Stress

It does crazy things to you. Nothing sounds more satisfying than to recede into one's own skin and hide from the world. However, at the same time there is no place that feels more constricting and frustrating than one's own skin. Yeah, it's a punkish paradox, but you can only learn to deal. And pray that you don't hurt anyone else in the process.

There's is also this constant tension between what is desired and what is reasonable in life. That in and of itself is a headache apart from any other outside influences.

Denny's helped. So did Josh's jokes and help with my script writing. Sara sang snipits of "Business Time" and Karissa harmonized . . . sheer goodness.

Ok it's time to write. Woe is me dang it.

A simple Something

When God is knocking at your door, open it. If you're lucky he'll break it down for you if you're too lazy to answer it. It's always the crazy times. Pre-finals, sounds like an excellent time. I might be blessed with the chance to minister in a position I have only dreamed about since Freshman year. Giddy? yes.
Nervous? incredibly.
Humbled? To the floor.
Letting go of being an RA is becoming more and more difficult than I thought it would be but my girls, ready or not, need to start making strides of their own. I can't wait to see what they do.
Oh Lord, please, please, PLEASE keep me in check. This is all you. and if it's me . . . kick it!

Blood Diamond

Another film, a continuing conviction.

Learning breeds awareness; awareness demands response.

Those are my own words. As they say in the film "It's a little hard to go back to sipping lattes and talking about interest rates."

Just one of those days.

Today I went to Mass. The article I'm reading, and preparing a thesis on, for Theology had me thinking about rituals and how they shape Christian life. For some reason I've been in an overtly gutsy mood the past 28 hours (yes, I counted) and decided to reach back to my early Christian roots and attend Mass.

It was beautiful.

Palm Sunday. Reverence. Song. Prayer. Organized and Communal.

There were no paxil plagued praises. I was not pressed to emote as a form of worship. As a woman plagued with estrogen I display unwarranted emotion at an already uncomfortable rate. This is not a criticism of Evangelical worship, but a thought about what it means to really praise God on a day to day basis. Worship is more than just a song that makes us "feel something." Worship is a daily task of pursuing Him above happiness and our own desires.

Though the entire event was not "emotionally charged" I felt more convicted and in awe of my savior than I had in a long time. In this instance it was the stripping of flash and emotion that allowed me to trust the depth of response I felt.

I received communion and it meant more to me than it has in a very long time. I might have made a spiritual faux pas but I don't think they can excommunicate me for being gone for seven years and forgetting the Apostles Creed.

I may be an Evangelically reformed Catholic, but together we may all be part of the blessed catholic church. Together.

I also went on an adventure and rode my bike to a nearby starbucks. I even bought a cheap plastic basket for the front of my mountain bike. Awkward, useful, and colorful . . . yep, that's me in a nutshell.