what a waste November 29, 2008

Wednesday, 12:05 am

This laptop has been atop my lap for far too long. Today I spent, oh, six hours or so writing that blasted paper.  More like writing a couple of lines, then checking to see if I wanted to gripe to anyone on Facebook about how long it was taking to write two pages, due the Monday after Thanksgiving.  Then picking up the paperback on Paul, only to throw it down again in exasperation at how little I absorb from unfocused skimming.  Then turning the onionskin-thin pages of my NRSV to see if a twentieth reading will gain me any more insight into Israel’s salvation.  Then checking Facebook again.  The mug of cocoa is gradually drained and eventually rests empty on the nightstand with a chocolate film across the bottom.  The sweatshirt comes off, goes on again, and comes off as the heater cycles through its stages of keeping the house warm.  The television in my parents’ room across the hall flickers, then a staticky zap shuts it off for the night.  Occasionally the silence is broken by my father’s coughing in his sleep.  I hope I don’t catch his cold; it sounds horrid and I know he can’t be resting very well with that much disturbance.

Back to the paper.  Glance through my notes again to see if I can figure out this author’s angle.  I can’t.  Not right now.  Let’s just splatter some words on the screen and hope that it’s not read too closely.  There, two paragraphs.  That’s a good stretch; time for another quick break.  Minesweeper, anyone?  Anyone?  Bah, nobody’s online who could offer a decent distraction.  Same in the real world.  Mom and Dad and Sister are all asleep, and the evening’s too far advanced to place a call.  I don’t know anyone in a time zone where a telephone conversation would be acceptable right now.  So I’ll make the rounds one last time: Facebook, e-mail, blogroll… nothing.  Time for sleep.  The paper can wait.

a diary of kinship November 19, 2008

1990: What is this thing? It’s all red and blotchy and making lots of loud noises! And it’s trying to take my baby doll! Why is Mommy holding it and smiling? Get it away from me!

1991: I don’t want her touching my blocks! Mommy says I have to wait till she goes to sleep to play with them. But I want to play now!

1992: I guess I’m getting used to having her around. But I still don’t like her.

1993: Why do I have to share a bed with her? She plays with my stuff when she’s not supposed to. Especially my favorite music box. I got in trouble for making her cry because I teased her about having short hair. Crybaby.

1994: She’s so mean. That man is taking our dog away and she says I’ll never see her again! I miss Sweetie. Can we trade my sister to get her back?

1995: I saw a book in the library that I liked: The Pain and the Great One. I think she’s the Pain. She says kindergarteners can’t play with first-graders, but my friend isn’t home from Boy Scouts yet, so why can’t I play with her friend, too? But I wish we’d play something more fun than School. I hate being the teacher.

1996: I love reading. I read anything I can get my hands on. So when Mommy makes me stay in the guest room all afternoon for fighting with my sister, I have something to do. I have a diary, too. Now when I get mad at her I can write it down to remember later.

1997: Why does she get to come to my birthday party at the bowling alley? Everyone in the third grade will be there! I hope she doesn’t do anything embarrassing.

1998: My sister is weird. I’m glad she has her own friends so she doesn’t hang around me all the time. But I can’t stand when Mommy leaves us at home while she goes to the grocery store! My sister tries to get me mad at her so I will do something mean and get in trouble for it later. I try to be calm, but she only tries harder, and then I end up in trouble anyway.

1999: She’s so dumb. Can’t even make the “A” Honor Roll. Every six weeks I get another blue ribbon, and she always gets another red one for making A’s and B’s. I’m surprised she even got to be in Enrichment.

2000: Finally! I get to go to the Intermediate School! That means I get to change classes and have a locker and be in the band… plus, I’m learning how to explore my own ideas through literature and poetry. Too bad we still have to do grammar stuff in Language Arts–I’d much rather get to read as much as I used to. But at least I’m at a different school from my sister now. She’s still in the fifth grade. What a child. Time to grow up.

2001: My sister has grown taller than me. This is so embarrassing–now everyone will assume she’s older (although that’s obviously not the case). I wish my short hair would grow back out soon. I never should have cut it. Now I’m the ugly one.

2002: Things are good as long as we avoid one another. That’s not too difficult since I’m in volleyball and softball and she’s not. But now she’s in the youth group with me, so I have to let her tag along if none of her friends show up.

2003: I’ve met this amazing guy, and I just can’t get enough of him. I wish she was younger and didn’t have the same computer privileges as me so I could talk to him more often. Plus, I don’t like it when she looks over my shoulder while we’re chatting; those are private conversations!

2004: She gets so mad at me when I chat with him on AIM all the time… but it’s not like I get to see him a lot! She doesn’t like him because she says he’s turned me into a “freak”. Can’t she understand that I’m in love? It’s not like she has a boyfriend to talk to, anyway.

2005: She’s got her learner’s permit now, and our parents let her drive us to church and back on Sunday mornings. Those are the most nerve-wracking twenty minutes of my week! But I’m not allowed to say anything about it, even when she’s making me extremely nervous. I’m glad I still get to drive the carpool. We sort of made a deal that she wouldn’t mention “him” if I wouldn’t mention her driving. That lasted about two minutes. Why can’t she just learn and be done with it?

2006: Senior year! I can’t believe it’s already here! Things are a lot better now that we’re both busy juggling school, band, carpools, and work. I stay out of her way, she stays out of mine. That makes for more peace all around. Weird–in less than a year, I’ll be off at college and I won’t see her every day. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

2007: It’s strange going home. Everything still runs about the same, except without me there. She still has school–it’s her senior year–and she comes home about the same time in the afternoons unless she has work. I don’t really know how to interact with her. Now that we don’t grind on each others’ nerves constantly, I’m not sure what to say or do when she’s around. I’m not quite comfortable calling her “friend,” because we’re still not close. But since we’re not fighting all the time, what are we?

Present-day: I’m so proud of my sissy. She has a full scholarship to the college she’s been dreaming about since seventh grade, and she’s loving every minute of her time down there. She came to visit me last weekend, and we had such a good time. It’s amazing how much we actually have in common! True, she’s still got her own distinct personality, but I never really appreciated it before. I can’t wait until the next break when I get to see her again.

more than a feeling November 12, 2008

Let me tell you a little secret: I am infatuated.

With my friends.

I crave their attention, and become positively giddy inside when they grant me that favor. I covet time with them and feel possessively jealous when I miss the boat. Once we do get to be together, it’s all I can talk about for the next few days, that is, until I come down off that high and start making plans for the next rendezvous/outing/chill time/road trip.

If I were inclined to sever current ties and run away, these would be my accomplices. Already we have shared  so much in the way of meaningful conversatons, prayers, joys, sorrows, confessions and consolations. The idea is not altogether far-fetched, especially if anything happens to give us cause or excuse. We could escape everyone we know and start a new adventure in a faraway place where our lives are unknown. All previous problems would be off the scene and unable to taint our happiness. Or we could just stay put, together. No scandals here; we are all merely seeking lives filled with the pleasure and comfort of one another’s company.

So, I am left asking, why has this not happened already? The fifteen-year-old in me echoes the words of dc Talk: “We all wanna be loved; tell me, what’s wrong with that?”

That’s enough, you. I’m older now. I know better. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be loved–unless you’re doing so out of the mistaken notion that you are not already someone’s beloved. And I’m not just talking God. You are someone’s Beloved, and that someone is your Beloved.

Yes, you remember a time when all was giddiness and possessiveness and obsessed chatter concerning him. You have had your share of daydreams which end in happily-ever-after. But now it is not so. It takes a lot more to raise you to that level of zeal. When he speaks of time spent with his friends, you no longer find yourself fuming internally about the hours you felt were rightfully yours. Yes, you still relish talking about him, but now you temper your conversations with other subjects to camouflage that heart on your sleeve. So is he still your Beloved? Doesn’t seem that way by your definition.

What is it you call love? Is it that silly array of emotional drugs which leave you dissatisfied with your current state? If so, then tell me: how long before you leave your next infatuees? When will they cease to be the objects of your undivided attention? No, child, you mustn’t let your feelings dictate love to you. This is  what you seek: let me even suggest a dream of having the idea of removing you from his life, and he fights with all he has to keep you. And you know you would do the same, because you are past the age at which love means flowers and candy and romantic dinners and stargazing in the country. You know now (whether you admit it or not) that love also encompasses those times you are angry at him or sad to be away from him or hurting for him. You know that you would fight anyone for him, do anything for him, be there for him always. You may not feel that way all the time, but isn’t knowing a more powerful notion than feeling? You must think so; after all, you haven’t run away–you are still here with the one you call “Beloved.”

in government we trust? November 4, 2008

For lack of anything better to write, tonight I bring in a sparse sprinkling of my thoughts on this year’s presidential election. Not about the candidates, not about the smearing and mud-slinging; just the election. Is there really anything else to it besides that? Why, yes. There is.

Perhaps it is because this was the first time I’ve been able to appreciate the outcome of a national election, but I’ve been as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs over today’s race. Whoever is elected to hold the reins for the next four years will be in charge of an awful lot. And both of the main candidates express different ideas of how they want to run things. I can’t explain it, but perhaps you’ve felt it, too: change is coming, whether we vote it into office or not. The world our parents and grandparents were born into no longer exists. Even though it had its own host of problems, I sometimes find myself wishing I could live in those eras instead of today. Not so much for myself, because I have been outrageously blessed in my short lifetime spanning the late 20th and early 21st centuries. No, I want to take everyone I care for and go back to a time when it was commonplace to raise children according to Biblical standards. It’s them I’m worried about.

You see, this next generation will have no memories of the rearing I had. I was whipped with a backscratcher when I went wrong (which is now considered abuse), I was given a big red “F” if I didn’t do my homework (red is now an ‘unfriendly’ color and ‘Pass/Not Quite Pass, But Good Try’ is the grading system), and I survived when I was picked last for a basketball/softball/kickball team (now you’d have to pack them off to a child psychologist to fix their inferiority complexes). Sure, I can have a tremendous influence on my children as a mother, but I worry about the other mind-molders out there. Doesn’t every caring parent? (I’m not even close to being one yet; I’m just guessing.)

That said, I have placed far too much emphasis in my day-to-day conversations on who is the better candidate for POTUS. Up until yesterday, I became physically ill with the thought of my candidate losing and the other one taking up residence at the Pennsylvania Avenue abode. But then a friend offered the simple reminder (which I do not once remember hearing during this whole process): “Whoever wins, God is still in control.” So as I sit in my dorm room studying microbiology and listening to Derek Webb’s special release of Mockingbird, I am reassured to remember that

my first allegiance is not to a flag, a country, or a man
my first allegiance is not to democracy or blood
it’s to a king & a kingdom

-Derek Webb, “A King & a Kingdom”