasted, especially as the sun got all caught in it, making it seem like it was showering gold onto the earth. I walked around in it and climbed a small tree. It was rather impulsive. Then I discovered that I had left my ID in the room and could not get back in the building. Oh silliness!

This past week has been alternatively lovely and insane, relaxing and intense, leisurely and frantic. The shift is usually in the space of a few hours and is always entirely unexpected. RA life is slow, thank goodness! Had some lovely times with my Bible study this past week and some other girls from Navs that I look forward to getting to know better. I've also spent a great deal of time pouring over an essay on Till We Have Faces. "This is your chance to write the essay you've always wanted to." Why is that assurance making the process doubly hard? I just need to let go of expectations and write the thing. It wouldn't be hard if I just stopped expecting so much from it or me. Just say what I'm going to say and it'll be okay in the end.

I found an article in The Collegian this morning that one of the Willard preaches threatened students with a knife. Some say it wasn't a bit deal. It makes me angry. The students make me angry. And my french classmate standing up for the guy has me in awe. I really don't know what to make of the whole situation. Some days I'm near tears walking past Willard because I'm so angry and upset at the two of them. Other times I see people really listening and I second guess that judgement. And things like this happen and I'm angry all over again. No one in the Christian community has taken a stance on it, we're all just watching to see how it plays out. Is there something we're supposed to do? I wish I knew.

Three tests, one essay, one dinner, one paper, three duty nights and then, oh then, Thanksgiving break begins.

Elements of Bizarre

2008-11-11T15:36:00.004-05:00

In English, I think she taught us the wrong information regarding Kierrkegaard. But what do I know? I can't even spell his name.

I tried to see Dad and failed.

Jehovah's Witness called my room. And I was a jerk, pretty much.

Overheard "Santa" screaming in front of the Willard Building that Obama was sent by God to destroy us. It made me want to cry.

This day is just crazy.

But (isn't it wonderful that God has "but" in His vocabulary, to give us a bit of grace?): I have a Thanksgiving Tree in my hallway and Bailee shared with me Psalm 13 today and it was so encouraging!

1 How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
2How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
3 Consider and answer me, O LORD my God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
4 lest my enemy say, "I have prevailed over him,"
lest my foes rejoice because I am(I) shaken.

5But [oh look! There it is again!] I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
6I will sing to the LORD,
because he has dealt bountifully with me.

"Best Set Up" as voted by Simmons Supergroup

2008-11-07T23:23:00.007-05:00

Pictures soon of the room in all its glory. Mom, Jen, and Isaac came and visited me today, breaking my intense longing for home this week with their much longed for presence! They also brought my futon which finally has a home under my bunk. The whole effect was judged lovely by K and Ed. Yanni refused comment since he feels it now downstages his own set up. :-)

(My studly brother, now at the current age of nine. I know ladies, just be patient!)

(We found a fire truck!)

(My GORGEOUS sister Jen!)

(Us at Penn State's Berkey Creamery)

I love them so much. I miss them so much. I can't wait for a more than three hours with them. Come Thanksgiving, come!

On two others notes:
1) I am IRATE that my camera malfunctioned and will not download my video of "Totally Like Whatever" as performed by me tonight. I'm really angry. But the performance wasn't that brilliant because it seems I needed to explain to my audience that their feedback was much wanted. I was assured that their stony silence was because they did not want to interrupt me. (makes a baffled face)

Never mind. I got it to work.

2) Thanksgiving plans are confirmed, ladies and gents. We are down in Athens and the WVA camp staff is descending upon us Tuesday evening through Wednesday. I cannot wait.

Fall Summer

2008-11-06T20:53:00.002-05:00

Frisbee tonight was so much fun. I haven't played since the midnight game at the retreat. I wasn't any good but it was still fun to run around and occasionally make a catch and not be so excited that I threw it to the people who weren't there. Unfortunately, that was my usual tactic.

I also visited the library and got several books too many but am trying as well as I can. I just need to read more. And write more. I talk about writing so much and yet I so rarely ever get anything truly accomplished! It is quite shameful.

Oh I just want to the family to come up soon! I miss them so much.

In other news, I have an essay frightfully soon and no draft so call anything close to a "first version". Really frustrating. I know that I'm going to love the essay when it is done... its something I've wanted to write for ages and now I get a chance to and I get stuck. The fickle good thoughts are coming for a time and deserting one right when they are needed most!

"And the voice I read it in was strange to my ears. There was given to me a certainty that this, at last, was my real voice." -Orual

Finished

2008-11-04T17:41:00.001-05:00

After three and a half months, the chronicle of my summer is now completed. There are no more stories to tell. I have remembered all that there were to remember and they are written in a series of four word documents resting on my desktop. Three and a half months of occasional writing and documentation, reliving, laying to rest.

It is now fully at rest. It has been in many ways for a long time. But now the physical remembering can now be laid to rest.

The volume of words astonishes me. I had no idea that I could find that much to say about anything in single spaced pages. I am grateful to have done so though I wonder now why I felt that I had to. 48 pages of remembering. What will I find there in the years to come? I have practiced story telling in those pages. I have practiced describing characters and situations. Even those pages have been very weak representations of the personalities, quirks, jokes, laughter, of those on my team. This it the first time I have ever tried to do something like this... perhaps, someday, the characters will live in other words, in other stories, other than the ones they made themselves. Maybe someday, I'll write a story about the real people who lived with me over nine weeks, even the four I was not there. Because I was in some ways.

But. It is closed

Election Day

2008-11-04T08:39:00.002-05:00

I just got back to my room from voting. The HUB was packed and it took 45 minutes of waiting to get to the front of the line and that was only because they told all the M-Z names to move forward. I stood and read St. Augustine's Confessions while waiting. And I voted.

It has distinct irony to the whole experience. The College Democrats were the only ones who volunteered to help organize the student voting. Of course they have an agenda. But it was still strange.

"There'll never be a savior up on capitol hill..." -derek webb

All Hallows Eve

2008-11-01T00:37:00.001-04:00

Here is a properly gloomy and creepy poem by Poe, the master of all things gloomy and creepy and masterfully crafted. This is NOT the Raven (which is far too often read) but is his work The Bells (not read often enough). To be read aloud.

Hear the sledges with the bells-
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III
Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now–now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
Of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV
Hear the tolling of the bells-
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people–ah, the people-
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells-
Bells, bells, bells-
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

Celebration

2008-10-30T21:25:00.003-04:00

I am in awe. Angelique Kidjo is my new favorite artist. It was Lebanon and swing dancing and a celebration that delighted us all and astonished and frightened the security guards at Eisenhower Auditorium. It was brilliant. I'm all alight now. I wish I had had a friend with me to share the moment with, to dance with. I danced by myself. She's so... alive. Vibrant. I've never encountered anyone like her in my life.

http://free.napster.com/view/artist/index.html?id=10514967
http://www.kidjo.com/

Listen. You will not be disappointed.

There are things to rejoice over. Why do I not rejoice over them?

A snow fall one day, reading Ecclesiastes in the downpour, aloud in a southern accent. The words came that way.

Sun the next, sitting by the fountain, journaling and catching up with Sharpie.

A beautiful concert.

Good days, non?

Basic Life Skills

2008-10-27T06:26:00.003-04:00

There are some basic skills one should have acquired through life and most especially when entering the medical field. But perhaps some of these were missed along the way.

It turns out that while emts are good and keeping people from dying, they are helpless before a girl throwing up. Psh. Their ratings just went way down. They have no idea of how to be a mother.

---------
(later this evening)

I owe you a greater explanation. My resident had to be taken to the hospital this morning with internal bleeding, passing out, and other such symptoms. Rather scary. But we survived and now I'm exhausted with a lesser view of the EMT profession or at least this one EMT who was a complete jerk. (makes glaring faces at him)

But this weekend was lovely. I was home Friday night and then drove to Philadelphia Biblical University to visit Tim, a WVA staffer, and my cousin Brittany. We had some crazy fun times as well as some excellent fellowship and conversation. Brittany and I chilled in her apartment, drinking earl grey tea and eating pumpkin bread. Tim and Kristina (his sister, my camper!), and I ran around in the rain playing frisbee. We had some excellent memories made and wondrous laughter.

Laughter is a hard beauty to come by.

Seek Justice, Love Mercy, Walk Humbly

2008-10-23T20:23:00.003-04:00

There are stories here. More than you can imagine. I watched one for forty minutes this evening, a Dateline Program, on sex trafficking in Cambodia. Five year olds. Sixteen year olds. Faces, lives, names.

Silence. When was the last time you heard about prostitution and slavery from your church pulpit?

Their face is mine. My little sister's. My little brother's. Yours. Ours.

Worldwide, there are nearly two million children in the commercial sex trade.

According to the United Nations Working Group on Contemporary Forms of Slavery, an estimated 20 million people were held in bonded slavery as of 1999. Almost ten years ago.

Approximately two-thirds of today’s slaves are in South Asia. Human Rights Watch estimates that in India alone there are as many as 15 million children in bonded slavery.

And these people are used in an exchange of cash. Would you put a price on the life of your mother? Father? Best friend? Niece? Nephew? Brother? Sister?

What would you do if this was you?

This is you. This is your family.

"Then they cried out to the Lord in their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper. the waves of the sea were hushed. They were glad when it grew calm and he guided them to their desired haven." Psalm 105:29

I once wrote a story about these statistics, about this conviction I have that these people are somehow apart of my life, that I am called to be a part of their lives, of these stories. I wrote a story about a girl and I was that girl. But there was something I left out of the ending: I left out hope.

Our God is a God who saves.

www.ijm.org to learn, to listen, to hear words spoken in the silence of our deaf world. See. Understand. Let your heart break. Get angry. I got an email from one of my camp girls today. They raised $3000 over the summer in her youth group, from the student's initiative, to give to this cause, to her brothers and sisters. If a bunch of middle and high school students can do this what can we do? What about us, the apathetic, the uncaring wise ones who see limitations rather than the voice of one who calms the storms with a whisper?

Know that God is a God of justice and He is moving. He will not be stopped.

Thy Mercy My God: Fall Retreat 08

2008-10-13T22:49:00.004-04:00

I'm the little one, second from the left. The entire weekend was one long moment of sitting and pondering and being quietly awed and settled into by the nature of fall. By the nature of God. It was beautiful. It was quiet and still. It was full and brimming. It felt like no such thing at the time.

And it was good.

We found an abandoned gas station on the road trip there. And old trains but those pictures didn't work.

This was the view when I had my quiet time Saturday afternoon.

We were making trees with our shadows.

The mist the final morning.

I totally caught that frisbee.

Me, Sarah (my roommate last year), and Melanie

The trees right as we went to breakfast.

Quiet. Alone. Community.

"... the joy of my heart and the boast of my tongue. Thy free grace alone from the first to the last, hath won my attention and bound my soul fast."