Good Friday

Baltimore Bound Birthday Blog (in flight!)

OK, so since I wrote what you'll read below, I've landed in Baltimore, eaten a delicious Thai dinner (yes, two nights in a row, thank you) complete with Singha,  enjoyed a homemade birthday cake, and thoroughly enjoyed time with one of my oldest friends. However, on the flight from Chicago to Baltimore, I wrote the following:

This is my first ever inflight blog. I’m somewhere between Chicago and Baltimore at the moment. Granted, this won’t be posted while in the air, as the wi-fi on this particular aircraft is broken, and I’m too cheap to pay for it anyway. None the less, it’s still rather exciting for me to be typing away at 37,000 feet. I’m easily amused.

Anyway, I think it’s going to be a good vacation. There have been a few little things that have occurred in my time leading up to this East Coast venture. I’m visiting my friend Skye, who’s been one of my closest friends since second grade. I timed my trip just right that our other good friend Cindy will also be on the East Coast visiting family. She’s been in New Jersey and New York for a few days, and will come meet us in Baltimore on Friday. Then the three of us will head down to DC for some touristy activities. Smithsonian’s particularly. We’ll cruise around DC on Saturday as well, and then Saturday evening is the event I’m perhaps most looking forward to. Here we find another little occurrence falling into place which makes me think this vacation will have me smiling. See, just before I booked my flight back in February, I was super excited to learn that John Mark McMillan was going to be playing in DC during my time there. Then, the day I bought my plane tickets, the show sold out. I tried not to be too bummed. Well, two weeks ago, as I was looking on his website to debate attending a different East Coast show, I noticed there were no longer large red capital letters spelling “SOLD OUT” across the DC line. I was perplexed, and slightly hopeful. I happen to “like” John Mark on facebook, so I posted on his wall, asking what the deal was. Was the show sold out or not? Honestly, I wasn’t expecting a response, but to my surprise, the next morning he’d commented on my post. They opened up a larger room at the venue and the show was no longer sold out. HOORAY!! So I promptly bought 3 tickets for Skye, Cindy, and I to avoid any further bummedness of a sold out show.  I eagerly look forward to belting out, along with the crowd, pretty much every single song lyric that night…save the new songs, I guess. He’s been working on a few I think.

Yesterday, I made it to safely to Minneapolis after working the night shift. Upon arrival,  I bought a new pair of TOMS thanks to my aunt and my grandpa (two of my most favorite people). My old TOMS have a hole in the toe as I wore them rather excessively. Exclusively even.  I bolted out of the Mall of America as it was far too beautiful outside to be burdened with roofs and stuffy recycled air and I made my way north to St. Paul where I happened to know of a lovely Finnish Bistro. While devoid of Karelian Pies (sadly, next to impossible to find in the US) I did enjoy some pulla (Finnish desert bread) and a cup of coffee while sitting outside, absorbing the warmth of the sun on my back. And consequently, my feet as my new shoes are black and thus sun soaker uppers. I ended the evening with a tasty brew and the spiciest Thai food I’ve ever eaten (including in Thailand) while watching a chick flick at my friend Cindy’s. Yes, that’s right, the same Cindy who is currently on the East Coast and will share the joys of it with me in two days’ time. Trusty folks, we mid-westerners are. J

I woke early this morning and enjoyed coffee and a blueberry scone just across from the bus stop. After a short bus ride and short light rail ride, I arrived at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport. I wanted to arrive with plenty of time to spare, as I’ve heard things are even more inconvenient these days than ever.  I should have slept in. Despite rumors of huge pains in the ass and heightened security measures, never in my life has it been easier or speedier getting through the airport. From the time I stepped off the light rail at the door of terminal two, I was checked in and through security in under 15 minutes. I walked right up to the check in counter without waiting for a single other passenger. Perhaps that gaping hole in the roof of last week’s Southwest flight deterred a lot of folks, though the flight I’m currently on is full. Yay for middle seats! Ugh. Anyway, it felt like some strange apocalyptic scene or alternate universe, the great empty airport. Nevertheless, I made it to Chicago sans holes in the roof or landing on the island of Jack Sheppard. I had a two hour layover in Chicago’s midway, so I treated myself to a lunch of overpriced pizza and Blue Moon given that I was on vacation and it was my birthday.

When I boarded my flight 1476, I made way to an empty seat toward the back. Walking through the aisle, I noticed a flight attendant with glittery purple crazy shaped glasses, purple feathered boa, and a shiny and pointed purple hat that said “Birthday Girl.” I smiled. It gave me an idea. Though the chances o were slim, I thought, hmm, maybe they’ll give me a free beer since it’s my birthday. HA! As “Birthday Girl” came around to take drink orders, I smirked and asked, “So, do I get a free beer since it’s my birthday too?” She gave a kind of sly grin and just asked, “What kind do you want?” The selection was small, but a free beer, a free anything on an airline, was too great to pass up, so I ordered a Heineken, which I’m sipping now as I hammer away at the keys. Oh, we’re descending already! Three cheers for Baltimore! Off with the electronics! I don’t want to single handedly crash this bird. J

DC Dreamin'

This is what happens on the tail end of an overnight shift, mere hours before departing for the first leg of vacation to the East Coast,Washington DC, included. The beginnings of a story from the over active imagination of a small town girl soon to be roamin' the big city. (I'm great at starting stories, shite at finishing them. I'm pretty sure I have what I've dubbed "Writer's ADD," or probably just ADD in general.) I'll just toss the Flash Fiction label on it and call it done?

"Yep. This seems about right."These were the last words to pass through Thomas' mind before he expired. A gunshot wound to the chest has a tendency to have that effect. Though he couldn't quite be sure, what with his dying and all, it appeared to him that the only car passing by just then was a shiny black sedan,the darkly tinted window scrolling up as it turned the corner.It was merely days before his 26th birthday and he found himself on the steps of the United States capitol; the building that plays host to the civil servants working roughly 58% of the year to make the country a brighter place. Generally a peaceful bystander of American politics, the direction his country was moving (he pictured a rope fraying in the middle as it was pulled harder and harder by either side, its fibers nearly ready to give way) made him both uneasy and motivated.He had been standing ther alone, in silent protest, peacefully holding aloft a simple sign he'd made from tag board and construction papered letters. Across a hand drawn picture of his imagined rope, taut at both ends, perilously frayed in the center, he'd pasted the words
POLARIZATION IS DESTROYING THE NATION
As he sat there isolated on the chilly steps, munching an apple with one hand, holding the sign with the other, the only accomplishment he was shooting for that day was for passersby and capitol entrants to digest the message so dear to his heart.Apparently, message received.

Glosoli

A reminder of loveliness on a Sunday morning.

Newton Hills Respite

Yesterday, I went to Newton Hills State Park, because it was sunny and warm and I needed to get outside. It was a day full of writing, photoing, praying, reading, day dreaming, and hiking. It was a much needed outdoor respite. These are a few of the pictures I took.

Then, as I was wandering, feeling refreshed and contemplating the much needed spring (both physical and metaphorical) I saw something nice. So I jotted down this poem about it and tried, rather failingly, to photograph it. Here are the results.

There had been a number of flowers

Hidden behind the trees

I'd caught a glimpse of only a few

Then I continued up the path

And was on my way down

The other side of the hill

When I saw the last bit of snow

In the distance

A thousand tiny white flowers

In bloom before my eyes.

Winter scarcely remains.

Short Story One- The Runner

I wrote a story several years ago, not for a writing class, but a theology class. Now, as I'm working on compiling and sorting out my writing, I revisited the story. In this re-visitation, it became quite clear to me that it was not complete.
This could simply be because as I've aged and have continued to developed my writing, I am able to see ways in which my writing can and should be strengthened. It also could be because, last year round this time, I wrote something that in the back of my mind, served as a sort of sequel to the afore mentioned piece. And as it turned out, there was more to the story. (There often is, isn't there?)

I had set up a separate page here in which I planned to post some of my short stories. However, upon further review, it seems that I can't make multiple posts on the other pages. At least, I haven't found a way which allows me being completely un-tech savvy to do so. So, I've started posting them on writerscafe.org. If I post one there, I'll make a link here.

I posted the first part of the story as I was revisiting it. Since it once was a stand alone piece, I'll post it. I'll post the second part soon.

Here it is. The Runner

For Further Reading

As a follow up to my last post, I just wanted to toss out some links for further reading.

While not writing about Rob Bell or Love Wins, the latest post on Craig Blomberg's blog, through Denver Seminary, offers insight to a belief in Hell. Blomberg is one of the leading New Testament scholars in the nation. He's also just pretty rad.

The second is a blog written my friend Dianna, who studied theology with me at USF. Dianna generally has a way of articulating the very thoughts jumbled around in my head in a much more patient, elegant way. Check it out.

Also, here's Rob Bell's introduction to his book. It's essentially him quoting a portion of the first chapter.

A Love Decieved?

There's been a lot of talk recently about Rob Bell, his new book Love Wins, and the Christian doctrines of the afterlife. But,this isn't a book review. In fact, I haven't even read the book. Yet.
(I came up with this silly little idea of reading all of the Harry Potter books and seeing the movies before the last one comes out in June. I'm a few years behind schedule in my Rowling reading, so that has taken up the bulk of my word-on-page time. Plus, as it turns out, I really like them. Also, I just received two books in the mail written by friends of mine, so they should probably be next on the list.)

My point, in writing this, will be brief. While I haven't yet read Bell's book, I'm highly curious, as it is regarding something that's been twiddling around in my mind for quite some time now. Thus, cruising around amazon.com, I stumbled across some reviews and message boards regarding Bell and his book, and one man's statement stuck out to me. He said:

It is just like Satan to deceptively sneak in, seemingly stating 'Love', but in reality, sending people straight to hell.

And I wondered to myself:

Can we really be deceived by Love?
or, perhaps better stated,
Can Love truly be used to deceive?

Happy Spring!

Well, it feels like no small miracle, but, we made it!!! Winter is officially over and gone, and to it I scream, "Good riddance!"
As I've been looking back and thinking about things I've written over the last few months, it seems so much of it has been in response to the weather, particularly the loathing of it. Winter is a hard hard time, it's true. There is a reason Shakespeare wrote that it was "winter of our discontent." But I must admit, it was only recently, this week, in fact, that I've come to understand the reason for so much emphasis on the cruelty and harshness of winter for me.

At one point in time, I don't remember if it was here on my blog or on facebook, but I mentioned loving fall despite it forewarning the "cold cold hell of winter." It is now that I understand the true nature of that metaphor. Hell-The place where one is completely separate from the presence of God.
With the exception perhaps of music, the place where I feel the most connected and closest to God is in nature. I need to be doing nothing but perhaps simply sitting outside, and I am content. Winter in South Dakota certainly does not allow this. For months on end, I am not allowed (nor is it wise) to simply sit outside and enjoy the beauty, power, and divinity of Creation. For months on end, it seems, the presence (which is deemed by many to be "life-giving") is stripped away from me and I am left where there is weeping and chattering of teeth.

But, somehow, the miracle has happened. The water has been changed into wine. Signs of redemption reach out and pull me from that vast darkness that is winter. I am able to move from the depths of sheol to the parkbench in the sun, which is steadily regaining his strength and providing me with much needed warmth. Once again, I am able to wander out of doors in the presence of the creator. Once again, I can live and breath and have my being. Once again, I see the beginnings of life.

Ash Wednesday-Phoenix Foreshadowed?

Ash Wednesday
(Never mind the fact that it’s now officially Thursday)

My current facebook status is this: As you bear your ashes, remember, it is kindness that leads to repentance.

An often overlooked bit of scripture I think, what with the threat of eternal damnation doing a fine job ushering folks into repentance these days. But, alas, that thought is better left for another time.
This evening, I wore ashes on my forehead for a period of time. As they were drawn as a cross by the pastor, he uttered, “Remember, from dust you came. To dust you shall return.” All we are is dust in ….no wait. It was only the first two lines. I’m confusing them with something else. I’m getting distracted. (Easily done when you’re keeping Vampire/Zombifying hours) Back to the ashes!
So, with ashes firmly imposed on the fore of my head, this great, wretched, tortoise race of a period called Lent has arrived. Though, I suppose it would have arrived with ashes not being imposed on my head just as well. Worn as a sign of repentance, I made a mental list of all my trangressions…no, most likely not even close to all. I made a list of prominent transgressions of which it is suggested I repent. I’ll share a few here:
I am angry. I am prideful. Self-centered and selfish. Mistrusting and greedy! And perhaps the winner, I am rather unforgiving.
Today, as each day in the life of a follower of Christ, I was called to repent. But, really, when I stopped to think about it…is it really my intention to truly “repent” of these things? Repent means to turn away from…essentially, turn my back on and walk away from. And I’m completely honest when I say, it really seems I have no intention of doing that, at least regarding a few of the things mentioned and unmentioned. For a certain number of them, I seem content to just let them linger in dark cloud around me, whilst I maintain my wallowing nature. But still, I wore the ashes. Perhaps in a desperate attempt to plead for grace, while my feeble and weakened self wanes and collapses at the very foot of the cross. I wore them in silent contemplation. I wore them in tears. Tears offered up shakily to my savior to say “The burden is too great. I am at a loss.” In that moment, to ashes I return.
Yet there is a greater promise in those ashes. For while to dust I will infact (and often do) return, in those ashes is found the remembrance of grace and a promise that despite the soot, one day those ashes will rise, soaring into the glory of the resurrection.

Happy Lenting, All