The Dent & Chip Room

A delicate teacup with a sliver or ceramic missing after being carelessly dropped, sits on a shelf where’s it’s been haphazardly propped. Next to it rests a lamp that had once brightly blazed, but now solemnly produces only darkness after failing to be praised.  A mahogany table leans precariously on merely three legs, one pillar lost with a resounding retort, following too much pressure placed on its once-believed indestructible supports. And finally, a dusty old armchair hides in the corner, not having been misused but merely ignored, and it’s once bright and cheery pattern appears faded and worn. Each is convinced it belongs, tucked away in the dent-and-chip room as if nothing is wrong.

And then a figure materializes in the door, meandering by without preconceived notions, instead just waiting to find one to adore. The teacup trembles with anxiety, fearing another insensitive touch, while the lamp apathetically emits a distinct lack of light, burnt out from caring too much. The table suspiciously follows the new figure’s form, convinced none have the ability to bring about any real reform. Meanwhile, the chair dejectedly hides in a nook, knowing attention will never be directed towards her lackluster looks. The “As-Is” sign overhead fails to persuade, that those in the room will ever be remade. They all fully believe clearance is deserved, because who would pay full price for something not wholly preserved?

And then the unthinkable happens, as the creaky wheels of a shopping cart roll by, and each item is lovingly placed in the basket, although they can’t help but think, “God knows why.” Missing pieces, broken features, and damaged appearances have all led to a lost confidence in their own usefulness. Yet he’d picked up the weary and the confused, saving each item “As-Is” and ignoring the bruise. Awestruck wonder at the thought of your love, as you took us from the grave and lifted us above.

The teacup now gleams on a different top shelf, proudly showing off a chipped rim as a symbol of compassion she was unable to give herself. The lamp now twinkles in bright success, displaying a type of luminescence that it had previously been unable to express. The table stands firm having been carefully rebuilt, with supports that assure it will never again tilt. And the armchair, once believed to be entirely unworthy of affections, now revels in the warmth supplied by an occupant whose acceptance never lessons. 

We were chosen "as-is," pulled from the darkness of our own and of others making. Perfection is unattainable but also unnecessary. He has saved the unrighteous and lost, freely extending a love that is unfathomable and cannot be earned, inspiring a devotion and awe towards a God of such might. 

And as an echo, to find love that accepts “as-is” in a world filled with imperfection is a gift beyond imaging. If He gives us each other to glimpse the overwhelming love he himself extends, how humbling is it to know you can act as his representative, just as Christ acted for us? We can show his love, and be shown it in return, here on a fallen earth, and that is a realization that makes it impossible to not be filled with wonder. 

-Inspired by a special boyfriend of mine who consistently shows Christ's love.   

East Coast Explorations - Part 4 - The End

Day  9 - 10.

Next stop: Gettysburg. Best place the start? Why, the visitors center of course. My iPhone leads us there in no time flat. Only it’s an abandoned building. Search it again. Three wrong turns. Update search. More backtracking. Recalculating. Finally, the visitor’s center looms ahead, taunting us with its accessibility.  We run in, grab a CD and map, plug it in and head out to the battlefields. As our car slowly meanders through the fields the narrator simultaneously describes the history, tragedies, and victories of the sights. It’s hard to connect the gorgeous, rolling green fields and hills with a quiet, peaceful aura to the bloody, heart-wrenching scenes we know took place more than 100 years ago. The place of our countries greatest division, where brother fought brother, comes to life in a subduing realization of the horrors of war. We finish the tour and leave the sunlit beauty of historic Gettysburg and head towards the next Pennsylvanian experience: Amish territory. Or so we thought. Apparently Lancaster’s visitor’s center is not in fact open on Memorial Day. Who would have thought? And none us have the foggiest idea of what roads lead to the heart of Amish country. Just a small 30 mile detour, but Hershey calls, and the sweet smells of chocolate city bury our unrest. Hersey, Pennsylvania welcomes us with lamplights masquerading as kisses and a Fuddruckers next to the hotel.  Ah the wonderful world of Fuddruckers burgers. We will visit this place again soon. As in the next night…Our hotel is in an adorable setting, all tree-d in and hushed, seemingly ignorant, or maybe just defiant, of the theme park nearly next door. While the hotel is the best one we’ve encountered yet, hesitant thievery seems to be a problem, as my flip flops get stolen only to be returned a few hours later.

Gettysburg, PA

Day 11.

A leisurely drive into Lititz fills our morning, where we not only discover America's First Pretzel Bakery, but get down and dirty in dough in order to be bequeathed an official “pretzel maker” certification. The Moravian influenced town harkens back vague knowledge of ancestors from that heritage, and a drive through the countryside brings the past front and center as horse and buggies amble down the road and bonnets and straw hats become mainstream. Amish peanut butter, freshly made hot pretzels and lemonade, and shoe fly pie mark the culinary highlights of the day.

Now to make a 180, and find some adrenalin because the historical portion of our trip is at an end, and the theme park is waiting. Dad rides a monster coaster with us only to be sick afterwards and swear off of such contraptions. Ben, however, is hooked. The rest of the day is spent at Hershey Park, and after sweltering heat, blisters on feet, roller coasters, water rides, chafing shorts, squishy flip flops, and Ben obsessively riding the same coaster 3 times in a row,  Dad and I decide we are too hot and hungry to go on. Thunderstorms stop all rides and cancel shows for an hour, allowing us time to breathe. Dinner involves the repeat trip to Fuddruckers where we get almost exactly the same things as before. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Day 12.

The last day has come, and the feelings of euphoria towards our experiences mix with homesickness and exhaustion. We drive towards Baltimore to catch our flight out and stop at a restaurant on the way there. Yeah you guessed it: Chick-fil-a.  Mom however, is unable to partake in the feast, as she has contracted a case of the spews and is making retching noises due to overactive pain meds for a sore tooth. Her mouth is literally swollen to the point where it appears she decided suck on a golf-ball-sized jawbreaker.

The last lag of our journeys begins, as we arrive at the airport and suffer through a somewhat painful flight home involving a small plane, occasional turbulence, and too many hours. SeaTac comes into view around 10pm (1pm our time) and another long ride home beckons, this time in a car. Our beloved driveway comes into view around 1:30am. And after an enthusiastic greeting from the pair of loving golden retrievers,  we all scatter to our owns beds to dream of the vacation that we’ll never forget.

East Coast Explorations - Part 3 - PA/DC

Day 6

Pool Time in Jersey 

Day 6 dawns with New Jersey on the itinerary. We pull into our reserved, newly built, Super 8 (a smashing good deal at $58 a night) only to discover the entire hotel has been booked with a rowing team. I know, that’s a whole lot rowers. God’s hand shows up again however as we’re upgraded to the Aloft next door, with a pool, gym, squishy elevator floors, soft beds, and an excessive amount of TV channels. We find a Boston’s Market, which are extinct back home, so after a great family sized meal, stuffed to satisfaction, we drive down into Philadelphia (only 20 min away) for a first look. Sights include signs for Miss Saigon, a favorite musical of mine that made me want to leap out of the car and dump any amount of money to snag a ticket. Alas, Claude-Michel Schönberg will remain a fantasy, and after an enlightening first look at the “city of brotherly love,” we circle back to the hotel for some much needed down-time.

Day 7.

A week has passed, but our sense of exploration could still rival that of Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, thus we decide to rise at dawn, well 7:30. Ish. This proves to be a fabulous decision as we encounter little traffic on the way into the heart of Philadelphia. Once parking is located, which we’ve since discovered is no easy task in these bustling metropolises, we immediately start to check off a substantial number of historic sights: Independence Hall, the Liberty Bell, Betsy Ross house, an impressive Masonic lodge, the United States Mint, the Franklin Institute, and of course some classic Philly cheese steaks from none other than famed eatery Geno’s Steaks. It’s worth noting that, although the plethora of patriotic and historic sites does much to enthrall and compel the mind, nothing could detract from the sweltering east coast heat and stifling humidity. Every second waiting in line was an acute form of torture for a family of Pacific Northwest origins. In regards to aforementioned origins, we also discovered that it’s apparently very hard to understand where exactly we come from. A tour guide politely inquired to our hometown location, and when we explained the Vancouver NOT in Canada, he still can’t get it into his head that we’re not Stanley Cup fans. Was like talking to a wall.

Baltimore, MD 

We wrap up the visit snagging a few souvenirs and then head out for Maryland. On the way to New Carrolton, we stop in Baltimore and drive over to Charm City Cakes where Ben sees Ben in the window. Sort of a twilight zone, inception-type moment I’m sure. And since we couldn’t actually eat any cakes at Duff’s place of business we settle for pies at another famous location: Dangerously Delicious Pies. Three slices later, including a special mini one just for me they’re not supposed to sell to anyone, and we’re feeling high on the hog as we make out way into New Carrolton to our hotel. Dinner time has arrived at this point, so we settle for a less luxurious stop at Wendy’s, where we are most definitely of ethnic minority. In fact, one kid so kindly pointed out that he was only letting Ben in because he was white. Whatever that means…Anyway we plan on driving into DC for our now modus operandi of driving the city the night before we plan to explore it. However, severe thunderstorm warnings and lightening scare the living daylights out of Kate, prompting hysterical screaming and crying, have us back at the hotel for the rest of the night.

Day 8.

Day 8 brings Washington D.C, and the day bodes well as we miraculously find parking near the Capitol. Free parking no less. By this time, the sun has decided it’s going to come out swinging, and we all unintentionally reduce our walking speed by a significant amount due to an overwhelming melting sensation. First on the agenda: Library of Congress. I am beyond excited to glimpse Gershwin’s piano, and can just imagine him sitting there busting out Rhapsody in Blue in the early 20th century. Where’s a time machine when you need one? Other notable sights: the Gutenberg bible, Jefferson’s library, and endless maps, photos, tributes, books, and stories. A guided tour of the Capitol Building follows, where we all get our own headphones in order to hear our charmingly witty tour guide who shares details about the dozens of statues in and around the area. One is surprisingly of a woman from Vancouver, WA, who started one of the first hospitals. A little slice of home represented in the Nation’s capital. We finish the tour and walk (or drag ourselves) over to the botanical gardens where Nathan is in heaven. The national mall walk keeps up occupied for a majority of the day; the Air and Space museum, the National Gallery of Art, Museum of Natural History and the National Archives, where Ben beeps going through security, again. He’s a menace to society that kid. While there we glimpse the original Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights, and the Constitution. A rest by the fountain in the garden of sculptures while Dad and Ben graciously walk back to the car to come pick us up marks the end of the walking portion of the day.

Once we procured our wheels and air conditioned interior, we head over to the Lincoln Memorial and Georgetown Cupcakes. Unfortunately, the cupcake line is massive so we plug in chick-fil-a into my iPhone for a less sweet treat. However, Steve Job’s generally genius creation fails to tell us this is a campus location so when we arrive our mutual lack of student status bars the way. But that’s okay, let’s just search for another one. Lo and behold there’s one 10-15 min away! We finally arrive after battling traffic and WTF it’s also a campus location. Entirely fed up at this point, we decide to drive out of D.C and go to the one by our hotel. Driving out and the chick-fil-a pops up on my iPhone that is supposedly the one by our hotel. We’re driving, following the directions, getting closer and closer only to realize: IT’S ALSO A COLLEGE CAMPUS LOCATION.  *%&!$^@! Turn around again. I give up and basically chuck the stupid iphone, having lost complete faith in its navigational abilities. Luckily, once we do find a chick-fil-a, it is an amazing chicken experience - mostly worth the trauma. Dad tries to pay with his room card. Really just indicative of the whole 

situation... 

Library of Congress

The Museum of Natural History proves Evolution true...

East Coast Explorations - Part 2 - Boston

Day 4-5. 

We rise bright and early in order to keep driving up to Boston, with a pit stop on the way in a small town in Rhode Island for lunch and gas refill. While there, the Safeway checker must have noticed our west coast accents as she asked us where we were visiting from; a reply of “Washington State” immediately brought the words “Oh Apples!” from her mouth. We continued towards Boston, only taking approximately 4 wrong turns until we finally made it to the downtown area, and providentially found parking right near Paul Revere’s house. The skies were gorgeous, offering sunlight and warmth in a strong contraction to our New York experience. First day discoveries include: Paul Revere’s house, the Old North Church, Faneuil Hall, Quincy market, and the fresh salty air floating in from the wharf where nautical modes of transportation sat anchored. We stuffed ourselves with some great New England fare, including clam chowder, pizza, Boston cream pie, and shrimp pasta. Once back in the car, we drove down to see a famous old ship from revolutionary times, when suddenly Kate decides lunch is better out than in and Mom would be the perfect recipient for regurgitated clam chowder. Needless to say, the car smells wonderful. 

By this time, not only is Kate sick, but Nathan is constantly coughing like an annoying maniac setting everyone on the edge of sanity. Arrival at the hotel doesn’t help the situation much, seeing as it’s just about the nastiest excuse for a place of lodging one could find. And this isn’t a cheap $50 Super 8. No. This is supposedly a nice, over $100 a night, charming and welcoming inn, at least according to the Priceline Negotiator. William Shatner? I'd like a word. Non-smoking? I do believe their definition differs from ours on that count, as it wouldn’t have been unwarranted for us all to don face masks in an attempt to breathe, even if it would have put the locals on edge with thoughts of Bird Flu flitting through their minds. To top it off, the first night there Mom hears domestic disputes going on in the next room, yelling and sounds of punching wafting through the wall, enough that we almost called the cops but the sounds ceased and a semblance of peace returned.

Next morning, we headed back into Boston where we finished taking in the sights found on the historic Freedom Trail and the New England Aquarium. After dinner and a short rest, we drive into historic downtown Lexington, the site of the first shot of the American Revolutionary War. You’d be hard pressed to find a little town as perfect as that one. Especially when visiting at dusk and the statues of Minute Men are warmly glowing from the lights strategically placed at the base in order to illuminate some of our first American heroes. 

A drive around Harvard marks the end of our inhabitance of Boston, Massachusetts, and Philadelphia looms on the horizon...

East Coast Explorations - Part 1 - New York

In May 2011, a small windfall from the discovery of two dead aunts we didn't know existed and no will dictating the distribution of funds, left us with the means to take a trip. The east coast immediately called, and we booked our tickets to cross the entire United States. I've discovered that when travelling, it is entirely worth writing down every little event, nuisance, or hilarity for later reminiscence. So, for this blog series, I've decided to gather my jumble of notes from the trip and organize them into a coherent story as a way to better remember our experiences. And as a travel enthusiastic, there's nothing better than looking back and awakening the sense of wanderlust all over again.

Day 1:

Seats are buckled, trays are up, engines are running, and everything is ready for takeoff. That is everything but the kid sitting directly behind us. As the plane ascends, the screaming little boy’s voice simultaneously soars in volume. “Mommy!” was squealed an indiscriminate number of times, with an increase in pitch and volume every blasted minute. Heads turned and eyes rolled until the child finally, shut up. Luckily, San Francisco sourdough and, later, pizza in the Baltimore hotel, helped wipe clean the exasperation of the day and get us ready for our 12 day adventure on the east coast...

Day 2:

We wake up only to discover the parentals have vanished from the room. Reason said they should have been back with the rental car by now, so a quick phone call determines that they have the car but are now haphazardly driving around, lost, and as we speak, their phone dies. Ah the pitfalls of parents and technology, you let them out of your sight for a few seconds and all hell breaks loose. Luckily, they eventually show up with the car and we cram in the backseat like clowns in a mini cooper, pointed north towards the great NYC. We drive through Maryland and New Jersey until finally hitting the Lincoln Tunnel, taking us directly into downtown Manhattan. Cost of tolls getting there: $35. Cost of seeing the New York Times building and Times Square as we emerge: priceless.

After exiting  the Lincoln Tunnel, we stumbled on a parking garage mere blocks from Times Square, get out, fix everyone’s shoes (inserts, band aids and other podiatry paraphernalia) and set out. Stomachs immediately call for lunch, and we find a nearby Grey’s papayas where hotdogs, mango and papaya drinks are ravenously consumed. After exploring an inordinate amount of tourist locations, we found ourselves limping along 5th avenue after 5 miles of walking, when a obviously wealthy elderly woman stops us with a twinkle in her eye and a look of adulation on her face: "You're children are so pretty!" she exclaims, focusing on Nathan and Kate. " Theyse skin, ees so perfect!" My best guess is she was from Sweden, emigrated here in the 1920's, and was now excited to find other fellow Scandinavian ancestral human beings. But who knows. 

Also worth noting, Dad swiped his Metro card on the wrong side and gets stuck on the outside not once, but a whopping total of 4 times during the trip, prompting us to compassionately laugh our faces off as he stands there, us securely on the right side of the gate, him scanning the area to make sure it's clear of security before nimbly leaping the barrier like a graceful gazelle. Once safely through, we made our way out to Queens where a snazzy hotel in a not-so-snazzy location provided respite so we could all find ourselves ready to venture back into the Big Apple the following morning...

Day 3.

With the sun hidden behind a cluster of grey clouds, we were ready for the third day of our Manhattan adventures, starting with an uneasy walk to Queensboro Station. Deserted streets in the early morning with a hotel next to low-income government housing doesn’t make one 100% comfortable wandering Queens looking for the metro, but I digress. Once we found the station, we joined the regulars on their morning commute into the city, and disembarked near the Staten Island Ferry. While waiting for the magic hour boarding time, a small, unassuming door beckoned our empty stomachs with compelling promotional signs. This spot would turn out to be the best café in the history of our trip. So that’s what a New York style deli is like. That’s it, we’re moving. After spending an inane amount of time trying to decide on what exactly to eat, choices finally included the greatest pesto chicken sandwich ever eaten and decadent chocolate cheesecake. Lunch conversations involved chatting with a traffic cop and two Brits visiting from London (I had to fight down the urge to flash my tardis shirt at them…)

And now it was time for the free Staten Island ferry in order to see the beautiful skyline. Conversations aboard the ferry however, weren’t quite as glamorous. Favorite line? “I want to run around my house buck-ass naked but I can’t cuz there’s effing people there!”  After the entertaining ferry ride, we walked up to the financial district, which was eerily empty and quite. Heard stereotypical construction workers arguing on the street corner. Gawked at Grand Central Station and Central Park. 

On the way back to our hotel, a little kid and his dad on four wheelers come screeching down the sidewalk, in the middle of Long Island city without a hint of warning. Either they were joy-riding or fleeing from the mob. Not sure which. We then piled in the car and headed out towards Connecticut, encountering major traffic on the way. Cars were literally speeding backwards on the freeway in order to get out of the traffic. Traffic laws must be like the pirate code; more of guidelines than actual rules. We finally made it to Milford, CT, which was a little sketch, and  our hotel was bare bones minimum. As in not even a mini, ineffective blow dryer built into the wall. A late night stop at taco bell where Bens’ refried beans were solid ended the day in a fitting manner... 

Brothers and Birthdays

All right, tomorrow is August 16^th. On that same date 18 years ago I received a partner in crime, a best friend, a springboard, an ally, and a ridiculous amount of inside jokes that defy explanation. In other words, I got my brother. To have your little brother be turning 18 is both exciting and terrifying. On one hand, it means I’m an old lady. It seems like just yesterday I was the one turning 18. But now that it’s my four-years-younger bro means I’m officially on the decline. Kidding, kidding. But still, where does the time go?  This momentous date also means that my baby brother, the one my friends and I would convince to play “waiter” with us just to exploit his services, isn’t a kid anymore. He’s gone and grown up on me. Batman shooters, daring and espionage-like activities involving horse halters and the old lady next door, blanket rides, couch cushion diving from terrific bunk-bed heights; life was pretty much a party. But somewhere along the way, I blinked, and hot-wheels and Lego’s got traded in for the real thing. Now he’s obsessed with actual cars.  And that tendency to not follow the instructions on how to build the Star Wars Lego, which my 12 year old self found ridiculously cocky, has blossomed into a innovated and creative spirit that can build and “herb-job” just about anything.  

He’s the polar opposite of me and also an intrinsic part of me. So Ben, I want you to know that I am so proud of the man you are becoming. I want you to know that you really are one of my best friends, and always will be. I know God has such a plan for you, and I can’t wait to see Him use you as you continue to grow, both in body and in spirit. I’m betting you’re not going to get that much taller though, but don’t sweat it. Height is over-rated. You bring out and know a part of me that no one else does, and being around you has been, 9 times out 10, some of the best times I’ve ever had. So below I’ve provided a summary of WHY I’m so glad we’re related, as the first part of your birthday present (even though you made me buy my own birthday present last year. And no, you will never live that down):

• Hours spent in my room working on project “Minty Hippo” (I feel like it’s also worth mentioning how awesome it is that we called it minty hippo. He’s the Master of Disguise!)
• Your amazing craft skills: laughing so hard that you couldn’t cut a straight line and thus I couldn’t trust you with scissors
• Sharing pretty much every internet discovery or movie – no matter how ridiculous. Laughing hysterically just isn’t the same by yourself, I’m glad I had you to share in the revelry, particularly when watching Crabstickzs accents, Jon Benjamin has a Van, and Jeff and Peanut, to name a few.
• Being at least SORT OF willing to try and jam with me on the piano and flexibly accompanying me with both the melodica and ukulele.
• Being a Whovian as much as I am.
• Making me laugh with your accents, jokes, and all around good-natured behavior. Usually ;)
• Helping me in the kitchen, particularly the 6+ hours of baking that went on with that anniversary cake masterpiece that even the Greek Gods would have been impressed with.
• Chatting in my room about our mutual love for the Dragon Reborn and speculating on the result of the Last Battle when Rand Al’Thor will finally face down the Dark One when the seals break loose, with the Ashaman and Aes Sedai at his side. Crap I just got REALLY nerdy right then… Ignore that.

I could go on and on, because after 18 years we have a whole lot of fantastic memories. So happy birthday and I think you’re turning into a wonderful young man and I feel very blessed that God decided to stick us in the same family. It may be entirely too arrogant (and we all know you’re the one with the Tony Stark reputation not me) but I think we’re pretty cool ;)

Love you.

“Children of the same family, the same blood, with the same first associations and habits, have some means of enjoyment in their power, which no subsequent connections can supply... “

Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

Un Voyage

A collection of some of my favorite quotes, pertaining to one of my favorite activities:

"The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page." - St. Augustine

"Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey." - Pat Conroy

"A ship in port is safe, but that is not what ships are built for." - Grace Murray Hopper

" For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move." - Robert Louis Stevenson

“Travel does what good novelists also do to the life of everyday, placing it like a picture in a frame or a gem in its setting, so that the intrinsic qualities are made more clear. Travel does this with the very stuff that everyday life is made of, giving to it the sharp contour and meaning of art.” – Freya Stark 

To Friends

I’ve decided that today is a friend day. So I’d like to dedicate this post to the people who have curiously decided to make me a best friend and give me a secure knowledge of their everlasting involvement in my life. Being as I am, I can count the number of my close friends on one hand. Large gatherings and group settings have never been an ideal friend-making situation, as my brain mysteriously likes to shut down when more than 5 people have directed their attention on my being.  Okay, okay it’s more like 3 people. Anyway, even though my circle is small, our closeness is not. I’m not naming names here but you know who you are ;) So I would just like to say, thank you for investing in my life, for consciously choosing to turn a “me” into a “we”, for making me laugh, think, and giving me a glimpse of the savior’s love through the bonds of friendship and camaraderie. 

 John 15:12-15 “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.

To realize that the greatest friend we have is no less than God himself is a truly humbling gift. Our experiences with friends here on earth are one of the joys of life. And since no essay is complete without a C.S. Lewis quote:

“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.”

So friends, thanks for giving my survival value.

Every time I take a moment to reflect on something in life, I end up being amazed and exhilarated all over again at God’s grace, love, and presence. Friendship is just another avenue to know Christ, just as nature reveals His majesty, animals showcase His creativity, and science demonstrates His brilliance. He is everywhere and in everything, and I pray that we never lose sight of his hand in all aspects of life. 

Cities

Today’s musing involves the classic debate on which is better: cities or nature. Residing in the great Pacific Northwest typically seems to make one undeniable prefer the great outdoors to the bustling bright lights of a metropolis. Unfortunately, I seem to be the odd man out when it comes to this preference.  Of course I love nature, its God’s handiwork. As N.D. Wilson so beautifully articulates, creation is God’s art, the “stylized narrative revelation of an infinite personality.” You want proof that God exists? Look out the window. (This is especially true in my neighborhood, where the majestic Mt. Hood is a glance away and a simple twist of the head brings St. Helens into view).  While most groups of my peers seem to prefer hiking, rock-climbing, rafting, and other activities that involve close contact with earth, there’s something about a city that creates the greatest pull on my psyche. Cozy coffee shops and vintage bookstores, hole-in-the-wall restaurants that inexplicably offer some of the tastiest food you’ll ever find, long streets twinkling with lights in the evening dusk, and endless opportunities for people watching. It’s fascinating to examine what WE, who were created by an infinite personality, have in turn imagined and implemented. There is an endless stream of variety available in a city, and there seems to be a sort of controlled chaos in urban living that benefits from the expansive and specific offerings found within the confines of the city limits. New York is the perfect example of the magic that can be found in a city. It’s hard to explain what it specifically is that draws me in, but I have yet to experience a place as delightful as Manhattan. Both of my visits have forever cemented the city in my heart. Other places have their own unique and sometimes spectacular auras: Portland, Boston, Philadelphia, D.C, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Baltimore, San Diego, heck, even Jersey had a, um, distinctive personality, but nothings beats New York. I once read a book on the process of creating Central Park, designed by Frederick Law Olmsted if I remember correctly, and the forethought and ingenuity that went into incorporating nature into the concrete jungle is fascinating.  This wasn’t supposed to turn into a travel plug for NYC but I can’t help myself. Visit that city before you die. It’s not optional.

Central Park

Anyway, back to generalities of cities. I was fortunate enough to have a whole class dedicated to the history and composition of cities in college, with field trips to P-town included. City layouts, parks, architecture, resource acquisitions, neighborhood congregates, cuisine, transportation; it’s a vast network of infrastructure and interactions that inspire awe.  Of course there are two sides to every coin, and one will most certainly find heightened crime and homelessness in these urban gatherings, but still, I find it hard to find that level of human talent on display anywhere else.    

To wrap up this mind blurb, I’d just like to say that if anyone’s interested, I would love to take a hike. Up 23^rd Avenue that is. And climbing? If it’s up the stairs of the Portland Art Museum, I’m in.  And if you prefer water sports, there is always the fountain off of Naito Parkway adjacent to the river. Just say’n.  ;)

I wasn't kidding when I said I'm a fan...

Portland's up there too, for the record

The Bible as a Screenplay

Yesterday, as I was shamelessly trolling the internet due to an expansive bought of boredom, I came across this breaking news:  The Bible has been translated into a screenplay. Yep, it’s true.  Just as a few of the brilliant classics are getting a 50 Shades of Grey style overhaul (don’t even get me started on that one), apparently the Bible isn’t off limits to modern reinterpretations either. And not just any kind of reinterpretation. We’re not talking a new idea on how an ancient Hebrew text should be translated into modern English, no, we’re talking “poets, writers and musicians” all collaborating together to twist the Bible into some kind of accessible novel.  Frank Couch, vice president of translation development for Thomas Nelson, has worked with a whole team of experts in order to offer this new version of the Bible knows as “The Voice.”  Not only is there a modern screenplay format, but the new translation also “reformats the bible and inserts words and phrases into the text to clarify the action or smooth transitions.” So, what happened to reverence towards the living word of God? Since when did pure, unadulterated truth need to be reformatted in order for people to “fall in love with the story of the Bible?” I understand the desire to reach a bigger audience, to share the life-giving words of the Bible and find people not only interested but responsive as well. However, it is fully up to God to open man’s heart, and while He has put us here as a tool for him, no matter how “accessible” or “relatable” we try to make it, God will be the one to save.  They say this new format will help others understand the bible and be drawn into the story.  But the Bible isn’t just a story. It’s a divinely inspired work of ultimate truth that combines every genre you could ever need. It’s an account of history, a source of ultimate comfort, and an instruction book.  It’s the foundation to which we should build our lives from.  The Bible is God’s voice, and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t need the help of a few Hollywood screenwriters and poets to give it more impact than it already has.  

In addition to being flabbergasted at the amount of tampering being done with the Bible, I also couldn’t help but be reminded, and disappointed, with our culture’s interest in dumbed down versions of literacy. We’ve become more attracted to easily-read and unsubtle messages; why choose the thought-provoking and seemingly more difficult path when the answers can be blatantly fed to us? Why spend hours exercising your brain when instant-gratification-fluff is readily available? As a twenty-something, I’m just as into technology as anyone, but it’s an undeniable truth that kids are no longer being exposed to classic lit, or art, or philosophy, as a regular occurrence. Now, it’s who can get the highest Angry Birds score or kill the most zombies in the tiny, post apocalyptic land filling the screen mere inches from their noses. But I digress, and I’m sure I’m not the first one to lament the lapse in education and social interactions in today’s society. I guess seeing this new “translation” of the Bible just got me thinking, where exactly is our culture headed? Because I can’t see many benefits in offering people the notion that things needs to be easier to read. How about extending the idea there is value in putting forth effort? Especially when it comes to the Bible.  

Source: QC Times 

Waiting For Us At Home

"The beluga whale who saved a free-diver who had cramped up 20 feet below the surface."                                                            

"The staffordshire bull terrier who protected her owner from a machete gang."

I recently came across a list of 14 stories that “prove animals have souls.” While this is quite the claim to brazenly throw out into the world wide web, the supporting evidence included some anecdotes of animal behavior that are undeniable and eerily comparable to human conduct. Granted, some examples are just a bit too much of a stretch; just because cows stress levels seemingly rise when they are apart from their preferred heifer besties, doesn’t really prove that Dairy Queen and Mr. Beefy are off to heaven once their souls are sacrificed for the growing boys who rank a nice steak with fast cars and pretty women.

On the other hand, there is something simultaneously disconcerting and awe-inspiring in the now famous story of Christian the Lion that leaves one a greater sense of hidden depth contained in our seemingly lesser animal friends. For those unaware of the event, two brothers raised a lion cub in 1969, released him into the wild, and returned a year later only to be told the lion was now head of the pride and unlikely to remember them. Footage of the reunion temporarily breaks down all ideas of the boundary between wild animals and humans. Check it out:

A similar story is on the list of a previously human-raised gorilla who was released into the wild and became hostile to humans, only to gloriously embrace his old friend who had raised him for 5 years and courageously travel to West Africa in order to reunite. Kwibi and Damian shared a bond that defied normal expectations of how animals interact with people.

The stories abound; a nursing home cat that senses death, a Jack Russell Terrier that sacrificed himself for five children being attacked by wild dogs, a German Shepherd who unexpectedly became a seeing eye dog for a blind spaniel. Animals seem to continually surprise us with their seemingly human characteristics.

This article and accompanying pictures immediately got my mind spinning, wondering to what extent these are glimpses into how Adam and Eve must have communed with the variety of creatures in the Garden before the fall separated man from both God and Nature. How must it have felt to lounge with the lions? Did one of God’s lions embrace Adam in a powerful, encompassing hug (just as Christian the Lion did with John and Ace) as a regular occurrence? I imagine Eve just nonchalantly strolling with a Gorilla, with any sense of danger we would feel now being entirely nonexistent. I also think of the verse in Genesis: “And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds in the sky and all the creatures that move along the ground - I give every green plant for food. ” (Genesis 1:30). Gators weren’t attacking giraffes and the lion would rest with the lamb. Harmonious relationships abounded, between every animal to animal, beast to man, and most importantly between man and God himself.

I’m filled with a renewed sense of awe regarding the time before the fall. Of course the cardinal joy would have been to be with God and live as he fully intended, but also, the relationships with animals must have been incredible. And I for one cannot wait to see how God truly meant it to be, along with the multitude of other experiences we cannot have here on this earth but are waiting for us at home.

Source: http://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/stories-that-prove-animals-have-souls 

"I ask myself; is it worth it? And it just isn't."

“Some people are uncomfortable with silences. Not me. I’ve never cared much for call and response. Sometimes I will think of something to say and then I ask myself; is it worth it? And it just isn’t.” – Miranda July

Whenever a quote is read that immediately causes some sort of kinship between yourself and the writer, it’s as if, in the few seconds it takes to read a few lines of typed letters, a friend suddenly emerges. You mean there’s another human being on this earth who has the exact thoughts I do? Suddenly I don’t feel so alone or peculiar as I did before. Speaking of quotes, I’m reminded of a gem of simple truth by C.S Lewis: “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one.” I find it fascinating that the simplest voicing of matching sentiment, even by a complete stranger, can bring a smile to your face. It makes me wonder to what extent we need to relate and be understood by others. While listening to the Social Animal on CD on my way to work this morning, David Brooks highlighted a study about mirror neurons, where researchers have discovered a type of neuronal network that seemingly lends specifically to the process of imitating others. Particularly in babies, there is an unconscious desire to connect and match with someone who is closest to you. He also expressed the idea that the brain is just one piece of anatomy inside a skull, whereas the mind emerges from interaction and connection with others. Our minds aren’t just a complex interface of neurotransmitters, synaptic connections and RNA building codes. Just as the brain is influenced by its internal chemical reactions, our mind is impacted by our external connections. A seemingly simple discovery of connectedness with an individual can light up certain pathways in the brain, and if we specifically find fondness towards that person, our mirror neurons activate and we find ourselves unconsciously mimicking their movements and speech patterns. “No man is an island unto himself” seems truer than I previously thought…

Rewinding back to the original quote; I was immediately struck by the statement, “Sometimes I will think of something to say and then I ask myself; is it worth it? And it just isn’t.” While by no means a particularly profound and moving articulation, I nonetheless was a little surprised to hear a personal truth expressed by a faceless woman through a random and seemingly inconsequential tumblr reblog. It’s been a reoccurring aspect of my life, this idea of speaking up even when it seems unnecessary. Small talk? Yeah, not my strong suit. I find myself thinking of something in my head, evaluating the importance of the comment, and continually deciding it’s just not worth saying. Now, I realize this is probably not the wisest decision I could ever make. People connect by conversation, and language, no matter how trivial or insightful, is a way to fulfill our souls. God extols fellowship for a reason. So, as I'm reading someone else say the same thing I think every day, I realized the fallacy and benefits of that kind of thinking in perfect synchronicity. Trivial, vapid remarks are better left unsaid, but at the same time withholding all thoughts and feelings, even if simple comments, can make others uncomfortable and unsure. I suppose, just like every other aspect of life, balance is key. With an extreme bent towards introversion, balance is sometimes hard to find, but practice makes perfect…

I’ve been made aware over the years that multiple people have felt intimidated or disliked because of my silence. And I hate that that is the result of my overactive mental evaluations. Therefore, the point of today’s musing is this: just because I’m not speaking up and adding to the conversation doesn’t mean A) I’m an idiot, B) YOU’RE an idiot (although it’s possible. Kidding! Sort of.) or C) I'd give anything to be somewhere else. Rather, I evaluate my thoughts before their released, and sometimes, they just don’t pass the test. That, and observations and silence can be revealing. There really are perks to being a wallflower ;)