Roots

That's the theme of Axis this weekend.

I should say the weekend formerly known as Axis, because in an attempt to be more inclusive, this is now technically the Collegiate Fall Retreat.

Axis. ah hm.

Thing is that I'm the Mary Wash representative to the BCM State Council, in charge of putting on this show. The council, that is. Not just me. My specific job for now is to provide some sort of entertainment for tomorrow night after worship and make sure people get great refreshments and feel welcome and all that. There will be other things, too, like sharing scripture and offering up some prayer, but I wont know the details of that until I get to the conference site tomorrow night.

I'm not going to lie, I'm a little nervous.

Not about the speaking, really. But I'm nervous that for right now I really don't know what to expect of this weekend and I don't know what is expected of me. Which stinks because I really would prefer to not not meet someone's expectations. My only job as of right now is to be there on time tomorrow, which is already looking iffy since I'm taking other people in my car and I don't want to keep them from having fun at dinner but I will be facing a time crunch tomorrow afternoon. Also, I'm supposed to be staying with a caravan when really, I might need to just go. I would leave earlier, but I have a crucial class tomorrow that I cannot miss, much to the dismay of my passengers.

All of these unknowns and feelings to be considered vs. a job to be done makes my heart beat a little faster tonight, to be honest. I guess you could say I'm anxious.

⁴Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! ⁵Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. ⁶Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.⁷And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

⁸Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

(Philippians 4:4-8)

Well, there it is. Guess I just don't have an excuse to rest in that anxiety tonight. (Can you rest in anxiety?) So this is, I suppose, the end of my wallowing. I know you're relieved. I am.

Tonight Katie Jones mentioned healthy doubt. The kind that keeps you questioning why you do certain things. Keeps you wondering if you do have everything under control. Keeps you asking if you have everything right. The kind that keeps begging you evaluate what you believe and what you're putting your faith in. The kind that keeps you from assuming you've got it all figured out and in line. The healthy kind.

I hold on to that doubt as I go into this weekend to truly evaluate my heart and what needs to change.

As for the anxiety? It's far less constructive than the doubt. And it is so anti what I know about this God I worship who will work this weekend for his glory. Not because of me, not even through me, but in spite of me. I hope He will work his glory in me. Not because I want attention but because I need a heart that glorifies God. I need a heart that doubts my ability to do this life on my own or have all of the right answers. I need a heart that doubts my own ability to be pleasant and patient all the time. I need a heart that doubts my own ability to meet expectations that are set for me. I need a heart that hurts in its own weakness. Here recently I feel like I've reached that point.

So more than anything this weekend I need God to be glorified by this broken heart. I need a heart that rejoices in His glory. And I need to not miss that for going about the weekend worried about details and times and other peoples' hearts.

I need some roots at a time when I feel like I'm drifting from an intimate relationship with the Creator of this fragile heart.

At a time when my wings are starting to get heavy and I miss my roots (the ones acting as a supply of spiritual nutrients and the ones back in Arkansas). At a time when I'm tired of flying solo and I just want to be grounded for a while.

Doubt to assess myself. Independence to get on stage. Vigor to have fun with my friends.

To quote Ross from friends, "I could use all of these things!"

But to have any of these I've got to first know the assurance I have that God is working through it all. First I've gotta have me some roots.

And the leaves won't be bad to look at, either.

Experience

I'm sitting in the laundry room.

It's hot. But that's how my clothes are getting dry, so I guess it's cool. Except for it's hot. Oh, never mind.

Dear future (potentially non-existent) child,

There will come a time in life when you will be carrying a large basket full of laundry down a flight of stairs and across a courtyard. It will most likely be night time and since you're in your pajamas, you will not feel like wearing your shoes (that an we might be in Arkansas so you probably don't have shoes... wow. I've been here too long when I make the anti-AR jokes myself). There will be many dark spots on the concrete. One might look like a roach and you could swear you saw it move in your periphery, though it is partially obstructed by your laundry basket. It may seem like the right decision to avoid that dark spot on the concrete to play it safe, just in case it is a roach. Be careful with this tactic, though, because it could be that your redirected foot, in attempting to miss the questionable (and extremely random) dark spot, will step on an actual roach. Do not feel ashamed to scream in the event that this happens. It is also completely acceptable to high tail it across the courtyard, pulling your knees up as you sprint. Even if they are ramming into the laundry basket. It doesn't look that stupid. I would know.

Love,

Your more experienced (though hopefully existent) mother.

Do you ever feel like you should pen notes full of miscellaneous treasures in order to create a legacy? I'm glad. Me too. Sometimes the wisdom is just soaring through my veins.

It's possible that it's just sugar in my arteries.

Clinging

It's 1:20 p.m. and I woke up 20 minutes ago. Haven't done that since high school.

It's really not so much out of laziness as so much this virus I've been fighting off since yesterday. I think it's a virus. I don't know, something with a fever. Which I woke up with again.

It was still dark in our apartment at 1, given the haziness of this day and that all of the lights were off. You know when you wake up and you're in this fog of "where do I even start with my day?"

That's about where I was. And even though I don't feel well I felt like I should be doing something, because doing nothing for 30 some-odd hours is probably what induced this fog. That, or the yuck illness itself. I'm unsure. The point is that I looked immediately to my computer when I woke up and realized then how much I've missed blogging.

Rather, how much I've missed having something to say.

And I say I just now realized it this morning, but the truth is that I've missed it for a week now. I couldn't this time last week because I had a really big test on monday and then a really big presentation on tuesday and quizzes in every other class interspersed in those two days. And then I got through those assignments as best I could and got so pumped for free time. Wrong.

Every single night has gone so much differently than how I've planned. Mostly involving me not getting the work I need to do done. Not just school work. But this work. The work I need to put into planning out Axis. The work I need to put into writing/calling friends. I don't really feel the lack of having done these things during the day. Matter of a fact, the days have been delightful. I've gone to a U.S.-Afghan relations seminar, played flag football, had dinner at Petersos, taken delightful naps at La Petit Maison Blanche (twice!), bought new tentis shoes and a raincoat, had two study dates go "wrong" and rather become sweet friend time with Big D, gone kickboxing, watched tv with fun company, and had really good phone calls home to catch up with my family. So now you know that I don't dislike my life.

Until I get in bed at 2 a.m., sometimes for no one else's fault but my own, and realize that I've done nothing to foster my own spiritual growth. I don't like how that sounds, but it's really the only way to put it. Which is why its been hard to have multiple conversations about faith this week, given that I've not been active with mine. Oh, I've been active. And I have faith in Jesus Christ. I know my tendency to feel so stuck when, in all of my activity, I don't stop to seek God out. Then I feel so guilty that I haven't because I know that He actively seeks me. Sought me.

It's hard to feel that in the rush. And the more I don't give God the time of day, the more stubborn I get. It's pride that says, "why would He want me now?" Now that I've blown Him off for a week.

This morning as I stood up from the bed, I grabbed my computer and walked as if on auto pilot out to my balcony (I then proceeded to go back in to grab a diet coke, but that doesn't sound as spiritual and purposeful ;) especially given that my reason for doing so was to wash out this nasty morning breath. What's that you say? Brush your teeth? You are so unoriginal!). So here I sit, every now and then stopping to feel the wind and revel in the falling of the leaves. It's almost like a cove back here and the drifting leaves are almost magical. Almost as if the Creator of this small cove was trying to say "Sadie, I do want you now."

Did He want me to take the time Wednesday night or Thursday? Probably. And honestly, I did too. I wish I had great excuses as to why I didn't. But mostly as I sit in this calm, in the midst of the chaotic rush of leaves, I can only be glad I'm here now. I cling to that God is around, too. Not just in this awesome spectacle of nature, but for me.

I feel like I've led myself to believe that being busy is at odds with knowing Christ. And, to an extent, I see where I'm coming from there. Being too busy to get to know Him is not cool. You hear words of advice to stop and smell the roses or to go sit still in God's creation. I get this view of nature as so still and calm and in my moments of chaos I aspire to that image.

But my current view of nature, from this balcony, is bustling. Crackling. Whistling. It is so not still. It's moving. The season is changing. If this activity was not happening, the trees and leaves would be in this season forever. And not only is that not physically possible, it's just not preferable.

Could it be the same for us? Sometimes I feel jolted by the movement around me. I cling to my branch and wish the winds would pass me by. And as much as this season becomes increasingly frustrating, as my grip on it is loosened and loosened, I hold on as tightly as I know how because it is what I know. I stay put in the name of being still. "Be still and know that I am God" He says. But what if knowing He is God means letting go? I guess I assume most times that God is the tree, safe and still. That when I feel tossed by my schedule, I've lost hold of my tree, my God. Is it so impossible for God to be in the chaos, too? Is it too far-fetched to believe that He's in the middle of that, too? Does being busy have to be at odds with growing closer to God? Only when I make it that way. Otherwise, if I was really paying attention, I might see that it's God, smack in the middle of the bustling winds, carrying me safely to the ground. Kicking off a new season. If such activity was not happening, I'd be in this season forever. And not only is that not spiritually possible, it's not preferable.

So maybe in the midst of my crazy week, I should stop feeling so defeated by the fact that I'm not meeting with God in the ways I normally do, the places I expect Him to be, and decide, instead, to meet Him where I am, in whatever way He so desires, "normal" to me or not. Of course, it still requires me making time for Him. But perhaps I should cling less to the safe and known and more to the promise that He's carrying me through the new and unanticipated. To a new and beautiful season.

I got to thinking of the flaws in this impromptu analogy. The major one being that, sure they're pretty and all, but these leaves are dead. They aren't going on to a new season, they're done for. But isn't it God who is best at bringing beauty from death. Aren't Christians called to put themselves to death daily? Yes, sadly, if left to my own mechanisms, we'd all look like a bunch of decaying leaves in a parking lot. But it is God who's bringing in the new season, He's the one actively finding a place for us in His picture. Not the other way around. So maybe the dead leaves thing is not so much a flaw in the analogy, after all.

Maybe it's not a busy schedule but a busy mind that's plaguing me lately. Either way, I'm clinging to the knowledge that God has, can and will bring beauty from the chaos.

Let me tell you something that is not beautiful right now. My hair. And my breath. So I'm off to take care of that. And probably to take a naproxen.

You Know What I Like About You?

the quote should end like this: "e'rything."

But I don't want to sugarcoat it.

Let's face it, I don't like everything about Emily. Or she, me.

Like the other night (when she was here... how cool is that?) I said something along the lines of "you know what song really bugs Emily?" and proceeded to play it.

Emily's comedic response gives pretty accurate insight into our history. "See, this is why we had issues growing up. 'What would annoy Emily most? I know, I'll do that thing!'"

Such was (and apparently still is a little bit) our life.

Similarly, when I picked Emily up around 5 last Monday she asked "what are we doing for dinner?"

As I drove in a direction I was not completely confident about I responded, "something with Noelle. She's going to call me to tell me where she is and then we'll make a plan."

Emily looks at me with such perplexity. "You think we should do that soon?"

It's not like we were driving aimlessly. But 'cept for we kind of were. Emily made gestures in front of her face to indicate some sort of inner calming. "Whooo, we are not the same. You do not think like I do." It was more a reminder for herself than a reprimand of me. I appreciate that.

So I won't sugarcoat it.

Mostly because I think what we do have is pretty sweet sans the pretty pink frosting. Besides, what I like about her will forever outweigh what I don't.

I can't lie, though, what I don't like didn't really ever show up last week. It was just so much fun. Good, soul deep fun. The kind that, for me, is specific to our sisterhood. I mean I have fun in a lot of different ways with a lot of different people.

At my apartment with friends.

At Caribou with friends.

At the apartment with friends (again).

At La Petite Maison Blanche

At the skating rink.

But there is something about having Emily here that enhances each of these things. Watch:

Something about being us. Something about getting to be me. In a way that I'm not without her. In a way that bonds us.

Even if it's just on a rainy day watching Felicity. It may not seem groundbreaking, but it means so much to me that she'd fly 1000 miles to do so with me.

To buy me school paraphernalia.

To buy me dinner.

To get to know my friends.

To look up maps of my current little town.

To do work with me.

To care about me.

I like that about her. It's not all that I like, and I may not like every thing. But sometimes having her for a sister just means e'rything to me.

Not just because she cares about me. But because she is so caring.

It makes her an excellent friend. Daughter. Student. Doctor-to-be. Worshipper. And for me, Sister.

That is what I like about her.

Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. If the foot should say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body," it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. And if the ear should say, "Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body," it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body.

- I Corinthians 12:14-20

It is a pleasure to call you flesh and blood, baby!

Calgary

I'm in the olympic skating spirit.

A, because Sao Paulo was just chosen last week as the site for the 2016 summer olympics.

B, because my awesome friend Gillian gave me her size 9 figure skates last week.

A good week for the olympics and for skating, don't ya think? I mean, now that I'm back on ice and all.

I believe we last left off, in our olympic pre-game review, at 1988 (by "believe" I mean "know" because I've been pumped ever since about getting to this pair).

The games were held in Calgary, Canada. Side note (and/or useless piece of information): Calgary put in a bid to host the 2010 Olympics, but Vancouver won the bid as the nation's representative and, ultimately as the international host. Now you know.

There's a big, long story with Gordeeva and Grinkov that is the reason I like them so (because I do so love a good biography), but in 1988 they were just two russian kids. This was their first olympic try, where everyone expected them to simply put their feet in and test the waters. Never mind that they were the two time world champions (86 and 87) at the time.

She was 16, barely five feet tall and 90 pounds.

He turned 21 during the olympic festivities, stood at five feet, ten inches tall and weighed 160 pounds.

Ekaterina attributes their cohesion to an accident that happened in mid-November before the February olympics. During a training session, practicing a star lift, Sergei tripped on a rut in the ice and dropped Ekaterina, leading to a major concussion and six days in the hospital for her. She says, "After getting out of the hospital, it was another week before I was allowed on the ice, and Sergei continued to visit me at home every day. When, at last, I could skate again, I immediately noticed a change in the way he was holding me. He was holding me tighter, as if he didn't want to give me a chance to touch the ice. It was like he grew up during this period when we didn't skate. I felt more secure. Something had happened in those two weeks, and even I -- so focused on skating, so serious about training and life -- realized that his thoughts for me had changed. Before we had been like two skaters. After that, we were a pair."

Apparently.

Together, still with a sibling sort of relationship and some crazy russian training, they were this tiny powerhouse. At Calgary they skated what is considered to be one of the cleanest long programs of Olympic history.

That night, Ekaterina writes in her book, "Elena and Oleg, who won the silver medal, went out with Sergei, leaving me behind. I was left to enjoy my ice cream by myself, but as it turned out, even that fell through. After waiting all those days, when I went to the game room to create a fabulous sundae, I found they had closed the soda fountain for good (she had been looking forward to this since they got to the olympic site, but wouldn't have the sweets before their performances). I was so angry that I went to the regular cafeteria and took three bowl

s of ice cream, but it wasn't the same. It's mind boggling that I should have been bored after winning an Olympic gold medal. But understandable, too, since I'd been left behind and had no one with whom I could share my success."

"What drives me crazy now, when I look back on Calgary, is that I don't remember Sergei from out first Olympics at all. I can't even picture him there, probably because I was so wrapped up in the competition I didn't even look at him. I don't remember if we took a walk together before skating our free program, which we usually did. Or, if we did, where we walked. Or what, if anything, we talked about. I just don't remember and it makes me angry at myself."

Frustration over not having fully soaked up the experience would bring the couple back some years later (get excited). Not before some significant changes would happen in their lives. But that's a story for 1994.

As for 2010, here are some hopefuls.

Thing is, they better hope good.

Bryce Davison and Jessica Dube ranked 7th this year at the world championships, which isn't where you like to be going into an olympic year, I would imagine. Still, they are getting stronger and have a good chance of representing Canada in Vancouver, given that they did win the gold at the canadian championships this year.

This video is from last years (2008) World Championships, where they won the bronze medal.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWD2L1qRSLo

(you have to copy and paste this into the browser bar)

And because everyone loves a good skating accident (from which people recover, of course), this is a video from the 2007 Four Continents Championships when Bryce ran into Jessica during their side by side camel spins.

And finally, because everyone loves a good gala performance probably more than they love a good accident, here is the gala following Dube and Davison's gold at this years canadian championships.

I don't even know why I said finally earlier because I have yet to answer the all important question: are they or aren't they a couple? After some intense google research the answer is that I can't even know. There's nothing saying specifically that they aren't, and there are a few articles that hint at a relationship. Guess we'll find out come olympic season. Wish them luck.

Did you miss the first two installations of our Olympic pre-game? Here you go!

1980

1984

Worth the Wait

So I drove 320 miles (or roughly 5 hours) to Mt. Airy, North Carolina this weekend.

You know, for 24 hours.

Because they are just worth it.

I mean, it's almost even worth the drive for the drive.

But 'cept you get there and realize that no, no this is what makes the drive worth it.

For years we prayed and prayed for one baby.

Consider those prayers answered.

In ways far greater than we could have imagined.

And we even imagined it pretty great.

As Yvette sat little 8th grade me down and casually, yet sincerely told me to never change, I fervently prayed that her life would-- that God would give her a baby. 

The answer for a long time was "no."

Why? I can't even know. Sometimes that's just God's answer. It is an answer. Frustrating and hurtful and painful as it may be, it is an answer. The Townsends are a good example of that for me.

But they are also an example of when "no" is not the final answer.

The woman whose tears poured on Mother's day, whose arms ached of emptiness, now celebrates with three children (with never enough arms).

And they were worth the wait.

Could it be that this same principle might apply to other situations in life?

God, I need a job. No.

God, I need a car. No.

God, I need a spouse. No.

God, I need my health. No.

What then? How frustrating are these answers?

But aren't they answers? And isn't there a good chance that they are for now...

If this is what lay ahead of the blood, sweat and tears of Laurence and Yvette's pleading with the Lord, what answers await us? Will it always be "no?"

Possibly.

But maybe, just maybe, there is a "yes" ahead.

Either way, in Jesus we have hope. It may not be in the bright faces of three blue eyed children, but ultimately there is hope. In Karthia we've been studying Hebrews and this past week we talked about having the gift of working on God's timeline. Not the fragile span of time we live on this Earth.

So I don't get what I want. Do I have what I need? Wish I acted like it all the time. Because there is something so sweet about receiving what you want after you've learned what you really need.

"But Christ is faithful as a son over God's house. And we are his house, if we hold on to our courage and the hope of which we boast" (Hebrews 3:6).

That sweetness?

It is worth holding out hope for.

And that hope?

Could be realized on my timeline...

...or on God's.

Or?

Both.

But that hope will be realized.

And it will be worth the wait.