Bring The Rain

so before lunch today we got a little stir crazy.

and by stir crazy, I mean just plain crazy.

and we thought to ourselves

what kind of trouble can we get into?

Will said, "i want to play in the sprinkler."

I said, "we can't, man, because it's raining."

then, a light bulb.

who needs a sprinkler when you have rain?

duh.

don't know why i didn't think of it sooner.

so i led the pack.

into the best sprinkler.

and I thought, bring me joy

bring me peace

bring the chance to be free

bring me anything that brings you glory

and i know there'll be days when this life brings me pain

but if that's what it takes to praise you

Jesus, bring the rain.

It was nice?!

And so our quest continues to become better educated olympic viewers. Who. is. pumped?

So here's the thing. I have identified the hater spoken of in this post. His name is Dick Button, if that rings a bell (which, if we were hard core fans, apparently would... we are on our way, friends). And I've 'bout decided that, even though he looks like the monopoly man, the commentator can say just about anything he wants. Here's why:

Really I just was thrilled about the opportunity to stick a for real history lesson up in here.

The good news is that Mr. Button cheered up a little by the 1984 Sarajevo Olympics. Anyone got a 20 on sarajavo, by the way? Sounds like somewhere Sydney Bristow would go, but I'm not sure what country it's in actually. I suppose I could google it like I have every other piece of information I'm giving you here. But then what would be the point of this community?

Twice in two minutes, Valova and Vasiliev get a "that was nice." I mean, I would hope so seeing as how this is the olympics and all. But it is apparently a high compliment coming from Dick. So they'll take it... and their gold. Thank them very much.

Right! Okay, statistics and story and all that. Their names are Elena Valova and Oleg Vasiliev and they were paired together in 1978 when she was 15, he was 18. They entered the olympics as the 1983 world champions (skating events happen in this order, beginning in January of any given year-- well the olympics, obviously, only on olympic years: skate America, skate Canada, Nationals, Europeans, Olympics, Worlds with exhibitions following each event). Both are from Leningrad (which becomes relevant in comparison to Gordeeva and Grinkov who represent Moscow and a different government sponsored sports club) and trained under the supervision of the Armed Forces Sports Society and career-long trainer Tamara Moskvina. They were engaged at the time of this performance and married later in 1984. They placed second (behind, well, we'll get there...) in the 1988 olympics and became the first amateur pairs to turn professional that year. Though they divorced in 1992, Valova and Vasiliev competed as professionals until 1995 (the year Sergei Grinkov...).

About the program: it was inspired by the Siege (or blockade) of Leningrad that started in 1941 and lasted for 872 days. It was the second deadliest blockade of a major city and required that coach Moskvina be evacuated to nearby mountains for her childhood, where she suffered from malnutrition. According to her, this program is about love and the struggle to maintain it during the trauma that was Leningrad (present day St. Petersburg). So that is why the music is so epic. Well, that and you gotta go big or go home to please Dick Button. And olympic judges.

as a side note: I feel like I enjoy the more obvious interpretation of love in Leningrad by the following routine of Savchenko and Szolkowy. It is aptly entitled "Leningrad" and was performed as the exhibition piece after they won gold in the 2008 World Championships. It is obvious that this team representing Germany is intent on paying tribute to the victims of German invasion during World War II. First Poland with the Schindler's List program, and now Russia. The history major in me thinks that is beautiful.

because it needed to be addressed: that was some seriously thin hair with a whole lot of hair spray.

How about a couple of more olympic hopefuls? Again, there was such a wide variety of pairs to choose from, with even more performances to sift through. It is a hard job, but someone has got to do it.

So I'm going with Zhang Dan and Zhang Hao (no relation). They were paired in China in 1997, when Dan was 12 and Hao, 14. I'm just saying I was obsessively watching 7th Heaven at that age. We'll blame communism. That was a complete joke. Laziness is the real culprit. They competed in the 2006 olympics, which is the program I picked to show you because I think it speaks the most about them. And even after... what happens... they wound up winning silver in Torino. Now they are the 2009 World silver medalists (after Savchenko and Szolkowy) and poised for a medal in Vancouver. So look out for them.

The girl straight got up and performed an entire long program after landing the highest, fastest jump on her left knee. Sandra Bezic was right, that is olympic spirit. Tragically I do not know their relationship status, as per you never really hear a whole lot about the private lives of chinese athletes.

I can say, however, that they are "nice."

Uncharted Territory

(Insert clever, cheesy photo of self driving into the unknown future here)

(check)

So the odds are kind of stacked up against this year. This school year.

Already.

a. no roommate

b. Arkie?

c. Rhonda's resignation

d. work load

e. la petite maison blanche

Only a short list. But you know what's weird? I am so excited to go back. Freshman year I totally didn't know what to expect, almost to the point of being scared. Last year I knew enough of what to expect to the point of dread. Not like any one thing was dreadful, but I knew the routine and was not exactly pumped to get back into it. The curveballs came anyway and I found out quick fast and in a hurry that I truly, ultimately had no idea what to expect.

So that's how I'm approaching this semester. Expecting a lot of things, but truly not knowing what to expect. It's going to be a new normal. We're all in such different places than we were when we began school. Which, I am finding, is not a bad thing. It just makes things, well, different. But we'll learn, as we always do, to adapt and have fun and be.

And I am thrilled. To live and learn. Emphasis on the learn. But really on the live.

It's uncharted territory, whatever is coming. A clean start. Not entirely detached from the journey we've traveled thus far, but distanced enough from the paved way that it's like starting over. We're beginning a new leg. How we do so, given the past, is entirely up to us, now.

I choose optimism and faith. I choose patience and trust. I choose communication and diligence. I expect rough, but I hope to see the ground paved smooth.

And I choose to rely on God in the process. Oh what a process it will be.

Though from where He's sitting, the territory is hardly daunting. You might even say it's charted.

The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." -Deuteronomy 31:8

Shall We?

This post might end up in the hands of some receptionist at a mental hospital because I'm sure it could come across as the thoughts of a suicidal person.

But consider them the thoughts of a woman who knows that her days are numbered.

Not really. There isn't like a diagnosis telling me this. Matter of a fact I received an oft-coveted clean bill of health last week. Sure, I get a little dizzy after a lot of physical exertion. The doc called it "common faint." I'm sure what she was trying to say, in nice words of course, was that I was just out of shape. Still, I recognize the gift that is being able to just jump on a treadmill and go as fast as it takes to get dizzy. So it appears that I really do have a long life ahead of me.

At the same time I am keenly aware that it is just an appearance.

Call the authorities because I'm having thoughts about death. And the fact that I could easily die in an accident on the way to church in the morning. If not me, then someone I love, which would shatter my life as I know it. I know, I know. Morbid. Which is why these thoughts do not control my life and they are not constant. But sometimes I appreciate a healthy dose of reality: this life is fleeting.

"Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, and spend a year there and engage in business and make a profit." Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away." -James 4:13-14

So I might have misjudged my authority when I told you where I'd be on February 12. If I'm gone by then, promise me you'll watch it? Eh, what am I saying? I'll have you addicted for yourself by then. ;)

Where is all of this coming from, you ask? First of all, baby Isaac from this post had a skull fracture for the past couple of weeks. Most likely from knocking himself upside the head at the pool or with a toy. All it took for this situation to turn horribly wrong was a little swelling and too much fluid build up. Fragile. Then, baby Stellan went back to the hospital for a heart rate in the 250's (for perspective, at my cardio stress test at the hospital last week, the goal was to get me on the bike to raise my heart rate to a maximum of 200 bpm-- where my adult heart is at full capacity). Finally, my dad left for a business trip like he does every now and then on Thursday night and it made me think about how easily something could go wrong on that flight. Again, not overwhelming thoughts. But you know how they say that so often you don't see death coming? For some odd reason, I do.

I find that I ask myself often what I would do without dad. Or if mom is running late I think, for a millisecond, about what would happen if she never came back through the door. When I leave the house and yell "I love y'all" behind me, it crosses my mind that I may have just had my last conversation with one of those family members. And would I be satisfied with it?

Probably not. I don't know that in hindsight there could be enough words to convey exactly what you would want a loved one to know one last time. I love you is a start, I guess. So these split second ideas are around me often. They don't terrorize me, they humble me. Because I ask myself, if something did happen, would I be able to handle it?

Probably not. I don't know that in foresight there could be an understanding of not having someone around. And I don't crave to know it. But when that day inevitable comes, could I respond like Job?

"His wife said to him, "Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!" He replied, "You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" In all this, Job did not sin in what he said."

What I'm getting at is that there is so much good around me. So I take the small and inadequate chances to prepare myself for trouble. Shall I accept one from God and not the other?

Do Not Put Forth your Hand (Can't touch this)

It is obvious to me in light of recent events that all of the emotions and thirst I feel right now are in due time.

As in, in God's timing. Not some sort of inevitable human enlightenment or conclusion. Ugh, the word enlightenment takes me back to four excruciating years of worldview. The class. That taught me little about how to deal with. The world. Views. All sorts of them. God. For me, just one of Him.

I know that. I believe that. And I have felt that.

There is no going back on that. But there is something purposefully distancing me from the feel-good version of God-- the one I create on Sunday mornings and in times of need. The one often used to explain away hate and permit judgement. I have no choice but to trust that that "something" is Yahweh. The Alpha and Omega. The jealous God. The righteous God. The God who is I am. Not when I ask Him to be, but always. The One who doesn't need me to articulate my requests to get them. The One who doesn't need me articulating the right things at the right time if my heart is going to be insincere. Because prayer, true intercession, is about laying my heart in front of the throne.

I don't think it's that I only focus on Him at certain times that He detests. If I were wholeheartedly coming before Him even irregularly, I believe He'd take it. Because you have to start somewhere and God desires to meet me where I am. So it's not that Sunday morning worship is useless. Sometimes, though, I just feel like I'm using it. To say "look, it hasn't been more than a week since I got before God and humbled myself." I use it to say "yes, that is when I really worshipped Him." To clarify, it's not to say it or defend myself to other people. It's to defend myself to me. And when I have to start defending myself to me, there's an issue there. If there was a way around that, I would have found it. But the more I deny that there is a problem and defend my half-hearted worship, the more frustrated I become. And the larger the issue grows. This coming out of denial, confronting the fact that I believe God but struggle with knowing Him is such a rude awakening. And so refreshing at the same time. Because I feel, finally, that God is working in the distance. Matter of a fact, I know He is. And being able to know that He is orchestrating recent happenings is huge. Something I had been sorely lacking.

It's really not that I doubt God. I see Him around me. In things that I could hardly chalk up to circumstance or conventional wisdom. He works in the small stuff and I see Him most easily in them. I see Him in the miniscule because I believe Him in the big picture.

But as far as where I fit into that picture? I guess that's where my doubt comes from. I doubt that I am really usable. I doubt that I am able to let Him change my heart. I feel unmoldable. I doubt my ability to explain Him. And when I feel distanced from Him, I doubt that He is working in me. I hate that I don't have answers for people I would love to give answers to. I doubt that my views have the power to change the world. me. my. i. don't.

God. Him. He. does.

I don't have to have all the answers to the world. And I sure as anything don't have to pretend that I do. I just have to remain sure that I worship a God who does.

It's weird to me that I am so quick to see God in the details, the mundane and yet that's where Satan ends up creeping in anyway. The doubt, the feeling of inadequacy, it builds. Until it's inescapable. Until it's all I can see when i go to lay my heart down. It's all I can think of as I go to worship. And it gets in the way of my actually giving my heart over.

It is still mine to give.

Satan can taunt, tease, laugh, distract, disturb. He has access. A lot of the time I open the door and invite him right on it for some tea. But He can not have. Then the LORD said to Satan, "Behold, all that he has is in your power, only do not put forth your hand on him." So Satan departed from the presence of the LORD (Job 1:12).

My heart yearns for the presence of the Lord. A place the devil clearly isn't hangin' out.

He can't touch this.

Like a Baby

A song came on while I drove to church yesterday morning. I was about to skip all the talking in the beginning because usually live stuff annoys me. But then I listened to the words and got chills as I immediately realized how badly I needed to hear them.

"On Monday night of this past week about midnight I wrote a letter to the Lord. I didn't know where to mail it so i put it in my bible. And i asked him, 'Lord you gotta do something about my heart. You know, a lot of time has gone by since I met you, and it's starting to harden up. It's just kinda natural. I want to have baby skin lord, I wanna have skin like a baby on my heart. It's starting to get old and wrinkled and calloused. It's not because of anything I'm doing. It's because of a lot of things I'm not doing.' I stayed up til about 2 in the morning writing this...

Oh, Lord. You're beautiful. Your face is all I seek. For when your eyes are on this child, your love abounds to me. Oh, Lord, my body's tired. But you keep reminding me. Of many holy tireless me who spilt their blood for thee. I want to take your Word and shine it all around. But first help me just to live it, Lord. And if I'm doing well, help me to never make a sound except to give all the glory to you.

Oh, Lord. My faith is small. And I need a touch from you. Your Book of Books lies undisturbed and the prayers from me too few. Oh, Lord, please light the fire that once burned bright and clear. Replace the lamp of my first love that's fueled with holy fear. I want to take your word and shine it all around. But first help me just live it, Lord. And if I'm doing good, please help me to never make a sound except to give all the glory to you.

Oh, Lord, you're beautiful. Your face is all I seek. For when your eyes are on this child, your faith abounds to me."

I just listened to it over and over. I've known the song for... ever. Back in the Immanuel West days, before Saddle Creek or Rock Creek. Of course I should have guessed that the lyrics would take on a whole different meaning in completely different circumstances.

What's weird is that while the circumstances are different and I have grown in ways spiritual and physical, in a lot of ways my life hasn't changed much. I still go to bed at night knowing the unconditional love of my family and, many days, truly believing life couldn't get much better than it is.

Like this past week it was 70 degrees outside and beautiful. I got to see friends who have been out of town for the summer. I got old books at a library book sale and then made enough money at coinstar to pay for those books. I spent many hours pouring over recent memories made as I chose photographs to print off for miscellaneous purposes. I found out I really do get to have Arkie for school. I played trains with a 3 year old. The highlander had to be repaired for 1200 dollars and then we found out that Dad's most recent bonus is for 1200 dollars. Because God is good like that. I went to the pool with family. I went to the park with family. I got to work with an all star cast on Saturday and danced around in the banana suit some more. I ate Churches Chicken.

What I find over and over again is that the correct response to each of these statements, not just about the car trouble/solution, is because God is good like that. But often I just give Him credit for the getting me out of a sticky situation, not necessarily for the providing me with a great one. And then I feel guilty for how vain it sounds to say that my life couldn't get much better than this. Because it could. I could be and it's not because my faith is small. The pride in me doesn't like to admit that. And I don't like to linger in the frustration that results from knowing my faith should be stronger because every other area of my life is seemingly fulfilled. So I really don't have cause to complain or sulk or go all emo-whoa-is-me.

Yet it is a cause for concern. That so often I feel bad for not doing enough to grow spiritually instead of getting over the pride involved therein and just jumping back in.

There is comfort to me in the above introduction to Oh, Lord You're Beautiful where he mentions that the hardening of the heart is natural over time. I don't like that, but I suppose I do have to accept it. It just seems so pitiful to me that I should assume the relationship will get weaker. And it is pitiful that I let it get weaker. That it does over time if neglected shouldn't shock me. But every time I get to a place where I am less than pleased with my spiritual life, it still does take me by surprise. It makes me feel like a failure, that I've done something wrong. When really all I've done is let the natural fizzle happen for lack of time spent with Jesus. A lot of things I'm not doing. I should be more burdened for that than for the fact that the deterioration happens.

I'm glad to know it's not just me. Often I read stories of the people who straight up fell in a hole. A sudden fall.

For me it's a lot more gradual. Like the devil steady digs an include to lead me into a hole.

He doesn't get me down and kick me while I'm there. He lets me continue walking, seeing everything going fabulously around me. He lets me believe life couldn't get much better than it is, even distracts me with it, as I descend. He has me believe that all of the goodness around me is natural. When really it's all because God is good. And what's natural is becoming so consumed by the comfort of a peachy life that I forget the Source of it in the first place. And it slips my mind to remember to glorify Him with it.

My heart inevitably grows hard as its supply is cut off. The fact that it happens in general is not my fault. The fact that it happens in my life? It's because I let my faith grow small. And that is no one's fault but my own. It isn't the circumstance. It's not about how splendidly everything else is going in my life, or how not splendidly, for that matter. It's about the heart of it all.

"The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace." (Numbers 6:24-26)

Lord, you gotta do something with my heart... I want skin like a baby.

... on my heart. Not necessarily on my thighs. No offense addie baby who shall remain anonymous in order to help maintain some of your pride.

February 12, 2010

Let me tell you where I will be.

Vancouver.

That's a small lie.

My television will magically transport me there. Where I will be watching the winter olympic games. Are you with me? Peterso has no choice. Because that is just the way it is. And because she is the fool who paid attention to me that fateful day when I pulled up youtube and began exploring the world of figure skating.

I will now pay you the same favor. But do not worry, I will do it little by little so as to neither bore you nor overwhelm you (two things Ashley will tell you she has experienced late into the evening... many evenings).

It is mainly so I have an excuse to re-watch each of these programs and, for once, not feel like an idiot for spending my time watching blurry old olympic routines. Thank you, every 2 of my readers, for this opportunity. Seriously, though, this is fun for me. Because I really don't know a whole lot about the gold medalists from years past (I know a lot about the couples I do know) or about the contenders for 2010, so it's an experience for me that I want to document. Because as a history major, documenting is how I roll.

First I will show a performance from years past, then introduce a pair likely to find themselves competing in February.

So here we go.

We'll start in 1980 at Lake Placid, New York (shout out to MB). Y'all, this woman was crazy. By crazy I mean the most successful pairs skater of all time. Technically speaking, at least. Let me define successful: 10 successive World Championship gold medals, 3 successive Olympic gold medals. With her partner, Aleksandr Zaitsev, Irina Rodnina won gold at every event she entered between 1973 and 1980.

I mean, if I were a pair up against them I would have stayed home (I wouldn't have been and that's probably the reason. The only one. Nothing to do with the coordination problem or the Early Onset Trudy Smith syndrome). These two married in 1975 and had a son, Sasha Jr., in 1979. Their coach was Stanislav Zhuk, who also trained Gordeeva and Grinkov (we'll be hearing from them soon).

p.s.-- I don't know the skating terms, but I feel like that commentator drank a little too much haterade before he took the mic. I'll be slightly more helpful and mention that the couple this guy brings up a few times during the performance is U.S. pair team Tai Babilonia and Randy Gardner, who were forced to withdraw from these games due to an injury of Gardner's. This commentator may not ever get over it, I feel like.

Okay, as for the olympic hopefuls. I couldn't decide whether to start with the best, or the Americans. Then I didn't know if I should do their best or most recent performance. I went with most promising (in the hopes that you might return) and most recent.

Aliona Savchenko and Robin Szolkowy are the current and twice World Champions, three time European Champions and six time national champions (for Germany). They began skating together in 2004. This is their long program at this years World Championships, held in March, where they achieved their personal best score of 203.48 (someday I will research the scoring system and fill you in). I may not know the silly details like scoring rules, but I do have the important inside information-- they are an off ice couple.

What's poignant about this program is that they skate to John Williams' Schindler's List score while representing Germany.

This is fun, yes?

Well, for me, anyway. And now you know where I'll be should you need me on February 12.

What's for Dinter?

Around this house (it has spread to many houses, actually, I'm afraid) we put a lot of unnecessary t's in words. I might be the worst out of everyone.

The most common insertion of the "t" has to be in the word dinner.

So now you know I haven't made some major typo in my title.

Sometimes if I say "dinner" I correct myself and say "dinter." It's that bad.

Anyway, once a week I'm responsible for making dinner. Correction. I'm responsible for dinner. Making it is optional, depending on whether or not I want to spend money to take everyone out (I usually don't). This week I did two meals, so I'm petitioning to clep out of next week. I'm sure Trudy will pull some sort of "well I cooked hundreds of meals with no help, so I don't owe you a dern thing" argument. It will most likely work. So look forward to "What's for Dinter: 2nd

edition" next week.

My first exquisite meal was a feast of egg,

bacon ("how bout some... bacon!" name that movie),

tomato, turkey, pepperoni, and 2 kinds of fine cheeses (cheddar and pepper jack).

Otherwise known as the omelette.

I should mention that all of my meals are for now excruciatingly boring given that this Smith household is back on phase 1 of the South Beach Diet (boo!) So it's all sorts of meat and like 1 1/2 carbs a day for at least 2 weeks (woot.).

Okay so an omelette is and omelette is an omelette. Seen one seen 'em all.

But tonight I made what I call "Chicken FredVegas." It is chicken breast

wrapped up in turkey

then wrapped in bacon

and baked up in some cream of chicken.

Usually it has rice. Refer to the diet outlined above. 1 1/2 carbs a day hardly leaves room for some rice. Instead I served the meat with black beans

and a chopped salad with pecans.

Don't I sound fancy.

I even listened to La Vie En Rose as I cooked. That's high society.

Or as Mary Beth (who I finally got to talk to today) would say, "privileged."

The ability to up and go to the grocery, bring food home and prepare it for five hungry mouths. Yeah, I'd call that a privilege.

Just call me Sadie Homemaker. But 'cept for don't.

On life and love. But mostly about love.

I guess I'm just a special case.

Not special in the I'm so lucky and great way. Special like stop eating the paste special.

I can't exactly put my finger on just what it is. I mean, why is it that I'm not ett (eaten) up with this longing for a man? I don't feel empty or incomplete or frustrated or sad in regards to my love life.

Which, so you know, is non-existent.

And so we're clear, none of this is to boast how level-headed I am or what a fabulous place I'm in. I have no history to speak of when it comes to boys. I can count on one hand the amount of crushes (celebrities not included, Mel Gibson. Hugh Jackman. Kiefer Sutherland....) I've ever had. Those of you who have an involved past or are looking at a complicated future, to those of you who have an easy relationship with your man or are even happily married-- I'm with you. We face different obstacles and perhaps travel at different speeds and intensities, but I believe we're walking the same road. The road of finding out who that guy is and how we keep him around. And all the wondering in between. Our experiences are different and we're made differently. That's how it's supposed to be. I'd hate it to be any other way. Please don't envy me; little naive, inexperienced, unworried me. In return, I won't be jealous of you determined people who get to relate to the catchy relationship songs, even if they are the sad ones.

I guess I'll start at puberty. Is that TMI? Well, too bad, because that's when all the pressure starts. All the "he's cute" and "omg, I'm like totally in love" s spill into the hallways where short pimply boys are still a little clueless of the attention afforded them by giggly emotional girls with big dreams and little heartache. There are the naturally beautiful 8th graders who get the especially testosterone-y boys early on. It's like they've gone to the salon every morning and the dermatologist every afternoon, they are that polished. Then there are the awkward guys who know they don't really have a chance with those girls so they instead start making jokes about how easily they could have a girl if they wanted to. They act charming but they aren't really. And then there are the truly unassuming guys, all 3 of them, who the girls that know they don't have a chance with the perfectly coiffed, already in shape males crush on but never get because neither parties think the other is an option.

Somewhere in there is me. I look back and see all of this. I write about it with sarcasm because you just have to laugh at middle school. But back then? I truly couldn't care less. I didn't blow off the relationship thing because I was hurt by this system and wanted to hide that pain with indifference. I honestly didn't want a part in it. It seemed pointless then and it still seems silly today. All the tears and the hopes and the fawning and the expectations and the grooming all over boys who still probably didn't know what a vow was? I'd rather be babysitting, thank you. Or hanging out with friends and family. Watching movies and celebrating holidays and going on mission trips and to church. Anything but all of the drama. I didn't see myself above it, promise. I just didn't want to be in it. I guess I just sat beside it and watched as girls made fools of themselves to attract fools and get hurt. That was middle school.

High School. Not an entirely different story, except for that more attempts to get the guy ended successfully and it became more bearable to be around the displays of affection. As we grew, the capacity to have a meaningful and solid relationship did, too. I saw a good many of them. But still, the gossip and the talk of who's with who just didn't appeal to me. Again, not above it all. Just mixed up in it. To pretend one can be above it is laughable. The boy thing is all around in these formative years. And it is pounded into all of these adolescents. There is no elevation out of it. Even for the most spiritual and guarded people, it is an environment of raging hormones masked in lust and popularity.

But not unbearable. As a matter of a fact, I thoroughly enjoyed my high school experience. You may not be able to tell given my above summation, but I was not pessimistic towards it all. I just want to make it clear that it's not that I wasn't phased by the boy issue-- I saw and picked up on it all around me. I just didn't want a part in it myself. I didn't even necessarily want a part in the successful relationships I saw. This is where the "Sadie, you're crazy" or "I don't know how you do it" or the jokes about me not even liking men came into play.

I wish I could explain it better than I'm doing now. And my failure to be able to get my point across here is one of the reasons I have yet to have attempted a post on the subject. But, you see, in my own little way I do struggle with the boy question. Just not in the burning desire to have a boy kind of way.

The way I put it then was like this: "For me the point of dating is the find the man I'm going to marry and to have him take the initiative. Pining over boys in general seems stupid when he's going to have to show interest in me before anything happens, anyway. Plus, the chances of me even finding a guy worth having for the rest of my life now are pretty slim (I was in a class of 100, mind you). Most importantly, though, the point of marriage is to mirror as best as humans can the relationship between Christ and the Church. It's beyond any pessimism I might have and it is not that I think no guy deserves me. I'm just not there yet. It is not a boy or experience that will make me ready or complete. It is learning about what it is I'm supposed to one day be modeling. That is going to take time."

And, oh, is it taking time.

I guess my struggle is more with making myself ready, growing me up, than it is with finding Mr. Right. Mr. Perfect? I've forgotten about him. In observing the very real relationships around me, the endless examples-- Mom and Dad, Gregg and Juli, John and Alta-Lynn, Laurence and Yvette, Luke and Stephanie, grandparents, Tom and Kelly, Scott and Kellye-- I've come to the conclusion that there may be a Mr. Perfect-for-me but it will never be perfect. So that is not my expectation and the pressure is off. But I've also found that most of the guys busy pursuing ladies out there are trying to seem perfect. Showering girls, feeding into the high maintenance, wooing them with promises that it can be this good forever. I'm just not in the mood to be wooed, you know? At least not by the cheesy, sweet-talkin', surface level guys. Trust me, I do eagerly await the day the man shows up and sweeps me off of my feet. In the meantime, though, I'm not going to just go slipping in front of them all to see if they'll catch me and be that hero forever and always.

Also in the meantime, I wont live in denial of my singleness. I'll read the "how to be single and happy" as well as the "prep yourself for the right man" books proudly, not tucked up under pillows. I don't feel the need for self-help books because I don't think there's something necessarily wrong with me that makes me so unattractive. Oh, sure, there are unattractive things about me-- inside and out. But it's not a dating book I need to help that. And it's not my flirting skills or weight that are going to attract my man. Not the one I want, anyway.

The truth is that my old high school excuse for avoiding relationships is losing its legitimacy. I'm at a time in my life when the odds that I will find the person I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with are pretty much at their greatest and it's not the hugest window. Of course God works some couples together in high school and others in their thirties. My hope will never be in the odds, so I can't be particularly crushed if they don't work in my favor. So the odds against me argument is out of the window. And while I do still believe that marriage is a reflection of Christ's love for the church, the truth is that I should be getting better at understanding that love and knowing Him personally in my life. My age is no longer an excuse for lack of personal growth in Christ. At some point I am going to have to get there, and it would be nice if I made it happen during this window of the odds being in my favor.

But should I be seeking Christ for the purpose of finding love?

Stupid question. Of course I should. And I will find it. Guaranteed.

Seeking Christ for the purpose of finding a man?

Definitely not solely for that purpose. And the man is less guaranteed.

I'm reading a book right now entitled "What to Do Until Love Finds You." My thought is that He already has. And He's trying hard to captivate my attention. I wish I could say that it's worked so well and I'm nose-deep in scripture and that is why I'm not desperate for a man. But it's not even that. I guess I have what Michelle McKinney Hammond calls "the gift."

"After much discussion (I came to call them moan sessions) with my other Christian sisters, I was force to ponder another question: Was I the unsuspecting recipient of "the gift"? "The gift" was the capacity to walk through life being totally sublime and undisturbed by one's marital status."

So far that's me. Truly not disturbed in the least that I'm 19 and have yet to kiss a guy. Or date one. Or go on more that one date with one. Or be seriously attracted to one (that was my age and not living in hollywood or australia). I know it makes me weird. I don't know how long it will last. Will I be okay with being single forever? I'm not sure about that.

I envision children. I could take or leave the picket fence because I want the real. There could be a dog. I don't care what my man does or looks like. Is it weird that for right now I don't really even care if he exists?

Probably so. It's not that I don't want a boyfriend or husband. I get swept up in the love songs and dreams like the next girl. Promise I do. It would really be lovely, I'm sure. I also know it would be hard, which is why I don't want a relationship based on what I want.

I want a relationship based on what He wants. Which requires adamant pursuit of His will. And being satisfied in Him. My problem is not with giving up the desire for man in order to grow closer to Christ. It's being stuck smack dab in the middle of that spectrum and feeling like I'm not yet close to Christ. I know this:

The closer I get, the more I will long to find His qualities in a man.

Or the more content I will be in realizing those qualities in Jesus.

Either way I'm in the middle and I know which way I should be going. Really the only way to go if I do want a forever relationship with the perfect guy. So I'm not going to try to pressure myself to work harder to find my Mr. Right or call myself crazy because I don't itch to kiss a boy. But I am going to get better at being ready.

Just so you see that I am a cheesy girl, I'll have you know that I've started writing letters to the future love of my life. If it winds up just being Jesus, well, then, it's hardly a "just." And I'm lucky to have Him.

After all, He came to give me life. But mostly to give me love.

"Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desire of your heart." -Psalm 37:4

Medical-ness

In this family, we practice medicine (in this case, giving iv's). At the dinner table. Because you have to start somewhere. Em, where are you when we need you?

Arkie

I got big news on the 4th of July, delivered nonchalantly by my brother. "We want to give you our car" (for the record, I love that his pronouns have become increasingly plural ever since Stephanie. We. Our. Isn't it beautiful?)

I couldn't believe it. In the back of my mind it has been a possibility ever since they got the car, but it was an entirely different thing to hear the words. And to really think about having a personal mode of transportation in Vegas. Okay, FredVegas. Oh, the spontaneity! Hello, D.C.! I could wet my pants thinking of the Wacky Wednesday getaways and sweet escapes with my own wittle babies. I could have a job and thus have more to give. And have so much less frustration in that area-- I like gifts and cards and covering checks and feel so burdened when I can't do these things. Income would help tremendously. And delight of all delights, I could drive myself and others to church. I could go on off days to plan and meet. I could go to the store to get things for a lesson. Oh the places I could go!

What an answer to prayer wrapped up in seeming coincidence (and the frame of a really old Pontiac).

Our next door neighbors mom died this year on mother's day (may she rest in peace). In her will, she left her car to our neighbor, leaving them with an extra car. This car has been so well maintained and our neighbors have been the sole owners of it. It may be old, with a cracked windshield and a below average ability to condition the air, but it is a good car. So when our neighbors asked Luke if he wanted to buy it from them for 700 dollars? What a yes.

See, we have this game in the Smith family called Car Shuffle. Where you never know which car you'll end up driving on any given day. Could be the highlander. Probably not the Passat, that's Dad's car no matter what. I personally love to drive Steph's car. I would drive my car but it is, um, nonexistent (quote from the Ladies' man). Luke's has been nonexistent as well. Until he got the Sunfire. And then, a few weeks ago, Luke got a job at the Bryant Police Department, who will give him a take home squad car. What a yes.

Since Luke will have the police car, the Sunfire becomes a little less necessary in the Smith family parking lot. And a little more available for use in FredVegas. Luke and Stephanie had a lot of options to consider regarding the future of their 700 dollar baby. It is almost certainly more valuable than that, given that it runs. There are other members of their family that probably could have used the car. I am under no sort of illusion to think that this gift was a given.

But can you tell that I am so excited it was given to me? And on my favorite holiday, no less!

So excited and yet, it may not happen. I know, now that I've built up a post about how happy I am to once again be the owner of a car, I'm saying it probably wont work.

Because of a tree.

Yes, this weekend we had some rain. Not like drowsy, depressing rain. Like monsoon, fun, play in it, pouring rain. Powerful as all get out. As it so happened, one of the Bryant squad cars was parked under a tree that broke under the pressure. And fell on top of the car. So the department is down one car. And being new, Luke is far from first on the priority list of officers needing a car. Without it, Luke needs a way to get to work. That way will be his trusty 700 dollar baby. So the Sunfire is once again necessary for the Smith family parking lot. And I'm back to trusting God and others for transportation 1000 miles away.

And that's okay. With or without a car, the trusting God thing is how it's supposed to be.

Like I said, the car was never a given. And even if it were mine, it would never truly be mine anyway. Who knows? A tree could've fallen on Arkie tomorrow just as easily as that tree crushed the squad car last weekend. What are you going to do? I guess stuff is still just stuff.

Would all of the things I got excited about earlier still be nice? Oh yeah. They will continue to be prayers of mine. But for now, I'm still so happy that God provided for Luke's prayers the way He did. A perfectly good, running car for 700 dollars? I don't care who's driving it, that is amazing. And mine or not, it is a fun (mostly funny) car to drive.

So please enjoy my edition of "you might drive a 1998 Sunfire if..." based on my experience with "Arkie" (everything has a name. Mom came up with it after she pictured me pulling up to UMW in this thing, embodying all sorts of hick stereotypes. And what better hick and Arkansas-representing name than Arkie?)

You might drive a 1998 Sunfire if...

1. you look for a cassette tape at the store and realize they stopped making those things mainstream approximately the year your car was made (with only a radio and cassette player).

2. you spend a good ten minutes looking for the gas release lever by your steering wheel only to remember that your car was made in 1998 and they probably didn't even have that technology then. Sure enough, it is a manual gas tank door-thingy.

3. your car makes you feel old.

4. you almost have a wreck because you just want a little breeze in your car, but then you remember you have manual windows and you are not a coordinated enough person to drive and man that crank at the same time.

5. you set aside money for a tow truck in advance, for when the car inevitably dies on the roads of FredVegas (that's with the hopes that it could even there in the first place).

6. your brother gives it to you for free.

Honestly, most of the gift in the first place was the sentiment-- that Luke and Steph wanted me to have it. The car itself would be a blessing, but in this case it wasn't the blessing. I'm okay with that.

I could have made him very happy, but I know Luke and Arkie will be good together.

Like Batman and the Batmobile.

Like Dumb and Dumber and the Shaggin' Wagon.

John Travolta and Greased Lightning.

Like those little kids and Chitty chitty bang bang.

Starksky and his Gran Torino.

Doc Brown and the De Lorean.

Like herbie and ... well, no, herbie pretty much stole the show. As I'm sure Arkie will, now that I think about it...

And Crown the Hood

I promise. That is how I learned the song. And crown the hood with brotherhood from sea to shining sea. I would swear by it, but I usually don't. Plus, I don't have the greatest track record when it comes to correct lyrics ("later on, we'll perspire while we dream by the fire" is not actually the line from Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland, in case you were wondering). And a good amount of the time I got more focused on choreography than so much the music (the thing is that you're supposed to somehow coordinate the two... you're welcome for that helpful piece of advice. If you know me, you know coordination is just a lost cause).

I'm a little late on the 4th of July train. Okay, a lot late. But there was Alias to watch and Steph had to go back to school and Luke started a new job and I was partying at Emily's house and the Berry's house and going to the pool and working. For short we'll just call it life. Boy, it gets in the way sometimes. In the way of important stuff. Like blogging.

Speaking of important stuff... freedom (that, readers, is a transition sentence for professionals). I've learned a lot about freedom from my political science classes at school. Not close to everything there is to know and I'm no expert, but it's like what makes the world go 'round, freedom. It is a fundamental part of a states' policy. And if I've learned anything from every single one of my classes over the past couple of years, it's that somewhere along the way freedom has become highly politicized. Whether a state has it or does not, no matter how it defines freedom, every nation, regime and government is measured by it. Most of the time the pursuit of it causes a stir.

Ask 17th Century philosopher John Locke: "Good and evil, reward and punishment, are the only motives to a rational creature: these are the spur and reins whereby all mankind are set on work, and guided." Locke advocated a smaller government than the Leviathan, or Commonwealth, proposed by his counterpart Thomas Hobbes. His argument basically says that people are rational and capable of handling a good amount of responsibility for the common good of the state. Hobbes believed in a nasty, brute, and short state of nature where common men are predisposed to fight for resources. In order to protect his property, man would be willing to give up a good amount of individual freedom for the common, thus personal, good. He was a larger government theorist, if you will: "The social contract is binding only so long as the sovereign [governing body] has power to enforce it. Sovereignty may be vested in a person or an assembly, but it must be indivisible, not a division of powers between King and Parliament, church and state."

What's weird is that these men, while representing totally opposite points of view, with theories that align easily to liberal (hobbes) and conservative (locke) ideas, the modern two-party American system sets the two up with way more contrast than necessary. Neither is a better or stronger advocate of freedom, they just have fundamentally different ways of going about it. And that's okay, I think. So long as the end result is freedom. I'm not a huge fan of the big-budget, far-reaching government (or presidential administration). I'm sick of the words subsidy and bail out and socialized, if you want to know how I feel. But is it wrong? And if so, what am I going to do about it? What sort of stand am I going to make?

I don't like the idea of being taxed a larger percentage because I am the product of a larger bracket. I don't like the thought of being told what doctor I can see and when. Oh, ho, ho, I hate that the government's portion of my worked-my-tail-off-making-smoothies check is going to make some nice cars for the people less hurt by this here recession to buy whilst I drive around in my 1998 Sunfire (which you will so be hearing about later on). But you know, I don't think these things are what is wrong with the world. And I don't think any reversal of these policies will fix a gosh darn thing. I mean, I might like it more, but I know about 3,001 other people at the University of Mary Washington, 98% of my educators included, who would rather move to Canada (and cross the border back to the US for the re-established private health care system) than see a conservative victory. So would it really do a whole lot to right the wrongs of society if I got my way? (especially since it is a common view among fellow members of my party that the liberal folks are the wrong of society). Nope. It would simply make the liberals mad for 8 years. How's that for change. So here I am thinking, will it do me any good to be a mad conservative for 8 years? Nope.

I will, however, continue in my belief that the government shouldn't take upon itself what should be the business of its citizens-- and that is common wealth. I'll give it to the liberals, though, we the small government believers aren't really doing the best job sharing the wealth. Not like wealth, wealth, though that is the most often focused upon. We aren't doing really well sharing the love. Because if we were (doing well, that is), there really would be no need for all the dang government programs. They would be church run, school run, business run, community run programs. So I could go on being all mad at Obama that I don't have the opportunity to do something really great because he's taking all my money and giving it to car dealerships or I could be truly honest with myself and ask what really great plans do I actually have to put forth? What good am I trying to do that I can't anymore because of politics? And is it really an administration that is stopping me?

I have a God whose good knows no party or politics. And there is no administration that's going to stop him. So if it's stopping me, He'll move right on down to the next willing servant. Oh, Lord, please don't.

What's more, I live in a land where I have the freedom to worship this God. What a privilege I celebrate this holiday. What a responsibility it entails. Hobbes put a lot of faith in the citizens he spoke of-- capable of handling a good amount of responsibility for the common good of a state. Moreover, God put a lot of power in the faith of His children. I hope I'm growing to where He finds that faith in me...

"So I sought for a man among them who would make a wall, and stand in the gap before Me on behalf of the land, that I should not destroy it; but I found no one." -Ezekiel 22:30 (NKJV)

"Do you want to stand out? Then step down. Be a servant." -Matthew 23:11a (MSG)

In our sermon this weekend, Mark Evans said something I've heard before but with a political spin for the first time. He said it's not about getting God on my side, it's about getting on God's side. It's not about having God on the conservative side or the liberal side. It's learning how to use different theories and gifts to contribute to God's side. And it can't be, I'm finding, like a presumptuous "oh, yes, I'm all up on God's side." It is a holy, humbled place to be. See? "Then the LORD said to [Moses], 'Take your sandals off your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.'" -Acts 7:33

When I think of common wealth and big government, I automatically think of welfare and from there my mind drifts to the hood. Little five year old me didn't know about all the social problems and racial issues of the world and hood back in kindergarten, but she might have been on to something. Because she probably saw that the hood needed a little brotherhood. Not necessarily from within-- they've got the "you scratch my back, i'll scratch yours" philosophy pretty much down. But from the outside, the hood could use some brotherhood. Like from little white west Little Rockian me. From conservative little me. The kids who dread weekends and holidays for lack of meals away from school could use a little good from me. Not in a spirit of my superiority, but in brotherhood. Or, rather, in sonship.

"For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, 'Abba, Father.'" -Romans 8:15

Free to cry. Free to pray. Free to shout. Free to hear. Free to speak. Free to love. Free to live. Free to sing (albeit the wrong lyrics).

It's good to be an American. Can't deny it. Can't not appreciate the lives given to make it so.

But the freedom? It's not a political thing. It's not a state thing. It's a God thing.

"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." -John 8:36